My love for coffee runs so far back in to my childhood, that I believe it could be a basic blueprint of my DNA. I believe I can accomplish all things through Christ who gives me strength… and coffee. Although my therapist has me drinking less in order to lessen symptoms of anxiety, not a day is truly complete without at least one cup of piping hot coffee. I remember like it was yesterday– sneaking sips out of my dad’s light blue mug full of strong coffee with just a smidgen of cream. Dad would be working in his garage, he would leave his cup of jo sitting on the wooden bench directly outside of the garage, and like clock work my sneaky little self would run over and get my coffee fix. Once my dad finally caught on, he promised when I was old enough he would give me my own. Until then, I would be sly like a fox and as cool as a cucumber in efforts to maintain my coffee hustle. Eventually I got smart and offered to make his coffee. Tisk tisk, Delanie Michelle.
As I grew older, I sort of took after that old Don William’s song ‘Some Broken Hearts Never Mend’– “Coffee black, cigarettes, I start this day like all the rest.” Minus the cigarettes part (for the most part… What can I say? I was a curious teen). Naturally, I became a barista as a side job to being an emergency dispatcher at LifeAlert. And yes, that is the “I have fallen and I can’t get up!” commercial you see on late-night TV. I would frequent the best ‘The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf‘ (which poops on Starbucks and Pete’s, btw #sorrynotsorry) there ever was on the corner of Woodley and Ventura so much and so often that the store manager would jokingly tell me “You might as well work here!” A week or two later, I did. Dispatching became too heavy for this heart of mine and barista-ing was my outlet. To this day there is nothing quite like the precious sifting sound of steaming milk in to a luscious froth or pulling a freshly ground espresso shot, tamping it, and watching that beautiful layer of crema form. Thank goodness that in my adult life today as a dinner manager at my current place of employment, I have the ever-so therapeutic luxury of making my own coffee beverages at our cute little espresso bar.
At home, I have been fortunate enough that my boyfriend’s uncle owns and runs his family’s coffee plant est. 1894, Hansen Good Coffee aka the real reason I am with Thomas. Just kidding, babe, if you are reading this. Side note, Thomas actually is the sweetest because he has made me coffee and breakfast every morning since we have lived together. Thus, he is having a hard time adjusting to my new NutriBullet routine.
I have toyed with several methods to create my café au lait with perfect foam. I am sucker for good foam. Eventually I got sick of cleaning my French Press twice in one sitting- once for brewing coffee and second for a make-shift frother, and bought kuissential’s battery-operated electric handheld milk frother. I went for this one because let’s face it- I am a struggling college student with a taste for fancy things, so quite frankly I am ballin’ on a budget. I do not have the funds to buy the real deal espresso machine and goodies, etc… Fourteen doll hairs on AmazonPrime and a couple of days later, this little gem was on my doormat and I have been a happy camper ever since. I saw one, but a different brand for $8 at Target a few days after I got mine, of course, and felt a little cheated by the man, but I just told myself that mine was $14 so it must be fancier. We call that fallacial thinking, but whatever floats my boat, right?
Attached below is a link to a 45 second or so home-video of using my frother. In the video, do not mind Thomas singing “Oaktown” in the background at the end, we have been really happy our Raiders are doing great this year. Also don’t mind my lack of taking my own advice which is that I would highly suggest submerging the device in to the milk and then turning it on, and turning it off before taking it out of your milk. Trust me on this one, I know from experience. Milk is not fun to clean off of your eye glasses and kitchen appliances. I believe that messy experience was some sort of ode to a late family friend near and dear to my heart, also a fellow coffee lover, whom I shared a similar messy moment with in his kitchen. I will forever remember his insane coffee order- extra extra hot ristretto white chocolate mocha. He said he liked his coffee like his wife Debbie- white, extra hot, and sweet. Rest In Peace, Darryl and Debra. I loved you two from the bottom of my soul. As for the rest of my fellow coffee lovers, may your coffees be like your lovers, too. HA-HA!