At Home Barista

I decided to take this large amount of time to venture into an uncharted territory, coffee. While the whole word is in quarantine, I can’t just simply walk to cougar grounds anymore or drive up to the popular coffee shops without feeling some sort of guilt. So I decided to become my own barista. It was very confusing at first. What the hell does dark roast mean? Despite how confuse I was, I decided to look into the different brown coffee beans that my family already had at home. I opened the first pouch and it attacked my nostrils with the strongest Java scent I have ever smelled. I immediately closed that scent bomb, but then this silver bag with yellow flowers had caught my attention. Cautiously, I opened the bag and felt a relief as the sweet scent of vanilla and coffee flowed into my nose. Pleased with the smell, I had picked what type of coffee I was going to attempt to make. I searched through our wood cabinets to find our small sleek looking coffee grinder. With a cold silver spoon, I had scooped some into the small grinder and began pulsing. Once it was done, the rich smell of vanilla and coffee had grown stronger, but not to the point it was irritable. I scooped the coffee grinds into a tall and slim glass contraption known as a French press and continued to pour the hot boiling water into it. After a few minutes had gone by, I served myself to some of the dark coffee into a stubby mug. I grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator and watched how the coffee and milk swirled together into one. I popped open the clear container where we keep the sweet sugar and shoveled my spoon into it to sprinkle it into my masterpiece. I twirled the spoon in the mug for a while and saw everything blend together so smoothly. I grab a dry napkin and laid the wet spoon on it to prevent the creation of a sticky puddle. I lift the mug close to my face, blow the steam away from my mouth and took a sip from the warm light brown liquid. And then it hits me, I don’t like coffee.