This blog is maintained by Douglas Garner; owner/ roaster of The Mister G Coffee Company.
My love of coffee started at a young age when I would go with my dad to a local restaurant. I learned that coffee was not only a drink but a catalyst for conversation, connection, and understanding.
The most memorable moment I shared with someone over a cup of coffee would have to have been December 31st, 2005. It was around noon that day–a Saturday–and I was stuck at a family reunion at a church up the road from where I live. It was just my luck that a good friend of mine called me up, asking if I’d like to go for a drive and perhaps grab a hot beverage to celebrate New Years before the partying began. My mother relinquished me from the drab and torturous family reunion, and I happily hopped in the car with my friend, Josh.
We enjoyed some mellow music during our drive, winding around the turns and admiring the wintry landscape, and before we knew it we had arrived at our favorite eatery known as Red’s Diner. We sat at the bar and had about six cups of coffee between the two of us–not even realizing it. We talked about politics, education, love, movies, and music. We exchanged deep thoughts that I’m not sure I’ve shared with anyone since. The waitress behind the counter must have been quite taken aback by our conversation (I mean, come on, how many life-changing conversations do you think a waitress at Red’s Diner hears every day?) because she presented us with a plate of buttery toast and jam. She said, “It’s on the house,” and gave us a little wink and a smile. My friend and I will forever remember that year as, “2005: The Year of Free Toast.”
coffee, i have come to realize, is the best way to begin any conversation. it’s the perfect in when trying to woo someone’s attention, it’s the perfect ending to a long week, it’s the perfect beginning, middle, or late end of any day as well. though i don’t drink coffee on a daily basis, i have come to enjoy a cup or two now and again. when i received a pleading facebook note to post my “over coffee” story, i began to think.
my father has drank a pot of coffee every day for my entire life, but my first “coffee” experience was a sheetz capachino when i was in 6th grade. the second (and more lasting) experience of coffee was the aroma of a certain middle school music teacher’s office. at this point i did not drink coffee (other than the sheetz machine specials!) and certainly didn’t enjoy black coffee. but the smell provided immense comfort, warmth, and a blanket of safety. 6 years later and i can remember the feeling of comfort after a long day and walking down the hall and smelling coffee. it truly is healing.
before college i never quite understood where this mass addiction people had came from. now i understand. i have found, however, that caffine seems to do very little for me unless it comes in extremely high doses. so even though coffee is not was keeps me awake, it’s what gets me through the long weeks. i enjoy the special flavors, mixes, and creamers this world has brought to the coffee world. i am not a picky bean person, so i really can’t tell the difference between Folgers, Starbucks, and the cheap stuff from the machine. i have found great comfort in coffee and refuse to start a long trip without a cup, not because it keeps me awake, but because it has become a comforting companion.
i have had countless conversations which began over some coffee. it’s a stable get together when i go home for my friend and i. it amazes me to think that 6 years ago i would have told you that i don’t like coffee, only the smell, and that i would only brew a cup of coffee so my house would smell of it, not so i could drink it.
every cup of coffee has a story….and it has a story to remind you of….and every cup of coffee just might take you back to a certain middle school teacher’s office when your world was flipped upside down and the only thing you needed was for someone to tell you to breathe….
-megerz
My memory, I have noticed, is largely unreliable. There are vivid details that accompany moments that occured during my childhood. Conversely, there exist moments when I find myself driving with absolutely no memory of the many miles in which I had just then driven.
To this day, I can still recall my first cup of coffee. More accurately, my first taste of coffee, for it was my mothers cup that she permitted me to sip from. She would meet with another mother from our Roaring Spring neighborhood, and they would sit in the kitchen and discuss whatever it is mothers discuss during winter mornings in rural 1970’s Pennsylvania. And us kids would entertain ourselves outdoors. sled riding, throwing snowballs, or constructing unsophisticated igloos.
I can still remember the rapidly moving clouds that appeared in her coffee as the creamer was added, and the vortex that ensued upon stirring, but most notable was the coming of age, as it were, to this idea of adulthood. Albeit a short taste of what it must be like to actually be an adult. For in those days, the idea of sitting around and grumbling about the shotcomings of Jimmy Carter seemed less fun than the wonderous world of snow that was always summoning us kids to return to our rightful place outdoors.
It should be noted, that I am now one year younger than my mother was during that winter so long ago, and I cannot think of a better place to be than the kitchen table savoring a cup of coffee while my children are enjoying their childhood. I have never once declined their request to sip at my cup.
The Curious Roaster 
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