It was the winter of 1989, and I worked as a food service manager at Marine World Africa USA in Vallejo. During the off-season at the Park, we had time to detail clean all the restaurants, work on projects, and plan the next season’s events. During this time, I was told I was taking over Picnics for the upcoming season, and I was thrilled. My new boss was Scott.  Scott came from the old Park in Redwood City and was the second in command in our food world.  He was married to Janet, who ran the food office and would soon become one of my dearest friends.  

Scott was a very detailed, organized, OCD guy who had a routine every morning. We would get to our offices; he would turn on the lights, walk through the restaurants, turn on the equipment, and start the coffee. We would look over the day’s schedule and plan out our day.  When the coffee was ready, we would walk down to the restaurant, and he would make his coffee, offer some to me, and I would say no thanks, and I would make myself a cup of tea or cocoa.

On this cloudy and rainy morning, I offered to get the coffee. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee finally got to me, and I just had to try it. I poured his coffee and then mine. I added a little cream and sugar and took a sip, slowly raising the cup to my lips, savoring the moment, and finally tasting the coffee for the first time. BLAH! This tasted horrible, I thought, and added some additional sugar packets, and then there it was…heaven in a cup.  

My first cup of coffee was Yuban medium roast coffee, and I grew to love it, especially on those cold, dark mornings. This became my routine, which still jump-starts my mornings even today. I moved on from Yuban and switched to Folgers, which I still drink from time to time. I now have a Keurig machine (it’s a Cuisinart, and it’s been going on for five years now), and it’s fantastic. My K cup of choice these days is Starbucks medium roast. 

There is nothing better than making a pot of coffee, sitting outside, and enjoying that first cup while watching the birds chirp, the plants grow, and the pine trees sing in the wind.