Just a cup of coffee
For me, coffee means something simple: a cup of black coffee. A pour-over, a French press, an americano, or maybe an espresso over ice. It does not matter if it is morning, afternoon, or late evening. I do not drink it to wake up. I drink it because I enjoy it.
There was a period a couple of years ago when I drank espresso with ice almost every day. I was often surprised how many people had never tried it, and sometimes waiters in cafés would ask me twice if I really wanted espresso with ice. For me it felt natural, clean, refreshing, and still very much coffee. The rule is simple: put in plenty of ice and do not wait until it melts. That way it stays bold and crisp.
I do not feel the same about cappuccinos, lattes, or flavored drinks. They are nice beverages in their own way, but not what I reach for when I want coffee. They do not give me the same sense of clarity and focus that comes from a simple cup.
Even the smell makes me happier. I like making a big mug, four or five hundred milliliters, sitting down to read or watch something, and letting my mind clear. It feels like a small ritual, a pause, and a bit of excitement at the same time.
Black coffee is not just about caffeine. It is about taste, the moment, and the simple pleasure of drinking it without distractions. That is why when I say “a cup of coffee”, I mean it literally. Just coffee.