More thoughts on coffee
Sometimes the French just do some things better than us.
Though this is not true of politics, cars, capitalism, or hygiene, it certainly is true of many of the finer points of life - fashion, poetry, wine, chocolate, food in general, and as I will point out in the rest of my reminscence, coffee. French coffee is just plain better than American coffee.
When I first came home, I thought I could find a cup o' joe in America that could rival that of France, but I think this was just because of my newfound surge of patriotism. After 6 months of searching and experimenting, I can honestly say that US coffee is crap in comparison. It breaks my heart to have to write that about my own country; nonetheless it must be said. This humbling revelation has of course caused a lot of introspection. Am I still an American? Is there still an America? Is coffee in France really as good as I remember it?
I think C.S. Lewis can help us out on this one. In The Chronicles of Narnia, specifically, The Silver Chair (spoiler alert), he introduces a character named Puddleglum, who ends up lost in the Underworld and encounters the evil green witch who tries to convince him that the Underworld is the only real world. She momentarily has him and his companions convinced that Aslan, lions in general, and sunlight are all just figments of his imagination. He was just really thinking of cats and lamps. After snapping out of her trance, our hero has a beautiful monologue which I will relay here.
"'One word, Ma'am,' he said, coming back from the fire; limping because of the pain. 'One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed or made up all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for the Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say*.'"
Ah Puddleglum. What a man!
I feel like I can relate with my coffee disappointment. Even if there is no such thing as the coffee that I remember, I'm going to live like there is and spend my life looking for it. Even if it doesn't exist, my imaginary coffee licks American coffee hollow.
Dear reader, please don't think that I am abandoning American coffee altogether. I have not come to condemn American coffee, but to save it. For now, I'll grin and bear the dark waters, and I'll dream of what it could be like. Watch out for the coffee revolution.
*Lewis, C.S. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Silver Chair; Harper Collins, 2001; p.633
Though this is not true of politics, cars, capitalism, or hygiene, it certainly is true of many of the finer points of life - fashion, poetry, wine, chocolate, food in general, and as I will point out in the rest of my reminscence, coffee. French coffee is just plain better than American coffee.
When I first came home, I thought I could find a cup o' joe in America that could rival that of France, but I think this was just because of my newfound surge of patriotism. After 6 months of searching and experimenting, I can honestly say that US coffee is crap in comparison. It breaks my heart to have to write that about my own country; nonetheless it must be said. This humbling revelation has of course caused a lot of introspection. Am I still an American? Is there still an America? Is coffee in France really as good as I remember it?
I think C.S. Lewis can help us out on this one. In The Chronicles of Narnia, specifically, The Silver Chair (spoiler alert), he introduces a character named Puddleglum, who ends up lost in the Underworld and encounters the evil green witch who tries to convince him that the Underworld is the only real world. She momentarily has him and his companions convinced that Aslan, lions in general, and sunlight are all just figments of his imagination. He was just really thinking of cats and lamps. After snapping out of her trance, our hero has a beautiful monologue which I will relay here.
"'One word, Ma'am,' he said, coming back from the fire; limping because of the pain. 'One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed or made up all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for the Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say*.'"
Ah Puddleglum. What a man!
I feel like I can relate with my coffee disappointment. Even if there is no such thing as the coffee that I remember, I'm going to live like there is and spend my life looking for it. Even if it doesn't exist, my imaginary coffee licks American coffee hollow.
Dear reader, please don't think that I am abandoning American coffee altogether. I have not come to condemn American coffee, but to save it. For now, I'll grin and bear the dark waters, and I'll dream of what it could be like. Watch out for the coffee revolution.
*Lewis, C.S. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Silver Chair; Harper Collins, 2001; p.633
posted by Andy at 3:23 PM
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