Bean There, Drank That…
This is the second week that I’ve been on crutches. It has been quite an adjustment and accepting the limitations was a bit difficult. That said, I’m blown away by the helpful people in my life making this break more bearable—Namely Brian.
I should have known that when he threw me over his shoulder and carried me almost a mile on a narrow rocky path, he would also step up to the plate at home. The first week, he did everything that I couldn’t. He made it easy to accept help, because he provided it with such warmth. Warning: the next phrase is going to be a large cheese wheel rolling your way—I have fallen even more in love with him this past week. He is a true care-taker and provider. There. I said it.
I’m also amazed with how eager the friends I’ve made here are to take me out of the house and make me comfortable. It’s been a real blessing. David and Michelle, the owners of the new apartment we moved into turned out to be good friends of ours. They’re so kind, and Brian and I get along so well with them. Michelle was the first friend to take me out of what seems now like a burrow, a safety net, my home. She and David are coffee connoisseurs and have a love for a small coffee roaster/café named Bean There. Although I’m no connoisseur, I love coffee and am always eager to try new roasts, blends, and flavors. In her delicately sweet manner, she asked what I was in the mood for. Unfortunately about 95% of the time when someone asks me this question, I am useless, for I am up for anything and want to make sure they’re happy with the choice as well. I let Michelle take the reins with the menu since she clearly knew what she was talking about.
She ordered two types of brewed coffee—aeropress, and Chemex. They were fantastic. Watching the delicate yet ebony liquid drops fall into the pots was like watching a psychologically thrilling movie. I couldn’t take my eyes off it and was excited to see, smell, and taste the end result. The man performing the tasting was serious about coffee. It was like an art. Hypothetically speaking, if I didn’t have an appreciation for specialty brewed coffee before entering the doorway accompanied with rich Arabica aroma, and seeing this man’s gentle yet intentional movement with every step of the process, I am now. It was beautiful. Being a novice when it comes to coffee tasting, I did what anyone would do—faked it. First, I appreciated the rich color of the coffee with my eyes. It wasn’t the unfortunately common diluted coffee that only is dark after the whole pot has been brewed. I brought the coffee mug up to my nose, initiating a soft whirlpool motion with my hand and inhaled for a few seconds straight. I proceeded to slowly tilt the mug so that I would get a small yet sufficient taste in my mouth. Moving the back of my tongue in a way that made me look like a bullfrog, I was able to fully taste the body, aroma, and richness of the coffee. It was delectable. It had a hint of pine that I had never tasted in coffee before.
Along with the coffee, Michelle ordered a slice of carrot cake, and a chocolate chip cookie for us to split. The cake was fluffy, and moist. The shavings of carrot and chopped walnuts made it more of a meal than dessert. The icing was phenomenal and contained more butter than your usual cream cheese frosting. The cookie was ever so thin with what seemed like a complete layer of milk chocolate—as opposed to chips. Each bite I took, the paper-thin cocoa layer was present, and it was delicious.
In the middle of Michelle and I sat her adorable 14 month-old son Timothy. He brought the party. He was well-behaved and simply wouldn’t allow us to eat anything he didn’t try first. I call it quality control. He had cheeks for days and aqua blue eyes that were warm and cheerful. His smooth blond hair turned into curly-cues at the nape of his neck. He spent the hour alternating between grabbing whatever was in sight (to my surprise not throwing it), taking bites of sweets, and giving me high-fives. I’m fond of the little guy.