For the longest time I had settled on a routine, making virtually the same pot of coffee every morning. But one day in the dead of winter, while I was sipping my morning coffee, I realized that my daily cup was not particularly sparking joy. Coffee had moved far away from pleasure and become more about daily survival than anything.
I became obsessed with the idea of making the best possible cup of coffee at home. After a few days of research, I started tinkering with fine details on a daily basis. The results were all over the place. One day it was too bitter. Another day I basically made tea. One time it was almost like inhaling a Sour Patch Kid. After a couple weeks of tortuous attempts came a morning where I felt like I had created what I thought was a “pretty good cup of coffee.” It was bold. It was smooth. The milk chocolate notes promised in this particular bag of beans were there. I was thrilled.