my dad tells me i’ve been drinking it since i was small,
sneaking sips from cups left unattended on the breakfast table.
(but then again, my mom did find little sasa sitting on the coffee table cross-legged, drinking the ‘pickle juice’ from a jar that was long empty of the pickles before my
saturday morning cartoons were even on the air…i started on the good stuff early in life.)
the affair continued–through girl talk sessions, college class crammers, and countless cross-country voyages, though that gas-station sludge could hardly be considered my beloved beverage. the culmination of my highly-caffeinated journey was when i found myself face-to-bean with the red, ripe berries, harvesting coffee on maui, through the WWOOF organization.
now days, i sip–ok, guzzle–my lifeblood in ann arbor, but that’s not to say i can’t get a taste of the tropics here in the landlocked, temperate climate of michigan. ’cause sometimes there’s a man…enter: john roos.
last sunday, i went to coffee camp.
it was informative and hilarious.
my fellow “campers” were interesting.
the quiche was delicious.
the coffee was spectacular.
i got a lot done that afternoon.
by all means, go. guzzle. giggle.