My Journey with Coffee
Before I went to college, coffee was barely a part of my life. In fact, I preferred hot chocolate over any cup of caffeine. My coffee experiences were limited to those store-bought instant packs—the ones that tasted vaguely like coffee but mostly like flavored water. My mornings were never powered by the bitter warmth of a brew but by the sugary, nostalgic comfort of cocoa. Coffee? It was more of a once-in-a-while experiment when I needed to stay awake. But I never thought it would become anything more than that.
That changed during my college years. As soon as I moved into my dorm, I noticed that coffee was everywhere—practically the life-blood of every student trying to survive late-night study sessions. While my classmates swore by their overpriced Starbucks lattes, I found myself charmed by a less glamorous option. Right downstairs from my dorm was a self-service coffee machine. It wasn't flashy, didn't boast any trendy names, but it ground fresh beans and brewed each cup right in front of you for a fraction of the price. The smell was divine, and the taste? Shockingly good. So much so that I abandoned my old habit of stopping by for a mocha or frappuccino. Every morning and afternoon, I'd drop by this humble machine and grab a cup of its dark, rich elixir.
But, like all good things, my magical coffee machine didn't last forever. One day, I came downstairs to find it was gone, replaced by an overly enthusiastic snack vending machine that could never replicate the aroma of freshly ground beans. I stood there, staring at the vacant spot where my daily coffee ritual used to live, feeling oddly betrayed.
In my quest to fill the caffeine void, I stumbled upon something called drip coffee. Imagine my surprise—a little pouch of coffee, like a tea bag, that could be brewed anywhere with just hot water. Intrigued, I ordered a bundle online, which included different brands from across the globe. It was a coffee lover's sampler, and I, in the spirit of adventure, was determined to try every single one. Some were too bitter, others too light, but one bag from a Japanese brand with subtle flavors and a smooth finish stole my heart. I found myself hunting for it again and again, rationing my last few packs until I could order more. It was like discovering my own personal coffee soulmate.
With my newfound appreciation for coffee, I began visiting local coffee shops more frequently. Not the big chains, but the quiet, tucked-away places where the baristas knew your name, and you could spend hours reading or working without anyone bothering you. There was something romantic about sitting in a cozy café with a steaming cup next to my laptop, pretending to be deep in thought, when in reality, I was probably just watching cat videos. But the experience was perfect.
Naturally, I began to toy with the idea of buying my own coffee machine. I spent weeks researching the best home brewers, learning about beans, grind sizes, and even the proper water temperature for brewing. But there was one thing that stopped me from taking the plunge—my irrational fear of bugs. I had heard horror stories about coffee beans attracting pests if not stored properly, and the thought of finding creepy crawlies in my kitchen was enough to make me pause. So, despite all my research, I decided that maybe, I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment.
For most people, coffee is a necessity—a jolt of energy to kickstart their day. But for me, it became something much more. I don't drink it to wake up or stay alert; I drink it because I love the smell, the ritual, and the memories it brings. From instant coffee to drip bags, from vending machines to cafés, my relationship with coffee has been a slow, winding journey. And while I may still be a little hesitant about that coffee machine (and the potential for bugs), I know that coffee will always be part of my life—not as a necessity, but as a quiet companion on my everyday adventures.
Enjoyed reading? Write me at hellomushroom @ proton dot me. 🍄