People acquire bad coffee habits in Greenland. I pour hot milk right onto the Nescafe. I'm not above dissolving the powder in water straight from the hot-water tap.
He pours one part whipping cream and two parts whole milk into two tall glasses with handles.
When he draws the coffee from the machine, it's thick and black like crude oil. Then he froths the milk with the steam nozzle and divides the coffee between the two glasses.
We take it out to the sofa. I do appreciate it when someone serves me something good. In the tall glasses the drink is dark as an old oak tree and has an overwhelming, almost perfumed tropical scent.
"The traffic was deafening, the smells stunning: petrol, exhaust, a spicy blend of restaurants. I bought a souvlaki from a takeaway and ate it in three bites. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted, the soft fragrant bread, the tender meat sauced and seasoned as if someone cared whether it was good, the subtle salty oils, the juices trickling over my tongue, staining the corners of my mouth."She has a way of describing details so vividly you can almost smell and taste and feel them. The quoted passage is from a novel about a serial killer's misadventures, but if you liked it, she has three other books--Liquor, Prime, and Soul Kitchen--that are revolve around restaurants and consequently food, so you might want to try those.
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posted by Melismata at 1:17 PM on August 24, 2009