Coffee has always been king in my family.
From the legendary chicory brew of Cafe du Monde to Seaport–a Southern arabica coffee we purchased in bulk for my grandfather–coffee has been a staple in both my childhood and well into college.
My first memories of coffee come from my father’s morning and evening routines. I always hung around my father when he was making coffee, just so I could retrieve the coffee canister from the second shelf of the fridge. This was my favorite part. That dry, aromatic puff when the corner of the lid was popped, the cold of the little plastic scoop against your fingers. Measuring out exactly 2 scoops into the basket, watching the machine as it gurgled and hissed and brought forth the black ichor of life. The same procedure followed in the evening, though with one scoop of coffee instead of two. Never decaf.
I was only allowed to sniff the carafe in the beginning, until I graduated to a demitasse cup with ¾ parts cream and ¼ part coffee. By high school I was drinking a cup of coffee in the morning with my father, and in college this amount nearly tripled.
It wasn’t until 2007 that I was properly diagnosed with a condition I’d had since I was a girl–gastroesophageal reflux disease: more commonly known as acid reflux or chronic heartburn. If you have never experienced heartburn, then I could never adequately describe the genuine agony the condition can create. The major contributing factor to the condition? DIET. You can see where this is going. Continue reading