An Ode to the Nectar

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­­Every morning starts here. Whether it is waking up on a regular day, attempting to delay a hangover, or amping up before a session, it all starts with this one particular vice. If I don’t drink it within 30 minutes of walking out of bed, you can be assured a grumpy and slow version of me. It is coffee. The nectar as I affectionately call it. It also could be referred to as “the joe.” It all started as a tool to wake me up as I began to drive to my high school when I got my drivers license. What started as a sub par cup from the local Wawa has turned into a morning art form with lots of attention to detail at the beginning of every day. Grinding the beans to the size according to the vessel that will brew the nectar is the first step. It is either done by hand as to not wake my roommates or by a machine that isn’t too friendly on the ears. The next step involves heating up the moka pot or boiling up some water for the french press. Which brewer that gets chosen simply depends on what coffee beans are already grounded up and what the time crunch is looking like. The French press yields a lot of coffee, so I opt for this one if it is a hazy Saturday or Sunday morning. The moka pot is potent, so having some good beans can make it taste like an array of flavor. Always with a dab of almond milk and if I’m feeling a sweet craving, a dash of brow sugar. The nectar gets carefully poured into my hydro flask or What Youth mug and is either accompanied by a breakfast or my car stereo as I drive to go take a dip. When the nectar runs out, I can always count on the next cup in the morning. Sometimes I find myself guilty of drinking a second cup of “joe” in the afternoon, but it never quite feels as good as the morning glory cup. With this routine, I can always count on starting my day on the right foot, no matter the circumstances.

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