Press it

My newest simple pleasure is the discovery of the enjoyment of the ritual of making a cup of coffee with a French Press. I'm generally speaking, not a coffee drinker. I've always gotten my caffeine needs fulfilled via the courtesy of Mt. Dew. This isn't about waking up, but rather the leisurely enjoyment of something. I'd guess most of us are in a rush in the mornings. Hurry. Hurry. We go to and fro, rushing through the house. Bathe, brush our fangs, primp the hair (or whatever your daily routine might entail).

The act of putting on a teapot to stoke on the stove. Waiting for the rising pitch squeal signaling the water is hot enough to pour over the fresh smelling coffee grounds. The low gurgle in the french press as you pour the water over the small mound of russet grounds waiting their hot soak. The light froth on the top as you give the mixture a light swirl to ensure proper blending.

Set a timer for 4 minutes. Prepare the coffee cup with a small bit of natural sugar and perhaps some mocha if that's the course for the day. Prepare a bagel with cream cheese (or is that the other way around?) add a few capers for a different twist. Beep Beep. The timer signals stridently. Beep Beep. Ah, the Press. Once the grounds are deep in recesses of the bottom of the press we are ready to pour the morning salvation.

Add cream, a light stirring to blend the sugar and the habitual blowing on the steaming brew to lightly cool that first sip. Taste buds peaking in anticipation of flavor as the coffee moves over the palate. Even, smooth, rich and delightful. Have a cup on me.