This is the very first book I read about coffee, even though underlying it is really a love story.
As I close the book after I read the last page, my thoughts are about coffee.
I remember the many cups of store blend I had in college to stay up completing projects in the middle of many nights. I think of the first cup of real coffee Gaston, my favourite cousin in China, bought me in Kwangchow. I recall the many cups of designer coffee my millionaire friend June made me in her lovely home. I feel the hot, fragrant Secret Recipe brew I partook weekly in Silver City with a neighbour.
My cousin, Juliet who knows much more about coffee and tea than I, talked conversantly about fair price coffee and social justice.
I realize that once upon a time we used to have coffee as a minor crop in Malaya.
My mum, who is 86, thinks of coffee as an gift from God to human kind which she discovered regretfully late in old age.
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