Coffee

In 1773, England imposed a tariff known as the Tea Act, which placed a tax on various goods imported by the American colonies, including tea. The colonists were not exactly excited about this new expense for their morning cuppa.

Boston, a primary seaport on the Atlantic coast, became the setting for a memorable night when outraged citizens rebelled against what they saw as blatant taxation. Under cover of darkness, and masked like pirates, they boarded a ship newly arrived in port carrying bales of tea and tossed the entire cargo into the harbor.

After that, they disdained to drink another cup of the stuff — at least until the tariff was removed.

Just like that, they became patriotic coffee devotees.

Coffeehouses were not unknown in Boston. In 1670, more than a century before the famous Boston Tea Party, Dorothy Jones obtained a license to sell coffee and opened a shop near the waterfront.

By 1718, drinking this caffeine-loaded brew was almost as popular as beer, and soon Mary Gutteridge opened Boston’s second coffeehouse.

Three centuries later, we have Starbucks.

I love a good cup of coffee.

In the winter of 1974, we were living in Germany. My favorite roommate, George William Harrell Jr., attended a conference in Berchtesgaden. I tagged along.
One morning I ignored the Autobahn and drove through a valley following a river that led toward Salzburg, Austria. Two doors down from where Mozart once lived stood a charming café, and I stepped inside for coffee.

My toes were frozen.

The café was dimly lit with parchment lampshades that cast a soft yellow glow. It smelled old and comforting, and best of all, it was warm. The waiter, dressed in the obligatory black and white, took my order in my best German. When he returned with the coffee, he gave a brief nod and brought me a copy of that day’s New York Times from the stand against the wall.

Not all coffeehouses in Europe are that congenial.

The other day I gave a talk on Hilton Head Island. I met some charming people, enjoyed a delicious lunch and managed to leave the island before the afternoon traffic began its daily exodus. My daughter Tamela and her husband, Nick, were with me.

For a treat, we stopped at the Starbucks in Bluffton, the one managed by Lisa.

Their menu might as well have been Greek. I had no idea what a Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino Blended Beverage was, although it sounded intriguing.

Bless her, Lisa guided me through the unfamiliar descriptions, and I ended up enjoying a caffe latte and a Yuzu Citrus Blossom. I cannot quite describe it, except to say it was delicious.

I still fondly remember Mama’s green enamel coffee pot. The basic formula was simple: add just the right amount of water, bring it to a boil, turn off the heat and stir in the coffee.

Let it sit for a bit so the grounds settle, then pour that aromatic cup through a strainer.
Nothing quite like it.