Cafe Confessions part 1
Homemade Caramel Latte
O.K. this part of my life has only been known by close friends & family. However I will share it with you, now, today. I Indeed (middle name omitted) Love is a bonafide, certified, pure unadulterated “Espresso Addict”! There, I said it out loud for all the world to hear. (Admittance: Step 1 of 12!)
It all happened at the tender age of 19. I was in Chicago visiting my older cousin Bobby and his then girlfriend (now wife) Diane, both of whom had just finished medical school. They sent for me to come and hang out with them and expose me to Chicago Life, which included hitting up record stores for house music, checking out art festivals and of course some really good delicious food. One morning we went to a restaurant for breakfast, they suggested things for me to try, Buckwheat pancakes w/maple syrup – Delish! Then it happened. My cousin’s girlfriend Diane asked me if I ever had espresso before. I told her No, and explained how I didn’t like coffee ( I thought it was disgusting, can you believe that!?!) She smiled, gazed deeply into my eyes in a hypnotizing manner and said “Trust me, it’s like nothing you’ve ever had… had… had… had” (echo effect) well at least that’s how I remember it happening. They then took it upon themselves to order me the murky brown substance which arrived to my table moments later in a small tiny little cup. My street smarts should’ve kicked in knowing that things in small packages, with very high prices are either drugs or diamonds. Needless to say, there were no rocks in my cup. I took my first sip, it was hot, yet smooth, strong yet somehow delicate. It slipped down my throat making love to my palate, while choking me with it’s bitterness. I drank it. Looked at them both, and smiled. They smiled back, but their smiles were not the same as mine. They had the sinister grins of coffee junkies that took pleasure in giving me my first, well, HIT. I could feel something happening to my body! “Oh my God, I can’t feel my arms!” (Okay, that’s a little overboard, lol). But I did begin to twitch. Feet tapped for no apparent reason. My heart raced as if I were running from the cops! “What’s happening to me?” I thought to myself. My “shakes” were uncontrollable, and VERY noticeable. I think it kicked in, Diane said smiling at my cousin. “Keesh, you have the jitters!” she said laughingly. I continued to shake throughout breakfast, until the Buckwheat pancakes soaked the caffeine out of my system. “So, did you like the espresso?” she asked smiling. “More than you know Diane, More than you’ll ever know…”
A decade+ later. I feel like I need to sue my cousins Bobby and Diane, to pay for me to go to Rehab. And for the millions of dollars I’ve spent since that fated morning in Chicago (ok, Thousands). Do they even have rehab for espresso addicts? If not, the two of them could at least send me some patches, something. “Look at what you’ve done to me!! LOL!” No, I love them dearly and would never sue them for damages, but I do think that they should at least sponsor my addiction, “I mean.. really, can a girl at least get an unlimited supply of refillable Starbucks cards, please??” Never mind, who needs refillable cards, when you own your own.. Starbucks.
My personal STARBUCKS 🙂
Yes, this is a pic of my own personal Starbucks, I know you thought I was joking…. right? NOT HARDLY.
So, now you know about my addiction. If you can’t Beat ‘em … Join ‘em.