I don’t like fancy coffee, or as I call it “fun” coffee. I like it black and sweet. My idea of heaven is being able to consume a samovar’s worth of Turkish coffee and not fall victim to a caffeine overdose. I do make an exception at this time a year when I make Christmas coffee. It’s not really “fun” coffee per se, but it does toe the line.

I love my regular Joe, a steady and capable companion each morning. But add a dash of cinnamon and freshly ground nutmeg  to the grounds before brewing and my kitchen becomes an exotic cafe. There in the corner, he catches my eye. The Cary Grant of coffee, elegant yet insouciant with his special blend of spice. Hot, steamy and dressed better than everyone else but without vainity or self-consciousness. Just an elevated brew, ready to sweep me off my feet for however long we have together (I can tell you, we have from November 30th until January 1st).

Ah, coffee.

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