Sunday Coffee

Lately I’ve been savoring fresh, hot café au lait in my own kitchen. As a longtime, avid Starbucks fan, I’ve always looked forward to sunny, carefree Sunday mornings hanging out at a local Starbucks with B., enjoying a book or a browse on my tablet, sipping my usual Tall Bold Nonfat Misto.

But with money tight and the fact that the “local” Starbucks is a 20-minute drive  away, we’ve taken to hanging out in our sunny, carefree kitchen. We bought a basic coffeemaker at Target a few months ago and were only occasionally using it, but of late we’ve been putting it through its paces several times a week, and now it’s becoming our Sunday morning ritual.

We don’t get expensive coffee. My mom used to buy the New Orleans staple Café du Monde by the cartload at the local Asian market, and so that’s what we get. It’s less about the French name and more the fact that it tastes better than Folgers (to my indiscriminate taste buds), plus it’s just a happy-looking can.

The coffee is only marginally less rich and flavorful as when I get it at Starbucks (assuming that the barista knows what he’s doing, and that depends on which Starbucks we go to), but the price difference is tremendous, so it’s definitely worth saving the dough. Plus, we’ve discovered that, while Starbucks remains one of our favorite hangouts, the kitchen on a sunny, carefree Sunday morning — we have a big picture window that overlooks our very quiet, tidy neighborhood street — can’t be beat for soothing the restless mind. It makes me want the moment to linger, stretch out into long hours, push back against the chaos that is our usual Monday mornings.

Coffee with a plate of freshly baked cinnamon rolls on the side, and a sparkling glass full of rest to wash it all down with. Bliss.