Tasting Kenya in My Coffee

In my morning coffee I imagine the taste of Kenya. It is a rich, smokey flavor, the primal essence of brown as seen in my minds eye. As I sip, I can see the sun baking the ground, wind sweeping it clean. Red coffee beans absorb the sun, just like millions of red beans before them.

Picked by hand, they now rest in baskets, in a shaded stall. The noise of the market surrounds them. Voices of shoppers and buyers, children, donkeys, birds, all echoing through stall after stall, absorbed by the beans.

Sealed and dark, they make their way across the ocean. Now the bright crimson beans are roasted until they resemble the same brown of the earth they drew their flavor from. Flavor is compressed and concentrated. The beans carry the magnified flavors of Kenya, the bright sunlight and rich brown soil, all sealed up inside.

This warm brown of coffee is here in front of me, but is not from here. It's a flavor from the distant place I can only imagine, as the coffee swirls in my mouth, starting the day.

Comments

[mashby]

Great entry Michael. I really enjoyed the rich experience. :)

[Mike Rohde]

I can see you're quite the happy chap Tom, judging by your oh so friendly opening line.

If you'd like to run a blog on the tyranny of coffee farming, go right ahead, be my guest. After all, blogs are free and easy to start up.

However, what I choose to write and post here is my business, juvinile or not, thank you very much.