340 meters per second

Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement.

&mdash Alfred Adler (1870-1937)

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Stop and smell the Coffea Arabica

To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, an espresso is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?

There's nothing like a good-quality, well-shot espresso savoured late on a Sunday morning when I don't have to actually be anywhere. Don't get me wrong: an impatient doppio quickly quaffed at 7:30 AM on a Wednesday has its own charms. There's a certain appeal to the brisk functionality of the process, the science of caffeine metabolism and the ritualistic nature of the whole process: filter water, fill container, begin heating, select cup, get coffee from fridge, measure out grounds, tamp, fill cup with hot water to heat the ceramic, etc. ...

Still, one type of pleasure is of the thing itself (espresso qua espresso) and the other is of the thing as mechanism. There's enough of a hedonist in me to prefer the former to the latter. Believe it or not, I'm not really a coffee geek (yet); but I thought it was worth lingering over a perfect pleasure on an otherwise busy weekend.


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