Hi folks! I’m currently traveling for a work trip, so instead of the usual Thursday article, I wanted to pose a question to everyone who subscribes to Boss Barista. It’s one I use both as an icebreaker and as a way to establish a moment of connection, an acknowledgment that we’re all brought together by shared experiences. I love stories, and I love what this question reveals about people’s memories and origins.
You might recognize this query, which I pose to all my guests at the top of every podcast interview: What’s your first, most salient coffee memory?
Here’s mine: I grew up seeing my grandmother make coffee for everyone. She had a little espresso machine and made Cuban-style coffee, which involved filling a metal cup with sugar, and letting the first drippings of the espresso just absorb into the sugar. Then she’d whip the two together, making a frothy and sweet base she’d pour the rest of the espresso over. She’d hand everyone their coffee in small, thimble-sized cups. It’s an experience I still crave anytime I go home to Miami.
What about you? Share your coffee memories in the thread below—I can’t wait to read your stories!
I am from Viet Nam (we produced second highest quantity of coffee in the world) and my memory with coffee was with with my dad at local cafes, watching him leisurely sip his black coffee drip while perusing a newspaper
Until three and a half years ago, when I met the man who is now my boyfriend, I had never had a single cup of coffee in my life. I never had a concrete philosophy against coffee; if anything, I wonder if it was because I *didn't* grow up in a family with a coffee culture, much less any type of rituals around food. (A whole other story.)
On one of our dates, he asked if I wanted to try a decaf cappuccino, and I said yes. My boyfriend loves food the way that I do but had never had a person to celebrate with, and I was starting to realize I needed to say yes to more things in my life, as cheesy as that sounds. The cappuccino itself was, in hindsight, not that great! But the experience was, as was the boyfriend. We have Sunday mornings together, coffee and pastries, and it's home.
In South India, we pronounce it 'Kaapi'. Filter Kaapi. Usually brewed from the coffee seed powder that comes from the coffee plantations in the hills.
There is an interesting legend regarding the genesis of coffee production in India. In 19th Century, Baba Budan ,a Muslim saint brought seven coffee seeds to Mysore, in India by hiding it in his beard (while returning from Hajj. The export of coffee seeds was strictly not permitted by the Arabs during that time. Soon coffee plantations developed in South India especially Karnataka, Kerala & Tamil Nadu.
For me, the best time to relish the hot cup of coffee is winter, preferably from the warmth of a woolen blanket, with a book close by.
I want to say I was 4 or 5 years old as the earliest memory of watching my father make coffee. He used a moka like pot, put in a couple of scoops of cafe du monde (it's like a SE Asian refugee family thing I feel due to french colonization), and once that is done pour in condense milk. Sometimes I would see him dunk a piece of vietnamese baguette and other times ritz crackers. I remember trying it myself with his mug once and liked that taste which forever holds one of my fondest memory about my dad. Unfortunately, I never liked condense milk ever since I've watched him pour that sticky gooeyness into his mug haha. Although we're Cambodian, he does appreciate Vietnamese style coffee!
We never brewed coffee at home as a kid but I remember my parents getting coffee from Costa. I remember my mom asking for different patterns like a leaf or heart.
I have two, but don't remember which one was first, so here they are:
My mom didn't drink coffee in her family but my dad did, so when they got married she tried to make coffee for him. I remember seeing the cloth coffee filter on the kitchen counter and then not seeing it anymore. I guess at some point my father said he didn't like the coffee and my mom grew up and decided she didn't have to make it any more!
When I was in grade school, I used to have breakfast looking at a clock with an eskimo walking to mark the seconds and a glass of milk with instant coffee (what I think is pretty common in Latin America). But I kind of hated the milk and I'm glad my mom stopped giving it to me at some point!
As I write the scent of coffee wafts from my Grandmother's kitchen. She was a fourth generation Northern Californian born Ten Mile River Mendocino County (now a state park) and settled in San Francisco. Adults were very uptight about allowing children coffee but if we persisted we got some coffee in our milk.
7th grade, one night at the downtown outdoor ice skating rink, i was somewhat peer-pressured into spending a precious $2.50 on my very first cappuccino, the kind from those dingy old push-button machines that you find at dated rest stops. i loved the syrupy sweet hot drink. we stood outside watching the other skaters in the dusk, sipping our cappuccinos, and it's still very vivid - out with friends, no parents! in the city! at night! with a COFFEE! thank you for the prompt :)
My first memory with coffee is tied unfortunately to my ED (so *tw*). My mom and dad didn't drink coffee growing up, so I didn't have it as a regular thing until high school. I'd buy the powdered cappuccino stuff that barely cuts it as coffee, and it was something of a double edged sword: a treat and a way to stave off hunger. I'm not so sure that it worked, but I wound up falling in love with coffee and worked as a barista for years after.
My first memory of coffee is the old aluminum perk pot my parents and grandparents used and even though I was too young go to drink it, I loved the aroma ☕️ 🖤
I'd been drinking starbucks as a social thing for years, but when I was in Istanbul during college, I tried Turkish coffee and it completely changed the way I thought about coffee. It inspired me to work as a barista after college, which I still consider to be one of my favorite jobs!
Mine was with my grandmother too! She would use a coffee sock to brew her coffee and would heat her milk in a small pot with sugar. And every once in a while after school she would serve me some in one of her fancy mugs on a saucer with buttered crackers or bread. I miss those moments with her so much!
Maybe not my very first, but most salient. I was working in Guatemala in the Peace Corps when my parents and younger brother came to visit. We were in Antigua and went to a nice breakfast place. We ordered some coffees - I ordered an espresso. When the coffees came out, mine was in a tiny cup. The family laughed and asked if I knew that's what I was getting. I said, 'yes, of course, yes I did know.' Then I took my little cup, jutted out my pinky and had a sip trying to hide the fact that I had absolutely no clue what an espresso was. And I made that espresso last throughout the entire breakfast.
When I was maybe 5 years old in Lima, Peru, Abuelita made breakfast, cafe con leche with pan con chicharron—fried pork and sweet potato sandwich. It was the perfect combination, sweet sips in between rich, savory bites. To this day, cafe con leche is my drink, always a dark roast.
Apr 7, 2022·edited Apr 7, 2022Liked by Ashley Rodriguez
Growing up with my Dad in a coffee free household in the UK, I never experienced coffee until I visited my mom in New Jersey. Even then it wasn't something that was part of my life until I spent some time between school and college living with her in the US.
The daily ritual of putting the coffee of the week from her subscription service, adding half and half and sugar is one of those memories of her that I'll always hold dear to my heart.
It's also the time that I first discovered the joy of whiling away hours in a Barnes and Noble, or one of the plethora of Central Perkesque coffee houses that 90's college towns seemed to be full of.
My memory is pretty much the same as yours. My grandma would make the cafecito, and some of it made its way into my café con leche in the mornings.
I am from Viet Nam (we produced second highest quantity of coffee in the world) and my memory with coffee was with with my dad at local cafes, watching him leisurely sip his black coffee drip while perusing a newspaper
Until three and a half years ago, when I met the man who is now my boyfriend, I had never had a single cup of coffee in my life. I never had a concrete philosophy against coffee; if anything, I wonder if it was because I *didn't* grow up in a family with a coffee culture, much less any type of rituals around food. (A whole other story.)
On one of our dates, he asked if I wanted to try a decaf cappuccino, and I said yes. My boyfriend loves food the way that I do but had never had a person to celebrate with, and I was starting to realize I needed to say yes to more things in my life, as cheesy as that sounds. The cappuccino itself was, in hindsight, not that great! But the experience was, as was the boyfriend. We have Sunday mornings together, coffee and pastries, and it's home.
In South India, we pronounce it 'Kaapi'. Filter Kaapi. Usually brewed from the coffee seed powder that comes from the coffee plantations in the hills.
There is an interesting legend regarding the genesis of coffee production in India. In 19th Century, Baba Budan ,a Muslim saint brought seven coffee seeds to Mysore, in India by hiding it in his beard (while returning from Hajj. The export of coffee seeds was strictly not permitted by the Arabs during that time. Soon coffee plantations developed in South India especially Karnataka, Kerala & Tamil Nadu.
For me, the best time to relish the hot cup of coffee is winter, preferably from the warmth of a woolen blanket, with a book close by.
I want to say I was 4 or 5 years old as the earliest memory of watching my father make coffee. He used a moka like pot, put in a couple of scoops of cafe du monde (it's like a SE Asian refugee family thing I feel due to french colonization), and once that is done pour in condense milk. Sometimes I would see him dunk a piece of vietnamese baguette and other times ritz crackers. I remember trying it myself with his mug once and liked that taste which forever holds one of my fondest memory about my dad. Unfortunately, I never liked condense milk ever since I've watched him pour that sticky gooeyness into his mug haha. Although we're Cambodian, he does appreciate Vietnamese style coffee!
We never brewed coffee at home as a kid but I remember my parents getting coffee from Costa. I remember my mom asking for different patterns like a leaf or heart.
I have two, but don't remember which one was first, so here they are:
My mom didn't drink coffee in her family but my dad did, so when they got married she tried to make coffee for him. I remember seeing the cloth coffee filter on the kitchen counter and then not seeing it anymore. I guess at some point my father said he didn't like the coffee and my mom grew up and decided she didn't have to make it any more!
When I was in grade school, I used to have breakfast looking at a clock with an eskimo walking to mark the seconds and a glass of milk with instant coffee (what I think is pretty common in Latin America). But I kind of hated the milk and I'm glad my mom stopped giving it to me at some point!
As I write the scent of coffee wafts from my Grandmother's kitchen. She was a fourth generation Northern Californian born Ten Mile River Mendocino County (now a state park) and settled in San Francisco. Adults were very uptight about allowing children coffee but if we persisted we got some coffee in our milk.
7th grade, one night at the downtown outdoor ice skating rink, i was somewhat peer-pressured into spending a precious $2.50 on my very first cappuccino, the kind from those dingy old push-button machines that you find at dated rest stops. i loved the syrupy sweet hot drink. we stood outside watching the other skaters in the dusk, sipping our cappuccinos, and it's still very vivid - out with friends, no parents! in the city! at night! with a COFFEE! thank you for the prompt :)
My first memory with coffee is tied unfortunately to my ED (so *tw*). My mom and dad didn't drink coffee growing up, so I didn't have it as a regular thing until high school. I'd buy the powdered cappuccino stuff that barely cuts it as coffee, and it was something of a double edged sword: a treat and a way to stave off hunger. I'm not so sure that it worked, but I wound up falling in love with coffee and worked as a barista for years after.
Congratulations on the fellowship, Ashley! 🎉
My first memory of coffee is the old aluminum perk pot my parents and grandparents used and even though I was too young go to drink it, I loved the aroma ☕️ 🖤
I'd been drinking starbucks as a social thing for years, but when I was in Istanbul during college, I tried Turkish coffee and it completely changed the way I thought about coffee. It inspired me to work as a barista after college, which I still consider to be one of my favorite jobs!
Mine was with my grandmother too! She would use a coffee sock to brew her coffee and would heat her milk in a small pot with sugar. And every once in a while after school she would serve me some in one of her fancy mugs on a saucer with buttered crackers or bread. I miss those moments with her so much!
Maybe not my very first, but most salient. I was working in Guatemala in the Peace Corps when my parents and younger brother came to visit. We were in Antigua and went to a nice breakfast place. We ordered some coffees - I ordered an espresso. When the coffees came out, mine was in a tiny cup. The family laughed and asked if I knew that's what I was getting. I said, 'yes, of course, yes I did know.' Then I took my little cup, jutted out my pinky and had a sip trying to hide the fact that I had absolutely no clue what an espresso was. And I made that espresso last throughout the entire breakfast.
When I was maybe 5 years old in Lima, Peru, Abuelita made breakfast, cafe con leche with pan con chicharron—fried pork and sweet potato sandwich. It was the perfect combination, sweet sips in between rich, savory bites. To this day, cafe con leche is my drink, always a dark roast.
Growing up with my Dad in a coffee free household in the UK, I never experienced coffee until I visited my mom in New Jersey. Even then it wasn't something that was part of my life until I spent some time between school and college living with her in the US.
The daily ritual of putting the coffee of the week from her subscription service, adding half and half and sugar is one of those memories of her that I'll always hold dear to my heart.
It's also the time that I first discovered the joy of whiling away hours in a Barnes and Noble, or one of the plethora of Central Perkesque coffee houses that 90's college towns seemed to be full of.
Makes me smile to think of it.