On Ramadan And Coffee

Coffee. The rich aroma, the bitter taste sweet to the tongue. The act of mapping out the procedure, the memory of savouring  the flavour. Closely monitoring the water temperature to make it 'just right' for the delicate coffee granules [instant, of course!]. Taking a sip and just relishing the ‘feel’…oh! *tickling taste buds*.

I'm the only coffee-drinker in the family, and my parents can't for the life of them figure why the taste for such a bitter liquid? Baba's always like, 'Alishba, fresh, plain boiled milk is good for kids, coffee is not!' and trying to convince me out of it every time he sees me with a cuppa. Mama's divided, which helps out sometimes. But when have I listened to what's being told me before? So ergo, coffee time!

Sehri is a hectic time. Mama's voice is the only sound to be heard above our varied frequency *snores*.

* 'Wake up, hurry!' 'Have you even LOOKED at the time? It's about to be Fajr!' [umm, closed eyes and snoring mouths don't really register time, do they?]

'This is the LAST <emphasis> time I'm calling you guys! I'm not coming in again!' [1min later, back to the * ]. 

Loop till one of us heads groggily to the bathroom - and you get a picture of our too-early-in-the-morning meal.

Figuring in milk, let alone coffee, is a job in itself considering the short span of time before Fajr. But na-an, Mama's watching, NO-ONE dare skip their milk. No amount of reasoning, excusing, coercing works where 'milk' is concerned. So yes, be the nice kids and drink it up in three gulps 'شا باش !'.

Mama kept strict tabs on my coffee consumption during school days. But since I've gone to university, to her remorse she can do this only in the abstract sense, from a distance of many miles. Any Skype conversation usually raises the question, 'Just one cup a day, half teaspoon, right Alishba?'; and taking note of this particular question, 'Oh mama, there's a problem with the internet connection right now, WHAT did you ask again? Too much static, ugh!' is roughly my reply.

Now I've come up to 2 cups daily. And I've simply GOT to have at least one a day. Otherwise, it feels horrible, like something important is 'missing', a stimulation my taste buds are craving...but where is it? Maybe this is what it feels like to be 'addicted'? Get me my cuppa!

Now the magic formula: milk + coffee = latte. Not really coffee, the die-hard fan might say. Plus I use the instant variety, the silly ol' saucepan in the kitchen with a lid, and the connoisseur is justified in wrinkling up his nose. It’s a good thing mama's neither, so now I've discovered an, umm, trick, you might say.*shhh* I now simply microwave the off-course-boiled milk, and spoon in some instant. There's simply no time to go through the 'real' process, no time to take the first sip and savour the taste as the liquid sloshes around in my mouth. No time to frother the milk to be added, no time to take out my special cup + saucer. Rush it up, gulp it down. Hardly a satiating experience. But it's still coffee, isn't it? And just knowing I've had it is a wonderful feeling by itself. And given it's Ramadan and Sehri time, and throwing in the watchful gaze of mama, I guess it's worth it.

So till the ‘hurrah’ formula becomes obsolete and is succeeded by an upgrade, this is the way I can sneak my 'addiction' in. And as waking up earlier is the precursor to a formula upgrade, and so not an option for a sleeper like me, you can rest assured mama, I'll still be having that full cup of milk.

Maybe now you can figure the odd combination of Ramadan and pre-dawn coffee?

coffee beans...my lifeline!