Emblematic title...
But also hot, indeed boiling like the cup of that black drink, rich in culture and deep in pleasure. Black yes, like my mood when I drink it in the 'worst versions'. And then weak, like the cream that disappears drowning itself in the bottom of the cup. Watered down, like the brain of the hand that brewed my coffee. Burnt out, like the possibility of growth in that café. Nuance-less, like the person behind the counter. Without depth, like his soul. Without power, like his will.
And these, unfortunately, are not the lines of a cursed poet's poem, but what happens very often when I want to drink a coffee, a simple coffee. Perhaps, it is precisely this widespread simplistic view in approaching a world so rich in culture and values that easily distorts the reality of things.
And it happens even in places where expectations are high, not so much because of my pretensions, but because of how some establishments are sold: research and design, communication and image and blah blah blah...
If it happens at the coffee shop, it happens at the restaurant, even in those where the menu prefers a credit card! It seems commonplace to think of everything, even in those environments aged more by marketing than by time, to take care of every aspect, to rightly emphasize strengths, to shriek menus and wine lists, to parade with carts of fine spirits and ... forget about coffee. I mean: not that there isn't any; in fact, the question "coffee?" is a must! It's just that the routine of consuming it at the end of a meal has made it lose its value and even more so its taste.
And so you see machines in the hands of drivers without licenses, grinders oozing grease and dust, and even when cleanliness seems to be there, because showers, filters and filter holders are always at the mercy of the improviser on duty, there the beans are violently transformed into a black liquid, without ifs and buts, without any reason, logic or care, without any control, but with the arrogant presumption of serving an espresso where of espresso there is only the quick and mistaken interpretation of the noble coffee.
And so, I understand why it is called coffee killing, because with what they are foisting on you one has to drink something that cleans the mouth and drives away as much as possible the worst memory one can take home, whether it is after a break, after a dinner or simply after the moment of pleasure one wants to indulge in.
And that is where I grasp the concept!
Killing (the) coffee is not an offer, an invitation, but an imperative! And at that point the distillate acts as the executioner decapitating the now agonizing coffee as my palate...
credit. image source: from the net