I’m not a coffee drinker. I’ve never liked the taste. And unlike the way I approached beer and wine in college, I never bothered to acquire a taste for coffee. Consequently, I’ve always sought rebellion in the form of tea. Badass, I know.
Until last week, when I started drinking coffee at age 31.
My gateway drug was, (un)surprisingly, an espresso martini.
Ok, fine. Several espresso martinis.
Wide-eyed and wide awake... #espressomartinis
We had arrived in London that morning, it was pushing 9pm, and I was fighting off jetlag in a dark basement bar. The struggle was real.
But the espresso martinis were delicious, and exactly what I needed. I proclaimed to my friends and our waiter, “I’m going to start drinking espressos!”
The next morning, I discovered that espresso doesn’t taste the same without the vodka. Actually, espresso on its own was quite strong and bitter. Thus began a coffee sampling quest across multiple cafes in multiple European cities to find my caffeinated beverage of choice.
Cappuccino versus Americano in Venice... #cappuccinoforthewin
Ultimately, I landed on cappuccinos (and their cousins, iced lattes). And fortunately for me, our Eurotrip took us to Italy later that week, where the cappuccinos flowed freely and flavorfully.
I also learned that part of the fun of being a coffee drinker is the discovery of new places to enjoy drinking it. I was able to explore Rome and Venice with a new activity to help me soak up the culture while trying something that the country of Italy is known for. Sitting at a "table for one" is not typically my forté, but I had found a new excuse for people-watching and a new way to observe the the sights around me… cappuccino in hand.
When in Rome...
-JS
Home, sweet home: broke the news to the local baristas upon my return.