There are things that are delicious beyond compare. Coffee is one of those things. The mysterious dark brew, the drink that is bitter and complex, chaste and filthy at once, that both wakes you and calms you and is as good in the morning as it is late at night. I am a determined and devoted coffee drinker, black and all the varying shades of cream it can be taken with, and I go for it all day and then into the dark because it fuels me and moves me and fills me with efficiency and drive and daring. When it gets late I just put some alcohol into the mix and keep going, never slowing, keeping it real for as long as I can feel.
My parents drink coffee but not that much in the morning, so I couldn’t have caught my obsessive love of the bean from them. They didn’t forbid it, so it wasn’t something banned and therefore alluring in its outlaw glamour. They were just somewhat indifferent to the beverage. When I was a kid, they drank it only after church on Sundays, along with sugar donuts (I don’t like those – it’s weird and blatant to have sugar coating the surface of a pastry when it’s not glazed or powdered – I don’t agree) in the multipurpose rooms rented to 12 step meetings during the week. Churches always have those massive urns for the brewing and serving of coffee, and when its made in these machines, the color of it is clearer, the same shade of cola, not as opaque or viscous as the black medicine of starbucks, but a medium to dark brown with bubbles like soda. My father is partial to black coffee late at night, possibly because he is the teetotaler of the family, along with my brother. Me and my mom are straight up winos.
A good way to take my caffeinated pleasure is Whynatte, a tasty chilled latte that also makes a nicely sweet syrupy reduction for a coffee cake. My friend Jesse owns the company, and gives me lots of the glorious drink, filling my Atlanta fridge with the best stuff going, so I’ve made nice cake-like fancies with it to give back to him as gifts. He’s got a piece of a lovely Whynatte confection from last year, carefully wrapped up in his freezer like wedding cake. He’s sentimental like that.
Whynatte is fabulous for making protein shakes in the morning, or just on its powerful and energetic own, slammed down with gusto on the way to work at 5am. I might take more than one with me in the early dark of dawn. It’s a long drive and I hate feeling sleepy when I could feel like I own the world. That’s a nice effect – to drink Whynatte and sense the greatness of you and yourself. I am addicted to that power. I get all hopped up on Whynatte before kickboxing and the punching bag knows it and feels the force of my ferocity. I drink whynatte so everyone will know who is the boss bitch around here. The cans fill up in the back seat of my car, my own personal landfill.
I perform better in general with the right fuel, like a higher octane to match my higher standards. I am always running around like I am in a race and at every turn is a checkered flag.
I crave a nice chilled Whynatte on ice in the afternoon, especially on set, in the dead heat of the Georgia summer. The sepia gold and black tones of the Whynatte can sets my stomach growling and my mind on the nutty cocoa flavor. Late into the night, Whynatte and vodka with an “S” of whipped cream written across the top the glass makes me feel like an impromptu writing session with a bunch of overworked musicians/comics is moving from a vague possibility to a real probability. I can take the glass into bed with me and it’s both cocktail and dessert which is a good strategy especially when I have company.
For the great city of Atlanta, Whynatte is something we almost take for granted. Jesse and Andy are native sons. They work hard for Atlanta and Atlanta needs them more than they need coffee. The company brings countless events to the city every year, rock and roll and mixology and contests and mechanical bulls and everything that makes going out here in the “a” – “e” for extraordinary. I just love the drink. I love the city. And I love my guys. You should have one, and think of me.