This is one of the reasons I came to hate Houston- that feeling of rush, rush, rush. Everyone has to be somewhere 30 minutes ago. The sound of the freeways are ever-present and the sound of cars zipping by at 60MPH (if it's not rush hour) doesn't support relaxation and quiet conversation. Most big cities are the same, but Houston takes it to new heights (or depths, depending).
I stopped drinking brewed coffee in the US, because it's uniformly shit. At home I drink tea, and when I'm out and about I'll have an oat milk latte. That gets my blood-caffeine level to a manageable point, and I'm not drinking something that tastes like my last relationship prior to meeting Erin.
One of the things I miss about living in the Middle East is Turkish coffee. It differs from country to country, but it's uniformly called "Turkish" coffee. I rarely have it anymore, because it's hard to find outside of Middle Eastern restaurants, but it does bring back a lot of memories.
In the 17th and 18th C. England -- during the days of Locke, of Newton, of Pope, of Hume (though he was admittedly Scottish) -- coffee houses were known as "penny universities" for the intensity of learned conversation that occurred in them. Actually (1) having some place to go that I could (2) afford to go to would be a great pleasure. But Johnston City doesn't even have sidewalks, never mind sidewalk cafes.
The time I went through Paris (vacay while working for an "Uncle") (maybe I should say "times," since I passed through twice, and lingered once) I loved the opportunity to just sit and order a cafe, and be happy with whatever arrived. One of those times I was with some folks I'd met traveling. It was quite late, and (I'm told) there was a kind of "courtesy" the French would do for students where they'd serve them espresso in a full sized coffee cup. I was 24+ hours vibrating like a "magic fingers" on speed balls. And back in those days I could gulp down a cup of coffee before going to bed and sleep like a baby. (A few years later my body chemistry shifted in some fundamental way, and as a result I've struggled with insomnia for the past 4 decades.)
Love this post! The first time I went to France, I was reminded of my family’s love of coffee & lingering with friends. I was raised on good strong Louisiana coffee, which might be a close second to coffee in Europe. Although my parents rarely went out, friends were always around Mama’s table wanting just one more cup from her French drip pot. Now my parents are gone, but I’m thankful they instilled that tradition in us.
Stacey, I absolutely adore this post of yours! Everything you have written about European coffee culture and sitting in cafés versus the American way rings true and clear. This is yet another reason why I love living in Italy and traveling all over Europe. As I write this I’m currently in Spain and will be here and in Portugal for the next 3 1/2 weeks before returning to my home in Napoli. We are, indeed, “community fish” as you write. Sitting in a café and communing with others is, in my view, a beautiful pleasure and I feel so fortunate to not only recognize this but to be able to live this way. Once again, if you come to Napoli I would love to go for a coffee with you at the glorious Caffè Gambrinus.🤗
This is one of the reasons I came to hate Houston- that feeling of rush, rush, rush. Everyone has to be somewhere 30 minutes ago. The sound of the freeways are ever-present and the sound of cars zipping by at 60MPH (if it's not rush hour) doesn't support relaxation and quiet conversation. Most big cities are the same, but Houston takes it to new heights (or depths, depending).
I stopped drinking brewed coffee in the US, because it's uniformly shit. At home I drink tea, and when I'm out and about I'll have an oat milk latte. That gets my blood-caffeine level to a manageable point, and I'm not drinking something that tastes like my last relationship prior to meeting Erin.
One of the things I miss about living in the Middle East is Turkish coffee. It differs from country to country, but it's uniformly called "Turkish" coffee. I rarely have it anymore, because it's hard to find outside of Middle Eastern restaurants, but it does bring back a lot of memories.
In the 17th and 18th C. England -- during the days of Locke, of Newton, of Pope, of Hume (though he was admittedly Scottish) -- coffee houses were known as "penny universities" for the intensity of learned conversation that occurred in them. Actually (1) having some place to go that I could (2) afford to go to would be a great pleasure. But Johnston City doesn't even have sidewalks, never mind sidewalk cafes.
The time I went through Paris (vacay while working for an "Uncle") (maybe I should say "times," since I passed through twice, and lingered once) I loved the opportunity to just sit and order a cafe, and be happy with whatever arrived. One of those times I was with some folks I'd met traveling. It was quite late, and (I'm told) there was a kind of "courtesy" the French would do for students where they'd serve them espresso in a full sized coffee cup. I was 24+ hours vibrating like a "magic fingers" on speed balls. And back in those days I could gulp down a cup of coffee before going to bed and sleep like a baby. (A few years later my body chemistry shifted in some fundamental way, and as a result I've struggled with insomnia for the past 4 decades.)
I'm waxing nostalgic about my time in Italy. Remembering not only the lovely coffee but the wine and food. Thanks for wonderful story.
Love this post! The first time I went to France, I was reminded of my family’s love of coffee & lingering with friends. I was raised on good strong Louisiana coffee, which might be a close second to coffee in Europe. Although my parents rarely went out, friends were always around Mama’s table wanting just one more cup from her French drip pot. Now my parents are gone, but I’m thankful they instilled that tradition in us.
Oh, I remember my cappuccinos in Italy...
Stacey, I absolutely adore this post of yours! Everything you have written about European coffee culture and sitting in cafés versus the American way rings true and clear. This is yet another reason why I love living in Italy and traveling all over Europe. As I write this I’m currently in Spain and will be here and in Portugal for the next 3 1/2 weeks before returning to my home in Napoli. We are, indeed, “community fish” as you write. Sitting in a café and communing with others is, in my view, a beautiful pleasure and I feel so fortunate to not only recognize this but to be able to live this way. Once again, if you come to Napoli I would love to go for a coffee with you at the glorious Caffè Gambrinus.🤗