Skip to main content

Morning Coffee

In this episode, Morning Coffee . . .

Now, I’m not saying everyone needs coffee. Some folks get by just fine on, I don’t know, sunlight and positive thinking. Me? I’m pretty sure I started drinking the stuff sometime around the Reagan administration.

Reading John Gierach’s "Ode to Campfire Coffee" in Trout Bum (a book that should be required reading for anyone who sees sleeping on the ground as recreation) got me thinking about how we’ve managed to complicate something as fundamentally simple as boiling water and adding grounds.

Taste, you say? Look, black coffee is an acquired taste, like tequila or cilantro. I just don’t get it. Gierach, bless his heart, mostly drinks his java streamside, probably while wearing wool socks and waders and contemplating the mysteries of the universe. As for me? My outdoor coffee experience is a bit different.

Picture this: the High Sierra, where campfires are banned (to avoid agitating Smoky Bear), and I’m huddled over a Whisperlite, coaxing ice-cold lake water to boil in a titanium pot. And here’s the kicker—the part where the coffee snobs gasp and clutch their French presses: Instant. Yes, I said it. Instant coffee. Lightweight, packable, and vaguely reminiscent of real coffee. I complement this culinary masterpiece with pilfered powdered milk from my hiking buddy and a sugar packet (one for each morning because I’m a planner). It’s a far cry from a streamside brew, but it gets the job done.

Back in civilization, my coffee routine is a study in efficiency. 4:30 a.m., the witching hour, finds me brewing a pot for the long-suffering Mrs. For her, coffee is a necessity, a jumpstart to consciousness. For me, it’s more a digestive. Plus, there’s something civilized about sitting in my easy chair, warming my hands on the mug, and reading a book while the outside world is dark. My process is beautifully simple: electric coffee maker, five teaspoons of Trader Joe’s blend (nothing fancy, I’m not a coffee snob . . . mostly), five and a half cups of water, push the “brew” button. Done!

But then–Tucson happened. We took a vacation, and Robert decided it would be a good idea to teach me how to use his espresso machine. A real espresso machine. Suddenly, my simple five-teaspoon operation seemed . . . quaint. There was preheating involved, and grinding beans (with a burr grinder, no less), and tamping, and locking, and extracting. It was like launching a rocket! The lattes were delicious; I have to give him that. However, the entire process felt . . . excessive. I watched my barista’s demonstration, nodded politely, and quietly stepped back, worried I might break something.

So, yeah, Gierach’s essay got me thinking. About the lengths we go to for a caffeine fix. About the difference between necessity and ritual. And about how, sometimes, the simplest way is the best way.

Now–if you’ll excuse me, I hear my coffee maker calling. It's a simple call, the call of the "Brew" button. And I intend to answer.

I’m Patrick Ball, reminding you to stay curious and ask questions. See you in the next episode.

Bonus–my favorite funny morning coffee story.

Labels:

Comments

Patrick B. Ball said…
Thanks for the link to the Sinatra song, I've never heard that one before.
February 21, 2025 at 9:42 AM
Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

Truth for Sale

This episode is inspired  by Elton John & Bernie Taupin On Memorial Day, I took my first bike ride  since the accident , seeking proof that my legs, lungs, and nerves still remembered the road. The morning air carried that familiar Southern California mix of ocean haze, exhaust, eucalyptus, and sun-baked asphalt. My tires hummed across pavement I’ve ridden for years. Somewhere between the steady click of the chain and the rhythm of my breathing, Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s The Captain and the Kid found its way into my ears. There’s a strange kind of magic when the cadence of a ride syncs perfectly with a song you know by heart. Suddenly, the music and lyrics stop being background noise and become a lens. And through that lens, the road started talking. I've been cycling on this road some, Can't help feeling I've been showing my friends around. I've seen it grow from next to nothing, To a giant eatin’ up our town. Called up the tealeaves and the tarots, Asked the...
Post a Comment
Read more

Epictetus, Ego, and Acronyms

In this episode, Destroy Communication, One Three-Letter Acronym at a Time This week, I want to explore a deeply relatable, universally feared workplace character: the "know-it-all." Now, I’m not pointing fingers here. If we are being completely honest, we have all played this role. We've all uttered some version of, "Yes, absolutely, that aligns with our strategic objectives," while our internal monologue is screaming, "I don't even know what the objective is, let alone the strategy." What got me thinking about this was a chapter in Ryan Holiday's book, Wisdom Takes Work . Holiday leans on a powerful piece of Stoic truth from the ancient philosopher Epictetus: "It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows." It's a brilliant quote that strikes right at the heart of the human ego. You can't learn what you already know, and you certainly can't learn what you pretend to know to save face. Though to be ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Breaking the Script

In this episode, The Art of the Short-Circuit. We spend a surprising amount of our lives on conversational autopilot. You see it everywhere. At the hardware store. At the post office. In office hallways, where two people can exchange greetings, discuss the weather, and continue on their way without either one actually hearing what the other said. "How are you?” "Good. You?” “Busy." “Yep." It's less of a conversation and more of a system check. Most of us aren't being rude. We're just moving fast. We have emails to answer, meetings to attend, errands to run, and a hundred other things competing for our attention. Before long, our interactions become little more than verbal lane markers helping us navigate the day. I like to break the script. When I run into someone, instead of the usual greetings, I'll ask: "What's the good word?” The reaction is almost always worth it. You can practically see the gears stop turning. People pause. They blink....
Post a Comment
Read more

The Yellow Legal Pad

In this episode, the Art of Refiring July 1st is staring me in the face, less than two weeks away. For years, retirement seemed like something that happened to other people. Suddenly, it's on my calendar. I've been thinking a lot about the dreaded "R-word" lately. Not because I'm worried about having enough to do. Quite the opposite. What fascinates me is this strange paradox: Why does retirement make so many of us nervous, while having a job—even one that regularly drives us crazy—somehow feels comforting? Let's be honest. Most of us spend years complaining about meetings that should have been emails, reply-all disasters, impossible deadlines, and that one coworker who insists on microwaving leftover fish in the breakroom. Yet when the idea of walking away finally arrives, we hesitate. I think I've figured out why. A career isn't just a job. It's a highly structured coping mechanism. For forty-plus years, somebody else has basically decided what I...
Post a Comment
Read more