I was never dependent on caffeine before I became a parent. The two co-incided, I believe, by accident, though I can’t deny that once picked up together, they became a good pairing. The real reason I began to drink caffeine—in my case, espresso—was that my wife and I were given a wonderful cappuccino maker as a wedding present, and I had begun experimenting with it, wanting to put it to good use. A few days into our first child’s life, good use was found.
I do not want to be misunderstood: When I took up espresso-making, it was not the involved, many-step art that is practiced in fancy coffee shops or by disciples of the Coffee Bean in front of cameras for videos they upload to TikTok to be viewed and judged by their fellow enthusiasts. (For Jaspreet Singh Boparai on another Italian artistic legacy, Duccio, see page 55.) This was too intimidating for me. Instead I found that you can buy a K-Cup version of pre-ground espresso, packed into a disposable coffee-filter packet. With these I experimented only slightly, trying a few brands before settling on the one that I decided was “mine.” I then made a double shot each morning for years, with cold milk added to bring it down to lukewarm temperature. I fear that this is the sort of ketchup-on-a-well-done-steak admission that ensures any self-respecting espresso drinkers will have stopped reading by the end of the previous sentence. I find comfort in reminding myself that the liberal coffee snob has a long lineage; in Bleak House, Mrs. Jellyby’s absorption in African philanthropic efforts, to the neglect of her children at home, are undertaken with a “view to the general cultivation of the coffee berry—AND the natives” (for Ferdinand Mount on Dickens, see page 62).
Since then I have taken up caffeine and dropped it in various forms: espresso, instant espresso, Diet Coke, tea, coffee. Dropped, mostly to show myself I could; picked back up, to my surprise, because I like how coffee tastes (milk, no sugar), and even more because I like the idea of the morning routine. My favorite parts of the Jeeves stories are when Bertie Wooster relates that he has once again breakfasted on eggs and bacon. Neither my own memory nor ChatGPT, however, has been able to help me learn what style of eggs Wooster preferred. (For Nic Rowan’s higher and better thoughts on ChatGPT, see page 33.)
The legend goes that coffee was initially forbidden as a terrible drug, the devil’s bean, that would cause the downfall of Christendom. (For Paul Kingsnorth on the end of the West, see page 38.) It took Pope Clement VIII’s special advocacy and blessing to clear the path through the centuries to my kitchen.
