My tryst with coffee
Coffee is the drink with which I have grown. It's the specific pure peaberry variety raw beans which my father used to get home from the nearest mofussil headquarters every month when he went to collect his salary. They were roasted to perfection on a pan by my mother and grounded manually filling the house with the coffee aroma. Daily in the morning as we sat around the charcoal stove where the filter was set and the coffee was being prepared, my earlier day performance and behaviour were reviewed by my father who also was my school headmaster. W hen I went to the houses of others in the village, the coffee used to be invariably chicory blended Brooke Bond coffee. Though I did not particularly like the taste of chicory blended coffee, others used to drink and like it but the chicory always gave the coffee very deep and peculiar colour and taste. I know those who are used to chicory blended coffee can never relish pure coffee and vice versa. In any c...