Tantric espresso

Some things in life are meant to be fast: burgers; putting up camp beds; taking a shower; sex. Other things are meant to be slow: a massage; a bath; espresso coffee. I've been complaining to my wife recently about how I no longer get time to enjoy my morning coffee; I’m always being interrupted to deal with school clothes, the washing up, or the dog’s bottom (long fur, short attention span; you do the maths).
‘An espresso is meant to be sipped slowly and it’s heavenly aroma and taste savoured,’ I shouted over James Naughtie as I pulled my daughter’s school jersey down over her head, and scraped breakfast cereal into the bin from her bowl, ‘and I’m gulping mine down like a camel at an oasis’.
‘It’s called espresso, darling,’ she responded as she shoved the dinner into lower oven of the Aga and began vacuuming the stairs, ‘because it means quick – express!’
I thought about this all day and I determined that the pressure of life was not going to spoil my caffeine intake any longer; from now on, I would take things more slowly – starting with my coffee. The problem is that the amount of coffee you get in an espresso is pretty small. It’s hard to see how you can make 25ml of liquid last a long time (although my daughter manages to stretch 5ml of cough mixture out for hours, so it’s clearly possible). That’s when it hit me. It’s not just about the drinking; it’s about the whole process.

"Like any good junky, you have your drug-taking paraphernalia: spoon, demitasse, sugar and coffee, and whatever it is you make it in"

Anticipate your coffee; think of the aroma; the deep, dark depths of the coffee; the contrast with the crema. Titillate yourself a little by sniffing at an open can of your favourite beans; imagine the moment when the coffee touches your lip, slips down your throat. At first you might find this is all too much; perhaps your partner can help? When she sees you with that look in your eyes that says you’re about to grab your Gaggia, she can try to divert you with unrelated conversation such as ‘Darling, I thought you were going to drop the car in Castle Cary today for its service?’ or, ‘That lawn won’t mow itself, Darling’.
Now make the coffee. Like any good junky, you have your drug-taking paraphernalia; spoon, demitasse, sugar and coffee, and whatever it is you make it in. Lay them out on the work surface before you. Warm the cup; spoon the coffee into the percolator; place the percolator on the hob. Enjoy the bubbling sound as the coffee rises into the top of the percolator; spoon in the sugar. There’s no rush; pace yourself.

"Titillate yourself a little by sniffing at an open can of your favourite beans"

Finally, drink it. I like to sit outside on the patio; kids at school; wife at work; me busily scribbling away at the computer all morning, and now ready for an indulgent break. If you have no patio, stand at the window and watch the rest of the world rush by in their pell-mell stampede to their early graves. Tip the cup slowly to your lips and sip.
While the warm after-glow of coffee is still on you, wash your cup; put away the coffee can; start anticipating your next coffee.
Tantric espresso is elusive, but worth striving for.