I favor Monday morning coffee on the stoop. I love the way the chilled cement feels underneath my toes, the way the heat of the cup warms the palm of my hand, and the way the slow sip—as to not burn my tongue—forces me to look up. As the greatest gift of all, this slow coffee routine allows me to speak to my neighbors, not distractingly, for fear of my children running into the street; but true connection is found in my stoop morning coffee. I say hello, they say hello. We slow down and take stock and acknowledge presence of life—a stranger or our neighbors. We step outside of our own being for a bit. It’s comparable to the way I have to burn palo santo every morning; or always play music while I'm making dinner. A slow morning ritual, my coffee, is engrained in my being, possibly a routine from my childhood still flowing out from me into my children’s lives. I’m making these moments a part of our shared story.
White Tale Coffee and there is a strong possibility I've graduated to coffee snobbery because it’s that good. If you haven't heard of White Tale Coffee, it is a subscription coffee service sent to your front door. However much you want, when you want, whatever kind you want. With White Tale, it's not just a flavor thing; it's a values thing: the bean, the soil, the farm, and the farmers. It’s about the story behind the cup. Which becomes part of my story as I sip. It’s about things that matter, wherever you are in the world, even if your day starts off sitting and sipping on some stoop in Brooklyn.
And what good is a coffee post without saying how I like my coffee: Made with a Chemed, and usually hot—unless it's above 85 degrees out.)
White Tale coffee was a gift, but all opinions and coffee snobbery are of my own. My dress is Ace & Jig and my hat is vintage (similar woven hats here).