Café Crem: “Let us talk about us”

Halloween causes all manner of strange things to happen and tonight, the coffee cups fly!

The Dishwasher

So, I´m stood there in your kitchen
With the detritus of dishes from the day
And as I ponder how to clean these nasty, stubbern stains
I hear a voice and turn to hear you say

„you can put them in that cupboard, for a washer it conceals
but take care to never open when it´s on“
„For who can know who does the dishes, and what horror it reveals
if you try to open when the light is on?“

So, this piqued my curiosity, and at the witching hour
Decided to investigate this claim
With a teetering pile of coffee cups resembling the Sears tower
I opened, loaded, closed it up again.

Now 30 minutes in, the cycle building, to a roar
I lost the will to sit it out and wait
With a sharp intake of breath, I reached, and, opening the door
Prepared to meet my culinary fate…

The cups flew thick and fast, some saucers hit me, some flew past
But in the maelstrom of the bubbles there appeared
A horrendous green-skinned goblin with a scourer and a sponge
And a little bit of food stuck in his beard

He leapt upon my neck, and razored teeth began their work
And as my head came off, that last thing I had seen
Was the little yellow fellow quietly mopping up the mess
So, though I´m dead, at least I´m scrupulously clean.

I don’t know if a coffee gene exists. So that you can inherit the liking of coffee (or coffee cups). But the name of my mother was the one I put in the title and which, in English, would sound like Jenny-who-drinks-coffee. It was my mother’s nickname. Still is, in fact, since she is 82 and counting, with a younger sister, the only survivors of a 13 children family… She was called that name (her sister still calls her like that) because it was common knowledge in the family that you needn’t to prepare very elaborate meals to please my mother (Eugenia, shortly Jenny): if you would give her a large cup of caffé au lait and some bread she would be quite happy… and they called her Jenny-who-drinks-coffee… Not a bad nickname, after all… Another time I will tell you her secret coffee making ritual… For now, here she is, in her prime, in a detail of the painting I gave her for her 80th anniversary… Ion Vincent Danu

ION VINCENT DANU, Sherbrooke, Québec, Canada

Happy Halloween Coffee Cup Clubbers!  I thought I would present a fictional Halloween Mug steaming with a little something…Looks like a Casper Latte! And if you were wondering if it’s a little early…well, here in Spain the clock’s struck Midnight and we’re into October 31^st……Look out, He’s behind you…………

Here you see what faces me each morning as I try to restore the kitchen and get on about my day. Every two years or so my husband buys a new espresso machine in vain hope that he will finally achieve Latte of the same quality as his favorite cafe (which at the moment is Joe’s in Sebastopol). He’s also trying to avoid the $4(USD) cup of coffee which Kev talked about so eloquently. This particular model arrived at our home a couple weeks ago. The little metallic capsules on the right contain the coffee, which one loads very neatly into the top, fills it with water and VOILA! The silver pitcher on the left is for steaming the milk. I was ecstatic at first, thinking this operation would be so much neater than the previous one, and granted there are now no coffee grounds finding their way into neighboring drawers and down the sides of the trash and staining white counters, and so on.

There was one little step that was forgotten in the installation of the new equipment. No one thought to mention to 17 year old Ben, who does breakfast dishes on weekends, that the milk steamer could not be put in the dishwasher because of electrical wiring inside. And Ben, who got an A+ in Physics, never learned that practical lesson at school. So we are now on our second $100 milk steamer and those $4 Lattes are no longer looking so expensive. Personally I go for the $1 “Mini” at Joe’s whenever I get my coffee out, and have studiously avoiding learning the whole home latte scenario. Coffee should be as simple as tea I think.

SUSAN CORNELIS

If you remember well, Cochonette was the real muse of this CCClub. She gave me the idea. She should have been the first lady here, the first cup I wanted to present to you from the very first beginning, But as the day came for her to appear here, I couldn´t find her anymore. I suspected she had disapeared with this strange creature which looks like a neon tree on four legs and sniffing around her all the time, dragging behind him air balloons in the form of hearts. Anyway… she is back, a little bit weak on her bottom, and quite confused, it seems to me.

So, here she is, my first Lady Cochonette. And she has a story to tell. Not a mountain moving one, but for me a touching and funny one.

In Spring this year Kevin and me went to the French Britanny to take possession of the new motorhome we had bought on the Internet. We had flown from Spain to England, and then from England to France, travelling light, so we had to buy everything we needed to live inside the motorhome, especially, of course, coffee cups!

As we finally had our vehicle, it was late and the shops were about to close. We ran into the nearest supermarket and bought 2 cups, I think the ugliest we have ever had. But we had no choice. On the way back to Spain we spent some time by my parents in the Pyrenees. I was shopping with my mother when I suddenly saw Cochonette and fell in love with her. To give you an idea: Cochonette is made out of a wonderful, expensive material, and is 16 cm high. A hell of a cup! I tried to see how much it was, but the price was not written, only the barcode.

I said to my mother:

“Maman, didn´t you promise me to buy me a beautiful coffee cup, 20 years ago?”

She looked at me shocked. She remembered the promise.

” And I didn´t?”

“No… but you can make it good now….”

Of course she agreed, I always knew how to make her feel guilty… ! (but I felt a little uncomfortable)

“But it is surely very expensive…”

“It doesn´t matter… you had to wait 20 years!”

In fact, she was right, having had 20 years to save up for it! As we went to the checkout a big surprise awaited us. Cochonette only cost… 1,75 €!° I had expected at least 15.

At home Kevin, who never misses an occasion to get a deal, wanted to drive back there and buy some more.

We drove there, bought 3 more -Moutonnet, Girafette and Cochonnet. Kevin counted out 5-25€ in change.

Well… a big surprise greeted us again. 52,50 € was the amount of the bill. Can you imagine why? Kevin wanted to leave them there, but I started crying and … no, he didn´t steal them, against his habit, he really bought these 3 cups for me! But he never forgave me…

And now: can somebody explain me why my cups stories are always connected with my parents?

MIKI, Spain, (Albir)

MIKI, Spain, (Albir)

Whilst I am painfully aware that ordering a Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks costs the equivalent of a modest three-bedroomed bungalow, I must confess a certain love for their exorbitantly priced beverages.The cup I present today relates to an incident in which, quite flagrantly flying in the face of the law and common decency, I found a way to celebrate my love of Starbucks, and simultaneously deprive them of a miniscule amount of profits in the form of goods.

One afternoon, I was browsing a BORDERS bookstore, one of those splendid establishments that boasts not only a plethora of paperbacks and periodicals, but also an “in-house” Starbucks coffee shop. The aroma overwhelms you as you leaf through a weighty tome, and it is almost unheard of to depart the bookstore without a caffeine fix, third world debt notwithstanding. However, on this particular day, I was leafing rather hurriedly, as I was ready to answer natures call. Returning the book to the shelf, I made for the rest rooms. The door swung open as I entered the empty conveniences.

There it was, sat on the side of the sink; the dregs of someone’s favourite latte in the bottom…a Starbucks Classic Coffee Mug! I believe they’ll reluctantly part with one if you give them around Six English pounds. Now, having starved for my art, I could live for about a week on six pounds, so the chances of me parting with it in exchange for such a receptacle, as nice as it is, were slim. I looked quickly around; I was still alone. Abandoning principle, morality, and probably God, I grabbed the cup and washed the dregs away, stuffing the mug into my shoulder bag. My heart raced. Could I leave the building unmolested? Was this really stealing, or could I get off on a technicality? Could I assume the washroom was like Switzerland, steadfastly neutral?

I left the sanctuary of the washroom, and, step by measured step, made my way out of the bookstore to freedom…I had done it!

The mug was mine! Mine I tell you!

Starbucks, Eat my shorts!

KEV MOORE

If you don’t believe in globalisation this might convince you… The same enamel-white-with-blue ridge cup is to be found in the US and in some lost Eastern-Europe country like Romania… This is a photo (unfortunately,. B&W) to prove it and I swear it’s white with a blue ridge… The little cutie is not my daughter - even if mine also was very cute - but some paysant littel girl in a country day-care center where my wife worked sometime, back in 1981-82…

Of course, she drank milk but I think I can see in her eyes she will be a big coffee drinker… It’s not very healthy, maybe, but it keeps you sharp…

ION VINCENT DANU, Sherbrooke, Québec, Canada

Do you thirst for comment and conversation? Do you want to hang your art on our walls? Would you like an audience for your anecdotes?

Of course you do!

Enter, scroll down, look around and ask Miki how to make your own drink of the day…

By W.R. Jones

I was looking for something to go with my yearly - well the last two anyway, painting of a pumpkin, when I found this metal coffee cup. It has an appealing look to me with a sense of times past. There are a lot more practical mugs/cups today that hold the heat of the coffee in while not burning your hands. I’ll just use it for the painting and not actually drink out of it.

I remember drinking water out of a cup like this at my grandparent’s house. It was in a rural Iowa town and to get the water you had to pump it up by hand from a well.

Mostly, this painting does not make me think of coffee but of how to get candy for Halloween now that I’m too old to go door to door. I’ve given thought to getting a toddler size dummy and pulling it in a wagon around the neighborhood. Then I could go to the door and ask for candy for my “grandchild”. You know, I think it might work.