coffee.: espresso, Father Carpenter, Berlin Germany

 

crema me this

 

espresso, The Barn Berlin

the second residence I ever lived in was a fourplex. It was tall with balconies fit for a rapunzel. I was almost five then, I built ant farms and plucked bloomed flowers for the smell of it. I caught bees and wasps with repurposed dish liquid bottles, scraping my knees to my mothers’ dismay. 

i was almost five then and it was summer, school was out with days of neighborhood adventures before me. on those days, i’d wait for a supervised trip to the candy store, for an afternoon treat: something sweet, juicy and chewy in all the right places. 

sometimes, the first sip of a coffee is the same, as it was with this espresso: sweet, juicy and chewy in all the right places. 

standing on this courtyard ground in Berlin reminded me of when I was almost five, playing on summertime sidewalks and in a backyard  behind a fourplex, where tended weeds could never obscure how my knees got scraped again and again.  

this espresso at Father Carpenter made me want a lovable scar, so that I could find it and remember how flavor played with me on this day that felt like summertime.

the first sip was a tart green apple, whose acidity was a gentle slap into awakened flavor, the second sip was juicy, stick-ily running down its outer skin and mine. then the third and last sip happened like oxidation to an apple, quick, taking over its flesh, as if it was a Stranger Thing.

I slid from tart to sweet, plunging deep into a world of grape now and laters. I thought, aren’t I here in Berlin, and aren’t i memory years away from  L.A., the fourplex, and our neighborhood candy store? yes I was, but this took me back, back there, only now I was scraping the bottom of the demitasse and not my knees.

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