Espresso Aftercare
“Espresso aftercare. How do you take yours?”
So read the photo caption of me enjoying my aftercare espresso ritual. I received the following responses:
“Black.”
“Bitter.”
“Some orange peel.”
“Caffe doppio.”
I should have asked, "How do you take your aftercare?" Mine is coffee in some form or fashion. A quiet, private, little ritual. The cup's heat warming my hands as I cradle it.
Sharp. Grounding. Soothing. Comforting.
I am a coffee late bloomer—among other things. Coffee was forbidden in my religious home growing up. I first tasted the forbidden fruit (bean) when I was in my late 20s.
My first encounter with coffee was inauspicious—completely vile. I ordered a cup on impulse at a Utah diner. I expect those poor burned coffee grounds were thrown carelessly into a coffee maker and forgotten, the carafe left on a warmer for hours. I drank it with Sweet'N Low. It was dreadful.
Why the hell would anyone pay to drink this? Terrible!
Thank God I gave it another try.
This coffee shop had a reputation. At my friend’s insistence, I decided to try it. If you’re familiar with Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi, you have an idea of this man’s vibe. He was known for his excellent coffee & demand for strict obedience. I was told he would only prepare me a cup if I agreed to certain rules: coffee must sit precisely seven minutes before drinking, no sugar or cream may be added, I must drink it from his porcelain cup, and I must sit at the counter and watch him make it.
I was in.
I will never forget that cup—I tasted apples, almonds, berries. The coffee was surprisingly light in color. It appeared almost like herbal tea. The flavor profile changed as the coffee cooled. It was incredible.
I got it.
Over the years my palate has developed. I’ve grown experimental—pour over, French press, moka pot, siphon coffee. I’ve experimented with roasts from around the world, sometimes adding cinnamon, cayenne pepper, or ginger. I took a coffee class in Mexico City from a professional coffee adjudicator. Subsequent trips to Italy have been full of americanos, espressos, tiramisu, and coffee flavored gelato. I’ve made up for lost time.
Today, my favorite is a long black.
Coffee feels safe, like coming home. I greet the day with it. A calming, soothing ritual—the heat of the cup, the warmth of the drink. I awaken to myself.
It’s not just the increased focus and energy from the caffeine, it’s the whole process—the cup, the heat, boiling the water, curling up on the couch and sipping it slowly.
It’s a daily ritual I engage in religiously.
I also use it to mark endings, transitions, call things to a close—a cup after dessert on a night out, or a scene.
Aftercare—all parties in an encounter need aftercare. I erroneously thought this only applied to those on the right of the slash. I learned this the hard way.
After a 5+ hour session, I left and immediately went to a friend’s backyard BBQ. I hadn’t eaten that day and found myself mindlessly eating chips and pacing around the yard. I realized my nervous system needed a ritual to return me to baseline. Drop is real—on both sides of the slash.
So how do you take yours—aftercare or otherwise? After a scene? A long day at work? A difficult conversation? A party? When you need to center yourself, to ground, to begin, to end, to return home, to wake up—how do you do it?
