Missing your favorite coffee at Starbuck's?
At Meilori's, Sam serves the best coffee -- black as night, sweet as sin.
Thomas Jefferson called coffee the favorite drink of the civilized world.
But McCord's coffee is the favorite drink of the supernatural world ...
except for those who sip O- blood.
A
double dose of dark roast taken from the fields of pre-Aztec Columbia
. For each cup, two heaping tablespoons, smelling like midnight should
smell.
A dash of the original chicory root from the moist soil of Ancient Egypt for bite and body.
Two
more heaping tablespoons for the rune-carved pot, old when Eve was
young.
A phoenix egg cracked over the pot. The yolk cupped out and
white and shells thrown into the pot, filled with the distilled tears of
laughter.
Sam says he knows nothing that polishes coffee and makes it shine like that.
Only
when the moon hides her face in winter is this coffee made over coals
still burning from the first lightning strike in Eden.
The
air to such an evening is very cold, so that the brew, rising from
coldness to a rolling boil, breathes into the darkness such a heady
aroma that you almost taste the smell caressing your nostrils.
Your mouth waters. Your tongue grows dry.
And a hungry yearning to taste such a coffee fills you and never quite leaves.
The
first sip of that coffee will haunt you every morning afterwards when
you rise to the ditch water that criminally calls itself coffee.
I can walk through my hall-end mirror into Meilori's. I wish you could join me.
Sorry, not a yearning I have ever developed.
ReplyDeleteMe, either. I prefer hot tea. :-)
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