Monday, June 4, 2012


I mentioned in yesterday's post that on our recent trip to Toronto my husband and I went to Ethiopian House for dinner.  It was a restaurant that came highly recommended and along with the recommendation was "don't miss the coffee ceremony".  Now I'm a tea drinker from way back.  I love tea.  I never have coffee.  I have a bad association with it in writing a Spanish final that I knew didn't go well back in university and really haven't touched it since.
Well as they say, when in Rome...
So we ordered the coffee ceremony.  After our meal our server came round with a pan of roasting coffee beans and had us smell the aroma.  She then brought out a bowl of popcorn "coffee snack" she declared.  The coffee was then presented to us on this box, holding the coffee pot, two cups, spoons, sugar and a container of burning incense.  It was really neat. 
Then came the moment of truth, would I actually drink the stuff?  I was actually quite nervous about it.  I thought after all of this coolness of experience, what if I really hate it?  I took a sip, and then another.  I loved it.  And matched my husband cup for cup drinking it all up.  Isn't this a cute little cup?
Since we've been back, I've started having coffee cravings.  I've tried a few kinds, love Tim's, not so much a fan of the Starbucks Sumatra (though J assures me there's a blend for me there).  So it's true, while I'm a tea granny at heart, I've found a place for coffee in my life after all.

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