10/01/2026
I was a sleepy 16 year old in the 10th grade when I dozed into the school library one morning. There was no one there but myself, the Librarian, about a million books that kids couldn’t care less about, and one stainless steel carafe, labeled “10 cents per cup”. I had never had coffee, but I had watched my dad drink it almost every day of his life. “Just another weird thing old people did”, I thought. Knowing I’d soon need a dose of encouragement to get myself through another one of Mrs. Buchert’s geometry classes I bought the ticket and took the ride. It was love at first cup. The effortless kind. The kind like when you saw your newborn open their little eyes for the first time. I had enough change in my pocket to take this ride around the world and back again. But after four cups I knew I should probably stop.
That was 22 years ago and the only mornings I have had since that didn’t involve coffee, were my bout with covid, and if I happened to be nursing a Winston Churchill level hangover.
Coffee to me has always been a simple act of kindness, one that you do for yourself or even share with a friend. It goes with breakfast, a rainy afternoon, a lazy Sunday, with a book, late night at work.
You can make almost any excuse valid enough to pour yourself a cup, relax and unwind.
Matthew Rodriguez
EMM Sous Chef
