Maybe it’s because my mother comes from a coffee-growing region. Perhaps it’s because the aroma of home-roasted coffee beans reminds me of running into the kitchen as a little boy, begging for a sip (our homemade brew was never bitter, but so round and chocolaty that even my childish taste buds could admire it). Whatever the reason, I must confess that coffee is the one thing I absolutely cannot resist.

I submit that my obsession with this finest of nectars is only natural… very natural. Consider the coffee tree. It first produces a flower, which then yields fruit… a “cherry” which in turn gives up its bean-like seed.

I enjoy all varieties of coffee, Robusta or Arabica, full-bodied to lightly sweet And I demand that my coffee be carefully picked, fresh-roasted and lovingly infused, drip by drip. Everywhere I travel I collect new favorites, from high in the mountains or on the lovely slopes of tropical islands. I bring them home to enjoy with friends, to sip and savor over a meal, to linger over with a mid-day break… and to keep me company as I write, write, write in my journal. Won’t you join me?