I didn’t start drinking coffee till I turned 50. I blame my mother ( don’t we all?) When I was little and would see the grown ups drinking coffee, I would ask for some. She would tell me that drinking coffee would turn my ears black. I pointed out to her that her ears weren’t black. “Well, I’m a grown up,” was her reply. When I was allowd a cup of coffee, it was more milk than coffee with too much sugar added (probably my doing). I never finished a cup of it and never developed a taste for it, until this past February.
My very good friend and I share a birthday. We are birthday sisters! We took a trip to the coast; the Gulf of Mexico is just as beautiful in the winter as it is in the summer.
For our birthday supper, we went to a swank restaurant called the Wharf. If you’re ever in Orange Beach you must go. I recommend the scallops and the shrimp stuffed quail. Absolutely the best meal I’ve ever had.
It was a gorgeous room and had equally handsome waiters. Very European looking men; dressed all in white, so as to compliment the color palette of the room. Hues of the ocean and shoreline graced the walls where windows looked out to the wharf and a fleet of yhats.
My friend told our waiter that we were celebrating our birthday. After dinner he brought out complimentary dishes of strawberry Gelato. Birthday Sister asked for coffee and on a whim, I asked for our waiter to bring me a cup too. After all, I was now 50! I had finally reached adulthood.
Tiny delicate cups of expresso were brought to the table. My friend used all of the cream, before I could fix my cup.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll call the waiter for some more.” I think she just wanted another chance to eye him. And he was an eye full.
“No, don’t do that. I’ll just use my Gelato!” I told my sister and scraped the last spoonful into my expresso.
Pretty dang good!
Since February, I’ve continued to enjoy coffee. My mother is happy. The lady that told me my ears would turn black jumps at the chance to share a pot with me.