The Cold Coffee Conundrum

I was just discussing the topic of cold coffee with another mother-artist friend of mine and had to come home and write this. We were talking about multitasking and motherhood and writing and reflected that this is a time in our life when we don't get enough time to sit down to finish a cup of coffee (the baby fusses in the carseat as I write this - which means I won't finish this post either) while it's warm.

And it occurred to me that I've gone one step further.  I've gone so far down the rabbit-hole of cold coffee as to actually notice the occasions in which I get to drink it hot and miss the fact that every day is cold coffee day. Times when I drink coffee hot:  1).  Church social hour. 2). Waiting rooms when something bad happens. 3). When my husband brings me Starbucks. 4). At 5:45 am to prep for my early morning composition course. And finally 5). When I was in the hospital alone with the newborn and the rest of the family was at home (note the past tense used there: I will not be enjoying this time again, so I look back upon it whistfully, despite or perhaps because of the percocet).

There was a time in my life when I drank my coffee in peace - and hot.  At one point, I was a full-on coffee snob with a dedicated ritual of grinding, sniffing, brewing, sniffing some more, and then, at last, drinking my delightful coffee just at the edge of "too hot".  I started adding cream and or milk right about then - just to take the fresh-brewed mouth-searing-nature away and replace it with warm (and did you know this: coffee with cream stays warm longer than coffee without cream!), deliciousness. If it got cold - or my guest's coffee got cold, I'd offer a "warm up" or a "top off" to bring back the heat.

I once read that in a study, coffee drinkers can identify the difference in sound between the pouring of hot coffee and the pouring of cold coffee.  I was amazed, first of all, that anyone considered researching the distinction -- but secondly that anyone had the time to care, because by the time I read the study, I was a parent.

As a parent, I no longer practice my sweet coffee-shop-snob ritual of coffee brewing.  Instead, I rush into the kitchen to the sounds of Can I have another waffle screamed over the baby crying, grab the coffee carafe, with coffee in it from yesterday or the day before that or the day before that, pour it into a pint glass, add a splash of milk (that I've grabbed from behind 3 pumped bottles, a half jar of strawberry jelly that dribbled its contents all over, and a beer that I wish I were drinking but it's before noon so not. quite. yet.) and run to tend other people, my coffee the neglected in this scenario. Or, if I shake the carafe and it's empty (which happens every day or two depending on the sleep I got the night before), I'm running to grab the baby, measuring out Folgers in my right hand while I bounce the baby in the left, saying sssshhhhh, it's okay it's okay it's okay please let mommy get her coffee while counting scoops in my head, and then standing over the pot whispering come on come on come on as it slowly dribbles along, clueless as to my addicted plight. 

I guess we've identified a 6th time when I get hot coffee:  the moment as it's brewing that I pull the pot out with it's 2 inches of jet fuel in it, pour that into a cup, splash in some milk (leftover, of course, from the kids' breakfast, most likely), and take a gulp which is nearly always followed by the feeling that 1) Folgers is coffee's satanic brother and 2) hot coffee is HOT.

Just in the past month, it occurred to me that if I put the coffee in the carafe while it's still warm - it might stay warm, and I've begun doing so - even heating the carafe up ahead of time with a fill-up of piping hot water.  This keeps my carafed coffee hot for well over 24 hours (good carafe, Walmart. Thank you!) and yet does nothing for the cup - which will be poured and lost on any variety of flat surfaces while I chase the children around (children who seem to wake up with the energy it takes 6 cups for me to have. I swear, is there a LaMarzocco in their bathroom?  And if there is, why the frak did we give it to CHILDREN?).

As I write this, I spy three cups - most likely filled with some version of lukewarm to ice-cold coffee.  My father wonders why I drink iced-coffee in the summer.  Silly man. Meanwhile, my friend today proved her genius:  she explained that she only drinks coffee out of thermos cups, as they keep it warm until she needs it. A working solution to the cold coffee conundrum.

I could kiss her.