Coffee!?

The Arabica Mocha Sunani (sp?) is also great, it is also one of their most expensive. $14 a pound I think.

Coffee Candy Review

Pocket coffee:This candy starts out with a carmelized sugar pocket for a sweet espresso liquid. The carmelized sugar is coated with European milk chocolate. The manufacturer (Fererro) claims that eating three pieces is equivalent to a shot of espresso, and I have to admit that I got a buzz off of the candy. I brought it in to work to share with co-workers. They loved it and asked for more.Review: Fantastic!


Coffee Rio: The consistency of this candy is similar to chewy caramel. It sticks to your molars, and tastes like a cup of coffee with lots of cream and sugar. This candy can be purchased by the bag at specialty grocery stores.Review: Very Good

Rademaker's Hopjes: This is a little hard candy from Holland. It's pretty tasty. The coffee flavor is evenly distributed throughout the candy and it tastes a little like a Frappuccino. Getting this candy can be a little tricky, I stumbled upon it at a local coffee shop.Review: Good

Brach's Coffee Candy: This hard candy smells like coffee and is colored like a cup of weak coffee, but it tastes absolutely nothing like coffee. This candy is gross, I spit it out before finishing the piece. You can find this candy at your local supermarket in the Brach's bulk candy display. Review: Yucky

Rocket Chocolate: This candy is marketed "for adults only" and claims to boost like a cup of coffee. It has a gunk-filled center surrounded by low-grade chocolate. It's lousy; stay away from this brand. Trust me, you don't want to try this candy, so locating it shouldn't be a concern. Review: Horrible

Have a cup of coffee while you prepare these delicious coffee rum balls.

Mocha Rum Balls


INGREDIENTS:
1/4 cup freeze dried coffee
1/4 cup rum
1 tablespoon water
2 tablespoons cocoa
2 cups vanilla wafer crumbs
3 cups confectioners' sugar, divided
1 cup chopped nuts
3 tablespoons light corn syrup
dash salt

PREPARATION:
In a mixing bowl, dissolve coffee in rum and water; add cocoa, vanilla wafer crumbs, 2 cups of confectioners' sugar, chopped nuts, and corn syrup; mix well. Sift remaining 1 cup confectioners' sugar onto waxed paper. Measure mocha ball mixture in teaspoonfuls; roll into small balls. Roll in the sifted confectioner's sugar. Store in tightly covered container for several days to bring flavor out.
Makes about 4 dozen.

Antiques



Coffee Roasters









And more:
http://www.gardfoods.com/coffee/coffee.roasters.htm

I was taught the following, infallible method of making coffee by an Italian priest who had spent 20 years in a monastery:

use one of those steel/aluminium coffee pots you can put of the stove - water in the lower half so that is forced upwards through the coffee into the top half reservoir.

use freshly ground coffee beans

as the two teaspoons of coffee perc through into the reservoir, remove from the heat and pour the small amount of coffee into a cup

put the pot back on the heat and let it continue to brew

add two or three spoons of sugar to the small amount of coffee in the cup. Mix to a thick, but runny paste.

When the coffee in the pot has brewed, pour into expresso cups and add a spoon of the sugary paste to each cup, floating it on the surface.

drink!

The best wake-me-up coffee-blast I've found.

Antiques continued.



MAXWELL HOUSE COFFEE CUP, signed N/R


Antique Coffee Mill / Grinder


Antique motel coffee maker courtesy coffee tepco china


Antique BrassTurkish Coffee Grinder/Pepper Mill


Pennsylvania Dutch coffee urn, missing the lid.


Set of 3 Vintage Coffee Cans >Folgers*Sanka*LaTouraine


2 ANTIQUE 1800's "HANLEY" W&W Coffee


METAL SIGN ADVERTISING ''FRESH HOT COFFEE''

Coffee Antiques
http://www.peterlarsenskaffe.dk/page.php?emne_id=127

Hmmm, I have ceramic cups that match that pennsylvania dutch coffee urn from a friend raised in Sweden... she said they are swedish. (I can't tell, myself.)

Umm, did you say something??



Finding it hard to keep my concentration on the conversation....

Perhaps I need a COFFEE LIFT!!!

I can't tell either osso, maybe it's still in ebay.

oooohhhhh, this is a good thread!

Thanks Littlek

the writing on the urn is Swedish

Coffee short story.
Coffee Short Story

The Curse of The Coffees
Jane FitzGerald


He'd been working too hard, he was sure of it when he looked over the bar and saw her come in. The daylight streamed in behind her as she opened the door and Mike Coffee thought he'd never seen anyone so beautiful, so perfect, so...not quite real! He couldn't take his eyes off her as she looked around the room for a table, selected one and glided into a chair. Her hair was a little more blonde than red and her eyes were as blue as the heavens.


It was early and Ruthie, Mike's part-time employee wouldn't be in until after her day job, so he sidled out from behind the bar and grabbed a menu.


"Welcome to Coffee's."


"Thank you" was all she said as she took the menu and smiled. But "Thank you" was enough to betray a brogue.


"All we have this time of day are coffee and soda" he heard himself say. He felt as though he were in a trance, somewhere else, but here at the same time. Wherever he was he was clumsy and inarticulate. "Or, the stronger stuff, of course."


She smiled up at him. "Just coffee, please. Black."


Mike fetched the coffee pot and managed to pour and serve her without spilling. Her eyes followed him the whole while and when he returned, she put her elbows on the table, cupped her face in her hands and asked where everyone was.


"We don't get a lot of customers this time of day" Mike answered. "We don't get as many as I'd like at any time of day" he added, wondering why he'd admitted that out loud.


"What's the problem?" she asked.


"That's what I've been trying to figure out." He wasn't in awe of her any longer. Somehow he felt completely comfortable and wanted to tell her everything about his struggle with the café and bar.


"Hey, what brought you in?" he asked.


"I wanted coffee."


"Did you know this was a pub, too?" He was having an identity crises here. He needed help. He needed sleep and he needed help.


"All I knew was I saw the word coffee," she shrugged. If they were going to talk, she thought he'd be more comfortable sitting. "Join me?"


Mike sat down opposite her, happy to sit. Happy to talk.


"You have a lovely accent. Where are you from?"


"Ireland. I'm here traveling...mm, visiting."


"Visiting who?" He didn't know why he asked it.


"It's your story I want to hear. Tell me about your pub."


"Well, I always dreamed of owning a bar. I bought this place and ordered that big sign out there, but they kind of screwed it up and left off the apostrophe, so instead of reading C-O-F-F-E-E apostrophe S, it just reads COFFEES. People got confused. They'd show up on their way TO work, instead of AFTER. So I thought I'd get twice the business and started opening early and selling coffee and scones. The people who'd come in the morning would find out we're open late as a pub, but they're not coming back at night. We have a few regulars, but not it's not what I dreamed it would be."


"How long have you been in business?"


"Five months. Five very long months. I'm here at 6 a.m. and leave at 2 a.m. I'm working my butt off for a handful of customers and barely making enough to keep the doors open."


"It's the curse of the Coffee's." She said it as if it were common knowledge, like the time of day.


"The curse of the Coffee's... is that what you said?"


"You're a Coffee...your family has a very colorful history...goes back thousands of years. The original name was O'Cobhthaigh, or O'Coffee as you would say it. Have you never traced your family history?"


"Not really. How do you know about the Coffee's?"


"We're from the same county...Tipperary. Coffee's a well known name there, and so's the curse. The tale is told about Dermot O'Coffee who was a strong man and a hard worker, though not skilled in any trade. The townspeople of Carrick-on-Sur commissioned a clock to be made ? in England, I think, but it was to be assembled by the locals. Dermot showed up bright and early the day the clock face arrived. Stones had been collected from the farms all around, and Dermot was helping to stack them for a base for the clock. he sun had not risen completely above the horizon when the clock was wheeled into town centre on a horse-drawn cart by travelers. The traveler men went to lift the clock off the cart, but Dermot, being a proud man and proud of his town too, he said that it should be a Carrick man who placed the clock. The travelers took it that they were being scorned and started to drive that cart away, clock and all. Well, Dermot set off like a shot and stopped that wagon by grabbing the horse which spooked and set the wagon off its wheels. The clock tumbled out and fell in the road. It was a miracle it didn't break. But Dermot and the travelers stood looking and one another and then looking at the clock and then at one another again as if to dare any man to be the first to move. It was Dermot O'Coffee who moved first, and with the iron will that matched his brawn, picked up the clock and put it in its place for all the town to see. The travelers told him ?'Don't think by placing a clock that time favors you, Dermot O'Coffee, because from this day forward, you and yours will work from the first sun through the night, without a coin to reward you.' The curse stuck. Dermot did all sorts of odd jobs for everyone in town and he and his wife and sons survived only through the kindness of his neighbors who shared in providing them food and cast-away garments." He died young and penniless. His sons eventually moved away to find work, but stories are told that they met similar strife."


Mike sat silent for a moment. "So I'm doomed?"


"'Tis only a story. Yours might have a better ending than Dermot's."


"Who ARE you?" Mike suddenly asked. "You show up when the place is empty and know more about my family than I do! What's going on?"


She sipped the last of her coffee and stood up. "Just someone who likes coffee and has a few stories to share. What do I owe you?"


She rose with total grace and dignity and a certain air that let him know he knew he wasn't going to get any more out of her.


He stood as well. "Skip it; it's on the house."


She smiled and nodded her head in appreciation. As she opened the door to leave she said, "a generous kindness from a man who can't earn enough for all his time spent."


She closed the door and Mike felt a chill. He busied himself with setting up for Happy Hour. At least he was always ready for a real happy hour, whether they came or not.


A little after 4 o'clock Ruthie breezed in, full of excitement, opening the mail. Ruthie handed Mike a brochure of a place that looked like the kind of Irish Pub he'd always wanted. "Look, Mike, this place is a real coffee-bar, you know, with all different kinds of coffee drinks, laced with with spirits and topped with whipped cream and liqueurs and stuff. Look at the coffee drinks they offer."


Mike looked at the list Ruthie pointed at. A couple dozen hot coffee drinks, laced with all sorts of spirits and combinations...Amaretto Au Lait, Black Russian, Caribbean Cream, and three variations on Irish Coffee. We can do this he thought, when his eyes drifted to the brochure's picture of patrons bar sitting at the bar. There she was! The Irish beauty who'd been sitting in his bar earlier. She was in the picture on this brochure!


Ruthie handed him a piece of plain white paper. "This was in the envelope with the brochure."


Mike took the paper and read "Dermot knew only how to work. You know how to dream. The curse is lifted." It was signed, "Your traveler."


Ruthie slipped behind the bar to practice making a few coffee drinks. "Hey, boss, you want to try one?"


Mike leaned against the bar and steadied himself. He couldn't make any sense out of it all. Had he imagined all this? Who had she been really? Surely it wasn't really someone showing up to end an ancient feud and call off a curse. Did he believe in curses anyway? He held his head.


"Mike, you want a coffee?"


"Yeah, Ruthie. Make it an Irish."

Another coffee short story.

Like Madness With Coffee
By Melissa A Swaim

first chapter


I was told my favorite waitress was gone. Why should I care? She was just a cute, blonde service worker- a dime a dozen- though I admit; I enjoyed checking out those long legs gently hugged by black shorts. And I got amused by the way she tilted her sweet head my way before bending over to sweep away crumbs from the floor near my table. That was the reason I gulped down one cup of coffee after another. I couldn't look away, and she knew it. She blushed whenever she caught me eyeing the tight material gripping between her legs, but her smile told me that she forgave me. They say she is gone. That shouldn't affect me. Should it?
The Gourmet-to-Go is a friendly place in a forgettable part of Norfolk. Minus the coffee, it could easily be listed in the top ten for affordable good food. That's why a lot of business folks stop in for lunch. They get hooked on either the Santa Fe Chicken or the southern hospitality, which some say could mend the broken egos in this tough but vibrant city. I don't know much about that. I drop by because my delivery route takes me through this dull neighborhood of trailer parks and aging stores. A renewal effort is underway, especially with the opening of shops like the Gourmet-to-Go. I'm not sure what it is, but there's something charming about that pumpkin-colored bistro. I can't get it out of mind. There's something about that waitress.
I tried not to think about her. I just sipped my coffee and glanced at the staff scurrying behind the counter. She wasn't there. I heard she's taking time off. I don't know if she's coming back.
It's empty without her; I don't know why. The other employees are pretty entertaining, especially Stephanie and Nadine. Nadine was chatting with the regulars by the cash register. Loud and full of life, this ex-New Yorker put on a show during lunch. The customers got a kick out of watching her handle the crowd with a boisterous efficiency. When things calmed down, she played a trivia game with them. They all chimed in, trying to guess plots in her soap opera or scenes from tv sitcoms. Laughter erupted over the sounds of clinking dishes and hissing steam, and everyone got lost in the aroma of fresh baking bread. Warm and heavy, it lulled bloated bellies into a temporary nirvana until cheerleader Nadine beckoned for a new game. But tired patrons had to head back to their law firm or the newsroom. Everyone was disappointed.
Wild Stephanie, returning from a long break, called out a sultry, "Bye, baby," as they left. All the men secretly hoped it was directed at them. No one really knows what she does at the Gourmet-to -Go. She perfected the art of appearing busy. Sometimes she cleaned tables. Other times she fussed with her untamed hair or greeted guests with excessive zeal. No one complained.
Way in the back, Milo limped slightly as he fetched forty pounds of raw chicken for the chef. Chef Connie never paid much attention to the staff except to occasionally shake her head. Her cooking was her craft, each delicacy a piece of her self-esteem. Warmth radiated from her round and sunny face. She enjoyed this place more than she allowed us to believe.
There were a few others. They all make me feel welcome. So what is it about that waitress? What made her different? I know little about her. Her name is Drema Avalon. Her features are delicate and softly framed by honey-blonde hair. Large, cautious eyes peer with a sense of mystery. She pours out her soul like the statue of a neglected angel standing in the center of a fountain. She wants to reach out, but she can't. She stays there as if waiting for someone. I can't let it be me. When I sit near her, I'm flooded by her emotion and it's too deep. She is unknowable. Maybe I'm just afraid to know.
I fear something about her as if one kiss would destroy the sane routine that makes me who I think I am. Part of me wants to give up, to stay in her world forever and to discover a new version of "me." The other part knows I can't.
Suddenly I glance up and found tomboy Nadine stepping toward me. Her smile was knowing; her stare found me guilty of some yet unrevealed crime. Something in her tough New York ways understood and she gently patted me on the shoulder.
"I have something for you," she said in her noticeable accent. Like most of Norfolk's residents, she was brought south due to Military life, normally a lonely and broken existence. I know a little about that. Most of us here do.
She refilled my coffee with one hand and snuck something out of her apron pocket with the other. It was just a dull-looking notebook. And I bet the pages were just as morose. "Here," she said, "Drema accidentally left this."
"Maybe she will come back for it," I stiffly told her, thinking it was the right thing to say. I nearly burned myself on the tasteless coffee. I didn't need whatever the tattered notebook contained or what it could possibly mean.
Nadine shook her fuzzy head in disappointment and playfully shoved me.
"Come on, you jerk," she teased, "I only read a few pages. It's all I had time for and, from what I read; it would be a serious mistake if you didn't read it right now!"
No one disagrees with Nadine unless you are prepared to take on her sharp wit and her equally sharp claws, so I accepted the worn journal, almost afraid of what I might find, though peeking into her mind was way too tempting. I casually flipped through, scanned some uninteresting passages and noticed some rattled my senses. I quickly shut it.
Gathering my things, I shoved the journal into the briefcase and rose unable to look at anyone.I handed her a ten dollar tip.
"Thanks," I nervously told her, "I'll see you later."
What have I done? She was just a waitress, someone I thought I could toy with …until now, but I'll never be the same again. All I knew was that I must somehow find her.

The Mayonnaise Jar and Two Cups of Coffee

Remember to take care of the golf balls first in your life. They are the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is all just sand.




The Mayonnaise Jar and Two Cups of Coffee
           
When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the two cups of coffee.

 ============================= 
 
A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.


He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.


The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The
pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.


The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes".


The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, " I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.


The golf balls are the important things in life. Your God, your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite
passions: things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.


The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, and your car.


The sand is everything else: the small stuff.


"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.



Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean house and fix the disposal.


Take care  of the golf balls first; the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend." 

I found out who the author is:

by: Laura Bankston
Location: Anchorage, Alaska, United States

Laura Bankston is author of Internationally selling Cooking with Kids Curriculum: Homeschool Cooking in a Box and the Homeschool Cookbook. She currently home schools her three children, maintains home school support websites, and manages their family-owned service business. For information on her curriculum and free home school support services, please visit:

http://www.homeschoolcookbook.com

http://www.homeschoolcookbook.com/2004/10/mayonnaise-jar-and-two-cups-of-coffee.html