On The Fly

In this episode, Morning Coffee–Update . . . Now, I’m not saying coffee is a biological necessity. I hear there are people who wake up naturally, fueled entirely by optimism, morning yoga, and the sheer thrill of being alive. I’ve never actually met one, but I assume they exist. As for me, at 4:30 a.m., my brain (with a caffeine boost) is a finely tuned analytical engine, ready to tackle the day. But, dear readers, I come before you today as a humbled man. I owe you an apology. Not one of those carefully worded "I'm sorry if anyone was offended" apologies. A real one. For years, I stood on my digital soapbox, defending the utilitarian brew button on my electric drip coffee maker. I praised convenience. I extolled efficiency. I dispensed coffee advice with confidence, despite knowing only slightly more about brewing than the average vending machine. I wasn't merely mistaken—I was enthusiastically, publicly mistaken. The revelation came last week. I was in Tucson, enjo...

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 , coax...