![\"Pollys](\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/81\/2015\/09\/Pollys-Coffee.jpg\")
<\/a>\nI adore my morning cup (sometimes two) of coffee.<\/p>\n
I love my morning cup (sometimes two) of coffee.<\/p>\n
And so I\u2019m pleased as punch it appears the earliest attested use of coffee was at the Sufi communities in and around Mocha, in what today is called Yemen. Mild stimulants (okay and sometimes not so mild) have a long association with religion. In China, for instance, the legendary origins of tea are tied into one of the many stories of Bodhidharma the semi-mythical founder of Zen. Speaking of tea, coffee has about two thirds more zing by volume than that other (mostly morning) stimulant. And finding a decent cup of Joe at a Zen retreat is not always the easiest thing\u2026 So I consider that our Boundless Way Zen<\/a> communities, being well known for offering decent coffee at our retreats as well as tea, as a major selling point. <\/p>\n I think the best guess going right now is that coffee originates in Ethiopia. But in fact its origins, as perhaps such should be, are wrapped in mystery. As is even the origin of the word \u201ccoffee.\u201d There are several possible Arabic words with very good stories attached to them. But, it appears no one knows, the word coffee in fact could come from one of several other languages.<\/p>\n The good folk at Wikipedia translate perhaps the earliest description of coffee in a European language, the account of Leonard Rauwolf, writing in German in 1583, following his decade long sojourn in the Near East:<\/p>\n \u201cA beverage as black as ink, useful against numerous illnesses, particularly those of the stomach. Its consumers take it in the morning, quite frankly, in a porcelain cup that is passed around and from which each one drinks a cupful. It is composed of water and the fruit from a bush called bunnu.\u201d<\/p>\n The Italians appear to be the first Europeans to drink coffee. It seems the first European coffee house was established in Rome in 1645. From there there was no turning back.<\/p>\n America has had a love affair with coffee from the establishment of the Republic. The shift from tea to coffee is an engrained part of our founding myths. Although we went through an unfortunate period in the twentieth century where ever cheaper beans, roasted possibly years before use, injected with caffeine, and brewed weakly, became the normative cup. Fortunately by the end of the century decent coffee was re-introduced first through the Beat generation and their various enclaves who had discovered espresso, and then through \u201cspecialty\u201d roasters, most notably the blessed folk at Peet\u2019s Coffee in Berkeley, and through one of their former employees, what would become the mega chain of coffee houses, Starbucks. <\/p>\n My own first taste of an espresso drink was during my High School days at the Cafe Mediterranean<\/a> in Berkeley, across the street from Moe\u2019s Books, where I would eventually work. My first taste of Peets was when they were barely a coffee house, and didn\u2019t even have an espresso machine, or tables to sit at. Like others addicted to the rich dark fluid, I recall ordering a cup and then sitting on the curb in front of the store, which still was mostly a warehouse of roasted beans.<\/p>\n The biggest problem with coming of age when I did was that my introduction to real coffee was in the form of very dark roasting. The American style was to roast the bean as dark as possible just short of burning. As the age of coffee in America has matured more subtle roasts have come into their own. But, I think of my tastebuds as burned out, and I really need that deep dark roast.<\/p>\n I prefer local roasters, but in a pinch I tend to rely on Peets as it prints a roasting date on its packages, something important to me. Back in Providence, my absolute favorite was the lovely Coffee Exchange<\/a>. Returning to California, I immediately began the quest for a decent Long Beach roaster.<\/p>\n First, I found a neighborhood coffee house, Portfolio. Not a roaster. But a nice place to meet people. I also found Makai, a bit farther from home, and small enough that it isn\u2019t always possible to get a seat, but which I find even more congenial. <\/p>\n But, I needed a roaster. And thanks to the google machine found there were two not very far from our condo. That was when I first discovered I am nowhere near the snob I thought I was. I wandered into the first, which shall remain nameless. It appears to be a converted bar. Dark. No customers as I could see. But as I went up to the counter I saw a small display featuring maybe six small bags. The young person behind the counter was clearly offended when I asked after a dark roast. I thought maybe she believed I\u2019d asked for a pile of horse manure for my garden. And frankly, the whole thing went downhill from there. I left without coffee and with a haunting sense the world had passed me by when I wasn\u2019t looking. I went to another of the roasters. The young person was nicer, a lot nicer, but still no beans dark enough for my tastebuds. <\/p>\n I was bereft. <\/p>\n Fortunately I found a fancy dancy grocery that made a big deal out of carrying Peets and keeping up with relatively recent roasting dates.<\/p>\n I was trying to resign myself to my sad fate. Until, that is, Jan and I were driving down Second street and we saw it.<\/p>\n