Coffee review

Bilingual American text: coffee and Life

Published: 2024-11-08 Author: World Gafei
Last Updated: 2024/11/08, Grandma doesn't just like coffee. To be fair, coffee is her favorite. Coffee is as important to grandma as wine is to a sommelier.

Coffee and Life

Grandmother didn’t just like her coffee, and it wouldn’t really do her justice to say she loved her coffee. Grandmother was to coffee what a sommelier is to wine. She knew the intricacies of coffee, the different tastes and even the textures. And only the best would do for her. No instant coffee, or coffee bought at the grocery store. She had to have fresh coffee, from a respectable coffee shop.“The morning cup of coffee sets the tone for the whole day,” she used to say。

Grandma didn't just like coffee. To be fair, coffee was her passion. Coffee is to Grandma what wine is to sommeliers. She knows the intricacies of coffee, its different flavors and even its structural characteristics. She drinks only the best coffee, neither instant nor grocery. She insisted on fresh coffee from reputable coffee shops. "A cup of coffee in the morning sets the tone for the whole day." She used to say that.

I used to go to Grandmother’s every Sunday morning. Her routine was always the same. She would kiss me once on each cheek, hang up my coat and lead me into the kitchen, slice a piece of banana bread right out of the oven (sometimes cranberry), and pour a cup of freshly brewed coffee。

I used to go to Grandma's every Sunday morning, and she always greeted me with the same routine. She would kiss me on each cheek, hang up my coat, take me into the kitchen, cut a slice of fresh banana bread (sometimes cranberry), and pour me a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

“Alexa,” she said to me one day.“Did you know that every person’s personality is like a flavor of coffee?”

"Alicia," she said to me one day,"you know, everyone's personality is like a flavor of coffee."

“Really?”I said, amused at how Grandmotherrelished her coffee so much that she related everything to it。

"Is that right?" I said. It was funny to see Grandma love her coffee so much that she associated everything with it.

“Ye” she said.“You, my dear, are French vanilla. You are sweet, almost sickeningly so at times to the discerning coffee drinker。”I slightly recoiled at Grandmother’s assessment of me. You expect your grandmother to call you sweet, but never sickeningly sweet。

"Yes," she said. "You, my dear, are French vanilla. You're sweet, and for tasteful coffee drinkers, sometimes it's a little too sweet." After listening to what grandma said about me, I felt a little upset. Of course you want Grandma to say you're sweet, but you definitely don't want to be cloying.

“Your father is espresso,” she continued.“He comes on strong. There are many people who don’t like him, but others can’t live without that high feeling that he gives them. He has an addictive personality that many people can’t let go of。”

"Your father is an espresso," she continued."He makes a strong impression. There were many who didn't like him, but there were others who couldn't live without the excitement he brought. He has a deadly attraction that many people can't let go of."

“Let me gues Grandmother. You’re hazelnut。”

"Let me guess, granny, you're hazelnut."

“Hazelnut? Why on earth would you say that?”

"Hazelnut flavor? "What do you mean?"

“Because I find your coffee talk a bit nutty。”

"Because I find your coffee theory rather fanatical." (pun intended) nutty means to have a nutty taste or to be crazy about something.

I smiled at Grandmother, but I could tell she was not amused.“Alexa dear, I am trying to teach you a lesson about life here. I do not need you poking fun at me。”

I smiled at Grandma, but I could tell she didn't think it was funny. "My dear Alicia, I'm here to teach you a lesson about life, not to make fun of me."

A lesson about life? Is she kidding?“Grandmother, you can’t dissect a person’s personality by comparing them to a cup of coffee. People are more complex than that. Everyone has nuance personality quirk things that make them different. You just can’t go around saying, ‘She’s a dark roast, he’s an instant, he’s a mocha almond。”

A reason for life? Is she kidding? "Grandma, you can't analyze a person's personality with a cup of coffee. People are more complicated than coffee. Everyone is different, different personalities, different aspects. You can't just walk around and say,'She's a dark roast, he's an instant coffee, he's a mocha almond coffee…'"

Grandmother looked at me, almost a blank, dull stare.“Then you just don’t understand coffee,” she snapped, clearing my plate and coffee cup from the table.“I guess not,” I sighed, exasperated at my hazelnut grandmother。

Grandma looked at me with an almost vacant, frustrated look. "So you don't know anything about coffee," she snapped, clearing my plate and coffee cup from the table. "I think so," I sighed, annoyed at my hazelnut grandmother.

I went to Grandmother’s house many more times after that, and she always kept her same routine. It was a welcome routine, one that I enjoyed every week. Grandmother didn’t talk to me after that about the “coffee catastrophe” as I called it, but eventually, she did start to make more ridiculous claims concerning her favorite drink。

After that, I went to Grandma's house many times, and she still greeted me with the same procedure. I love this program and enjoy it once a week. After that, Grandma never talked to me about what I called the coffee catastrophe, but eventually she started making even more ridiculous claims about her favorite drink.

“I knew your grandfather was the right man for me because we loved our coffee the same way,” she said.“Cream with just a touch of sugar。”

"I know your grandfather is the perfect man for me because we both like the same coffee," she said."Cream with a little sugar."

I rolled my eyes.“Grandmother, many people like it that way。”

I rolled my eyes and said,"Grandma, a lot of people like that flavor."

“I disagree,” she said.“For most people, if they prefer cream, they like a lot of sugar, or at least a moderate amount. Those who drink it with just a touch of sugar usually put milk in it, or drink it black。”

"I disagree," she said."For most people, if they like cream, they like a lot of sugar, or at least a moderate amount of sugar. People who drink coffee with a little sugar usually add milk or drink it black."

“So what if Papa preferred his coffee black? Or with milk and sweetener? Does that mean that you would have never married? That I wouldn’t be here today?”

What if Grandpa prefers black coffee? Or milk with sweetener? Does that mean you wonn't marry him? "So what's wrong with me?"

“Oh don’t be silly,” Grandmother said.“I won’t think about your grandfather preferring his coffee any differently. I don’t know what would have become of us. But you, my dear Alexa, belong to me. You would be here no matter what。”

"Oh, don't be silly," Grandma said."I never thought your grandfather would like any different coffee. I don't know how it would have turned out differently between us, but you, my dear Alicia, belong to me. You'll be here anyway."

The last time I saw Grandmother was a Sunday just like all the others. I sat down at the table with Grandmother and she looked at me with a very intense look in her eyes。

The last time I saw Grandma was on a Sunday, just like any other Sunday. I sat at the table with Grandma, and she looked at me with a warm light in her eyes.

“Do you ever think about heaven?”she asked me。

"Have you ever wondered what heaven looks like?" She asked me.

I stared at Grandmother and stopped chewing for a moment。

I stared at my grandmother and stopped chewing for a moment.

“Well, do you?”she asked again。

"Well, have you thought about it?" She asked again.

“Umm, not really,” I said, growing increasingly uncomfortable with this line of conversation。

"Well... not much," I said, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with this type of conversation.

"Well, I've been thinking about it lately," Grandmother said. I mean, I am getting to that age where I realize that I don't have much more time here on earth. And I've just been thinking lately about heaven-and what's there and what's not. And I just hope that when it's my time to leave this world, the next one has everything that I love here. "

"well, I've been thinking about this lately," Grandma said. "I mean, I'm almost that age, so I realize I don't have much time in this world. Lately I've been thinking about what heaven is like-what's there, nothing there. And I just hope that when I leave this world, there is everything I love here in the other world. "

"And what's that, Grandmother?"

"what are those, Grandma?"

Good food, good people, and good coffee.

"good food, easy to get along with, and good coffee."

I smiled at Grandmother's simplicity and love for the good things in life. And I hoped that she would find exactly what she would be looking for in the next world .

I smiled at my grandmother's simplicity and love for the good things in life, and hoped that she would find everything she wanted in another world.

Grandmother passed away later that week. They found her sitting in her favorite rocker in the living room, half a cup of freshly brewed coffee by her side. And somehow, I knew that it was a sign that everything would be all right for Grandmother .

Grandma died that weekend. They found her sitting in her favorite rocking chair in the living room with half a cup of freshly brewed coffee beside her. For some reason, I understand that this is a sign that Grandma will be all right.

Now, years later, I'm frequently reminded of my Grandmother. The scent of freshly baked banana bread, or the way someone will kiss meon my cheek will bring a quick flashback of her. But my memories are always most vivid when I step foot into a coffee shop, the aroma of freshly roasted beans and brewed coffee livening my senses .

Now, after many years, I still think of my grandmother from time to time. The smell of freshly baked banana bread, or the way someone kissed me on the cheek, suddenly flashed her in my mind. But every time I walk into a cafe, my memory is always vivid, and the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and freshly brewed coffee always liven me up.

"What would you like?" The person at the counter asks me .

"what can I get you?" The man on the counter asked me.

"A medium hazelnut," I say. "Cream with just a touch of sugar."

"A medium hazelnut coffee," I said, "with cream and a little sugar."

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