Doin’ Drugs… Part 1

14 09 2012

There’s something about making a home pumpkin latte that makes me feel ever so slightly illegal.

First, you gotta get the stuff. And it has to be good stuff, Fair Trade Certified, Organic – in this case, Annapolis Valley Pumpkin Spice.

Then you need to grind it, fresh, until it screams for mercy and releases all the wonderful coffee/pumpkin/spice smell. When the grind is just right, you get out your specialized equipment, a good quality but not excessively so, as you are not THAT kind of person, given to obnoxiousness in personal belongings, happy to settle for the Honda over the Maserati, function over form and all that.

You take your ground up stuff, and carefully put it into the holder, tamping it down just so. Then it’s time to let the water bubble through it, while you inhale the atmosphere, getting faintly buzzed on the caffeine flowing around your nostrils, straight to your brain. Time for bubbling the milk – held at the perfect angle to first warm, then push air through it until it forms a perfect head. Pour it on top of the black liquor, and sip.

I do mine a double shot, no sugar, just milk. By accident, I bought 1% milk instead of skim and I tell you, it makes a difference that is almost sinful. The foam is creamy and thick, the bubbles behave, and the taste is better. The pumpkin flavour is subtle and not sweet, spicy enough without being overwhelming.

I find myself thinking about it all day, as fall creeps in around the edges. The taste is best now, in apple and pumpkin time, when the chill of first frost hovers. When I run out, I feel a nervous need to get more. Soon. Mornings simply aren’t the same.

I think I’m addicted.




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