There is something deeply poetic about coffee.

The grinder pulverizing the beans, the ritual tamping of the fresh grounds, and that beautiful smell when the first coal-black drops of liquid cascade into the cup. When the steamer sings its song; and the union of sound, sight, and savor meet in that moment -such is the stuff of perfection. I remember when my romance with Coffee started; it was on my first visit to Starbucks, in Portland Oregon in 2002. Before this; coffee was something that only...