An ode to coffee
The perfect liquid companion.
Ahhh, coffee.
That sweet, robust aroma that tickles your nostrils in the morning. It teases you from drowsy blankets and beckons you to a sun-dappled table. The roar of the grinder jerks the mind from unconsciousness, yes, but it is in many ways gentler than, perchance, icy water against one’s skin. The kettle’s song grows from a low rumble into an excited gurgle — and then, the glorious click. Now it’s just stillness, silence, and the birds warbling outside as you slowly pour water over your grounds. Before long, a steaming cup is cradled in your hands as you sit down, breathe in, and crack open your laptop for the day.
The first sip
I got into coffee near the end of high school. In Grade 12, my aunt and uncle invited my parents and I to their timeshare property for spring break. My family usually tries to get the most bang for our buck when it comes to vacations — think six a.m. morning calls and days stuffed with itinerary — but this time, we decided to take it slow. So we relaxed our asses off and did. Absolutely. Nothing.
I loved that vacation. I spent mornings in the balcony on a lawn chair next to a plate of nachos, reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and nursing cup after cup of coffee. I fell in love with coffee’s effects, how it gently sharpens focus. I could parse literature and relax at the same time.
Over the years, I’ve learned to adjust my coffee intake to my body and my taste. I drink my coffee slowly, at certain points of the day, to reduce the likelihood of overdoing it and getting jittery. Like many young people, I once added unholy amounts of cream and sugar to my coffee. Now, I just add a splash of cream to neutralize bitterness and improve texture. And I get awfully excited when I encounter high-end coffee with a complex taste profile, which must be drunk black.
Coffee culture
Coffee — despite being ubiquitous — is not universal. And even among Western countries where coffee is common knowledge, the drink can vary widely from culture to culture.
I won’t forget how when I studied abroad in the U.K., no one knew what “brewed coffee” meant. The British only seemed to drink espresso. When I asked for plain, brewed, non-espresso coffee, they would say, “You mean an Americano?” Fair guess, considering my accent. “No,” I would say. “I want, like, a plain coffee.” “So an Americano.”
My city, Vancouver, is a coffee town. We have a few beloved local chains in addition to a humble — albeit indoor because of the rain — coffee culture. I love going to coffee shops and sitting for a few hours with my writing. This is one of the things I miss most about pre-lockdown: the ability to write in a public café surrounded by fellow coffee lovers.
Being a city of immigrants, Vancouver is also blessed with a global variety of cuisine. I’ve sampled Greek coffee here, as well as Vietnamese coffee. Vietnamese coffee — once you muster enough patience to watch it drip to fruition — is absolutely delicious. It’s also my way of getting my coffee and Asian food fix at the same time.
A writer’s drug of choice?
Coffee is often associated with writers. Of course, caffeine helps us focus and be productive, but I think it’s more than that. Coffee isn’t just coffee, it’s context.
When I sit down with my first cup of coffee in the day, I feel ready. I’m excited to start working. I usually spend a half hour or so reading news articles — about the time it takes for me to finish a cup of coffee — so by the time I’m done my news segment, the caffeine has kicked in and I’m ready to work.
Coffee also has a long history of being associated with intellectual work. Before the Enlightenment, beer was popular because water was often too dirty to drink. Then, coffee became trendy and people began to perk up. Thinkers began to congregate in cafés and exchanged ideas. Thus, the Enlightenment was born.
Living in Canada, I have the privilege to legally enjoy two other drugs often associated with creativity — cannabis and alcohol. However, neither have really clicked with my writing practice. Alcohol just makes me groggy; I can see my IQ points slowly disappear with each drink. I quite enjoy cannabis, but while it does stimulate creative ideas, I’m often too unfocused to actually follow through on those ideas. A cannabis “trip” down creativity lane must always be followed by a caffeinated morning, at least for me.
The ethics of an addiction
All this reads quite pretentious, is it? I don’t deny it.
Coffee isn’t innocuous. Caffeine withdrawal is real, and coffee as an agricultural product is steeped in controversy.
When I go camping and I forget to bring some instant coffee, I panic. When I go abroad and I can’t find coffee, I panic. This is because if I don’t drink coffee by around noon, I start to get headaches. The headaches aren’t serious — an Advil and a big glass of water usually does the trick — but they’re annoying. Headaches also remind me that I am, technically, a drug addict. This can be an uncomfortable realization for some people.
Coffee itself is also ethically ambiguous at the best of times. You can get Fair Trade coffee, but Fair Trade is not without its problems. Because coffee is best grown in the tropical/subtropical bean belt, coffee cultivation happens in poorer countries. Workers are paid bare minimum wages, all to satisfy richer countries’ insatiable thirst for good, cheap coffee.
To be an ethical coffee drinker…
So how does one balance their love of coffee with being an ethical human? To be honest, I’m still working on that. I suggest thoroughly researching your brands and making coffee at home when you can, to cut down on waste. I also recommend looking into the stuff you put in your coffee, like dairy products and soy products. How ethical are these things?
Finally — and I hate to say this — consider cutting down on coffee.
Too much of a good thing can be bad for you. Make sure you stay within established health guidelines of how much caffeine you’re consuming. I also like to space my coffees out with teas, like matcha.
I’d also recommend folks educate themselves in the history of coffee and the people in history who have made this amazing drink possible. Notice how my piece mainly concerns Western consumption culture of coffee. This is indicative of my colonial bias.
So let’s decolonize coffee — to the best of our ability — and respect its origins. After all, coffee is a beautiful drink, a beautiful gift to humanity as a whole. Let’s be grateful as we enjoy it.
