I always knew what I had.

Coffee, Ahhh, from that first palate burning sip. The perfect drink. Black gold. Brings you up, yet calms you down.

Like a good Colombian family, our day began with a silver pot percolating. In fact, I received my own first percolator at age three; my Spanish grandmother would fill it with the real bean, and my brother and I would sit and slurp up the steaming sweet smoothness. We would masterfully stir in the cream until it was the perfect caramel brown. We just knew how much cream to add, it’s part of the Andean DNA we came with.

Since age three, I have known of the power of caffeine. I have forever understood the coffee jokes, I got them – I’d even poke fun at my own left twitching eye. [Read more...]