Generations loving coffee

Coffee in the morning has never been lacking, thank God, not even in the moments of greatest crisis in my country; from artisan to imported coffee has passed through my hands and I still do not know anyone who does not consider coffee a true blessing in their home. It is even a symbol of prosperity and purchasing power.

Particularly, in my family we have always joked that we love coffee so much and the reason is because our first baby bottle was a coffe with milk.

In my breakfasts, I can't imagine having a corn arepa for breakfast with a soft drink or a divinely toasted bread with tea, for example.

I am a lover to death of sweets and I can only think of a divine coffee with milk to go with a chocolate cake or a simple sponge cake to balance the amount of sugar since with other drinks it would simply be cloying.

My special coffee is the cinnamon coffee with cinnamon well loaded and has milk with abundant foam. My mother also loved cinnamon coffee, without milk but she drank it rarely due to problems with her blood pressure as cinnamon tends to increase it. When I prepare this elixir I feel renewed, it is as if it gives you all the energy you need and more. I don't prepare it every day but only on special occasions to pamper myself.

My mother and grandmother had the habit that it was the first thing on her to-do list. The latter, a very humble person, was for years the means of support for her and her children. My mother told me that very early in the morning my grandmother used to sell coffee on the side of the road to truck drivers and it was very popular because her coffee was always freshly brewed. She would finish a thermos of coffee for sale and would set up to fill another one with her own measurements. Once my mother was sent to help her to go ahead with the work with a thermos and like any child who is told: "Be careful, don't run! The only thing she had left in her mind was to run away. Halfway down the road it fell and with it the container with coffee that was made of glass inside; she left it in its place hoping that a miracle would happen and that it would fix itself. When my grandmother was asked for a cup of coffee, a miracle did not happen, as my mother expected; a lot of glass fell quickly into the cup. My grandmother was very sorry to the gentleman and asked him to excuse her, it was just a childish thing to do. After he left, my grandmother told her other children to bring me "Reina" (that is my mother's name), she listened and ran away again, this time the fall was worse, she got hurt and although my grandmother punished her, she had to take care of her because she hurt her knees and arms.

My husband's family also loves this drink and nowadays I make it in a pot that dates from around 60 a few years ago. It was used by my husband's grandmother for various purposes and today my hands have the joy of maintaining the coffee tradition.

And you: how do you like your coffee?