I love coffee, I love tea, I love the Java Jive and it loves me Coffee and tea and the java and me, A cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup! — Ben Oakland and Milton Drake, Java Jive Hi I’m Karl Elvis, […]
I love coffee, I love tea,
I love the Java Jive and it loves me
Coffee and tea and the java and me,
A cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup!
— Ben Oakland and Milton Drake, Java Jive
Hi I’m Karl Elvis, and I’m a Java Junkie.
It’s true.
I love coffee. The smell. The taste. That buzz from the first sip of the morning. It’ll never feel that good again the rest of the day.
I wake up craving it. The thought makes me salivate.
I’m talking coffee; black and hot, with sugar and no other flavor. No nuts no vanilla. No milk. No syrups, no cinnamon, no chocolate. Just coffee. Strong and black, black black.
I make espresso. I make french press so heavy it’s hard to lift. My friend Amie Sue describes it as chewy.
I don’t fuck around with coffee. If it’s not strong, if it doesn’t roar coffee at you, I don’t want it.
When I go to a coffee bar, I usually drink espresso if they’re really good at it, or a multi-shot short (or tall at that place but we’ll make that a tirade for later). No lattes, no fuss. Once in a while a macchiato if they do it right, espresso with a little dab of foam.
The modern trend of kiddee-coffee that tastes like soda pop disgusts me.
But I am a junkie.