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16
MY
ROUSES
EVERYDAY
MAY | JUNE 2017
the
Coffee
issue
S
ome mornings, as I sip my first cup of coffee and gaze out the
window into the dark, I think about how my mama started
most of her days.
I think about how she’d rise an hour or so before the sun came up,
grab her two newspapers off the porch and make a pot of coffee.The
usually bustling house would be freakishly quiet, and she’d settle
into the same spot every morning at the kitchen table and soak up
a little bit of sweet, quiet solitude.
It was her time to write in her journal, read her papers without
interruption and slowly make sense of the world before the rush of
kids, work and everyday chaos kicked in.
Mama’s pre-dawn ritual gave her a little precious quiet time — a gift
that required little more than a solid alarm clock and a commitment
to traditional farmer’s hours.
Years later, I’m sitting at my own version of that chair at the kitchen
table, soaking up the subdued clatter of my morning refuge — the
neighborhood coffee shop.
When I first moved to New Orleans, I found this particular spot —
a window seat on one end of a long room,
with extensive views of the shop and the
street outside, across from a bus stop. From
this seat, I can see the way the shop works
from both sides of the bar, and I have spent
the past 15 years typing away and looking
up between paragraphs, watching café
culture unfold in front of me.
My mama picked her seat for a little
precious solitude. I picked mine to watch
the world go by.
For years, my most productive times have
been early mornings — that sliver of time
when my mind is clear and my brain
is properly caffeinated — especially on
deadline days. So, taking a cue from Mama,
I arrive at my seat as close to opening time
(6 a.m.) as possible.
Early morning work requires an obnoxiously
early alarm time (5:35 a.m.), but it brings
with it the kind of deep quiet known best
by fishermen, duck hunters and older
insomniacs. On the drive over, you hear
only one set of tires — your own — on the
pavement and see deep streetlight shadows.
In my mind, there’s a special place in heaven
for opening-shift baristas. They arrive well
before the sun comes up, brew a flood tide of
life-giving caffeinated elixir, and (if you’re consistent and lucky) will
slide your medium-sized, medium-roast mug across the counter as
you approach the counter. A few seconds of banter (if appropriate),
a quick exchange of money, and it’s off to work.
From my window seat, I watch the Early Shift regulars wander in,
and the process repeats itself maybe a dozen times.The large-animal
veterinary surgeon takes his place in his traditional leather lounge
chair. The budding medical student gets a jump on studying for
the board exams.The pre-workout couple in spandex fitness clothes
and fluorescent running shoes ruffle newspaper pages.The off-duty
police officer (a cousin of the barista) stops by for a quick chat after
clocking out for the night.
As a general rule, Early Shift folks might give each other a subtle nod
or a low volume “g’mornin’,” but never enough to break the room’s
library-like calm. The couple might have a whispered conversation
about the day’s plans or the news of the day, but never enough to
cause a ripple in the quiet.And it’s a good thing: Quiet allows the first
cup of coffee to slowly seep from tongue to bloodstream to brain stem
as the sun hits the horizon and the streetlights turn off for the day.
The Daily Grind
by
Pableaux Johnson
PJ’s Coffee of New Orleans was founded in 1978. Today there are more than 65 locations across
the region. The first CC’s Coffee House opened in 1995 in New Orleans. The company has
locations in Mississippi and Louisiana, including more than a dozen in the Baton Rouge area.