As opposed to cats, coffee took quite a long time to grow on me. When
everyone was downing cup after cup during exam sessions, I would put on a
refrained smile and keep on reaching for my can of Coke. Mind you, I still love
Coke, and it’s one of those things, like Coldplay, that I plan to be forever
unapologetic about. Yes, it’s an explosion of sugar and artificial flavour
enhancers (just like Coldplay, come to think of it), but even the distant fizz
of a can being opened puts me in a state- I know, it’s called addiction, but
everyone needs the poison of their choice.
So back to coffee, I did have a nice big cuppa one night before my American
history exam, and then at 4 am, when I could recite all the amendments of the
constitution pretty much by heart but was still staring at my bedroom ceiling
with my limbs shaking I said no more of this lethal brown liquid, and to this
principle I stayed true for almost a decade.
Then, about three years ago, one fine morning in January I said, well, it’s
kind of cold and I’m sort of sleepy, maybe I could have a latte. So I did. A
big latte filled with honey and agave syrup- more precisely, what today I call
a crime against both humanity and common sense, surpassed only by the green
monstrosity of matcha latte. Next day I said, well why not have that latte
again. A hundred or so days later I gave up on the honey, and then the agave
syrup departed from my life as well.
Soon enough, I discovered that I was craving morning caffeine to degrees
which could not be properly serviced by a latte. So I switched to flat whites.
And then, on another epic day, in Italy, as luck would have it, I discovered
that I could simply have a pitch dark espresso.
And ever since, I have measured
my life with coffee cups. Or with distances from one coffee shop to another- of which there are plentiful in Budapest, because we are painfully cool, I know. And still, I have missed a few, so I might as well add visiting them to those new year's resolutions I never manage to keep and see if for once I succeed.
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'New wave' Turkish coffee in Kelet- minus the dregs, which is a bit disturbing |
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The real deal, dregs and all, in 2Cafe Karaköy |
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Espresso with a prickly friend, Addicted2Caffeine |
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That time I read about owls in My Little Melbourne |
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Summer delights in the Massolit garden |
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An Italian novel demands a small but viciously strong espresso |
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How my morning walk invariably ends up looking come spring |
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Lavender days in Budapest Baristas |
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The My Little Melbourne pit stop with a bit of reading thrown in |
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The inevitable accident of spilling the coffee while shuffling it around for a better shot |
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As I was saying, Italian novels and espressos |
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A Massolit espresso in all its lonely beauty |
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Spring with latte in Sarki Fűszeres |
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And for a change, spring with latte in Espresso Embassy |
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When in Vienna, have some coffee (I might have tried reading in German as well, I guess) |
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When the table matches your accidental bookmark in Café Demel |
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Geometry in Espresso Embassy |
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And here's my espresso with one of those lovely surprise finds in my home library |
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I am a pretzel fiend and proud of it |
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The almost nearly perfect espresso- and my favourite coffee shop logo at Budapest Baristas |
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So I went a bit over the top in Café Torino, but I just had to indulge in a bicerin, and cute little cookies |
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To more serious stuff, that killer Italian espresso in Café Florio |
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Channeling France in Gerlóczy |
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Autumn rains arrive at My Little Melbourne |
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And then autumn moved on |
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But here's to finishing in a very summer mood, with a Velence lake espresso |
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