Coffee makes us severe, and grave, and philosophical.

Coffee has been a love interest of mine for many, many years, but it wasn’t until my first trip to Italy that I truly discovered how rich and divine a beverage these beans can yield.

Upon waking for breakfast my first day in Venice, I was served a steaming pitcher filled with espresso and a second with steamed milk. My own fault, really, because I wanted coffee, asked for caffè and then, fearing that it wouldn’t come with milk, followed it up with an “uh… latte“. Little did I know that what I was getting was actually what they always serve and so not out of the ordinary at all.

Back in the early 90’s I had a guilty pleasure - yes I was only a young kid - of drinking a Maxwell House product called Cappio. It was a ready-to-drink iced cappucino beverage sold in supermarkets which came in a curiously large, brown tinted glass bottle that looked oddly like a “40“. Purchasing this coffee beverage when I was a mere fifteen years old was always a hoot because the cashiers invariably wanted to card me. I had to politely explain to them that it was coffee, not alcohol.

In fact, so strikingly similar to a large bottle of beer was this beverage that one time, during my daily “supermarket-to-library-to-park to read” routine I was approached by one of the most polite and unusual gentleman I’ve encountered. “Excuse me,” he said. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I couldn’t help but notice that you’re drinking a beer. I’m an alcoholic and was wondering if you’d be so kind as to share.” After just as politely informing him that it was coffee I was drinking, not beer, he continued by saying “so sorry to bother you. Have a good day.” Whereupon he casually walked off. True story. That’s Massachusetts for you…

Located on the main pedestrian thoroughfare in coffee-centric Burlington, VT, Uncommon Grounds offers some of the best and most fresh coffee in town.

With a very wide selection of beans from most of the coffee growing countries stored right in their burlap bags in bulk in the store, they regularly roast in-house to assure the freshest cup. For people who like to watch the roasting action, the roaster is located immediately inside the entrance (don’t touch!) and roasting occurs in the late-afternoon to evening hours, filling the store (and street) with the pleasant smell of fresh coffee.

They offer each day, in addition to a moderately dark house roast, four or five brewed selections from their wide array of beans. Usually comprised of a daily roast, a decaf and a flavored caffeinated and decaf coffee, each different. For those that can’t decide between a cup of the house or the daily roast, they display in large print a detailed description of the day’s roast, from body and acidity to more creatively descriptive elements that you’d fine in finer reviews.

In a nod to my good friend Cliff over at spiralbound.net, I here share a story picked up via the Associated Press entitled Washington Official Held in Coffee Mug Attack.

Fire commissioners Allen Yanity and Jim Bosch – both of Lakebay, Washington and aged 71 and 64, respectively – are in the midst of a year-long feud wherein Yanity has accused Bosch of extortion and attempting to force him off the commission, while Bosch has accused Yanity of harassment and intimidation.

Standing with their wives during a break at a local meeting, threats and insults were exchanged and, fearing physical violence upon his wife from an arm-raising Bosch, Yanity stepped in and cracked him on the head with a coffee mug.

Bosch was brought to a local hospital, where staples were used to close the wound on his head.

Cold Mountain Cafe, Bethlehem, NH

Those who have read any of my other reviews have by now discovered that I have a penchant for finding out-of-the-way cafes in obscure backwaters that often function as a beacon of light in the middle of nowhere. Cold Mountain Cafe is no exception to this rule.

Bethlehem, NH is a strange little place. Nestled in the White Mountains of the granite state, most visitors are so as a result of happenstance. You see, Bethlehem is “on the way” to some great New Hampshire skiing; but unless you’re a local, an Orthodox Jew or have come for the low pollen count or hordes of antique stores with hours as odd as their owners, there’s really no reason to be in this northern New Hampshire town. Robert Frost once wrote of the area’s “pang…that makes poetry”. It’s a lonely, obscure little place.