The grinder whirs to life at 6:47 AM, a sound that has become the unofficial start of my day. Not the alarm, not the first rays of light through the blinds, but the mechanical churning of coffee beans into powder.
There’s something meditative about the process. Water at exactly 200°F, beans ground to a medium-coarse consistency, the slow pour in concentric circles. Each step requires attention, presence.
The first sip is always a small revelation. Did I get the ratio right this time? Is the water temperature perfect? These small variables matter more than they should, but that’s precisely the point.
In a world of instant everything, the coffee ritual demands patience. And perhaps that’s why I love it so much.