Mmmm. I just enjoyed a huge, and I mean huge, café au lait. To me, sipping café au lait is all about savoring a slew of sensory sentiments — specifically, memories of France, the taste of France, and contentment I experienced in simpler times. Yes, many of them in France.
Café au lait, more than any other variation of coffee, conjures a teenage moi exploring a brave new world in a French family, and moments with friends in a city I love — Paris.
Don’t we all find that memories are routinely resurrected by taste and scent?
Isn’t it lovely when those are wonderful memories?
Mmmm, je répète. I can almost purr like a concupiscent cat contemplating a few of them… occurring in my adult years, mind you.
Some days, we seem to be more receptive to good memories as well as more in need of them. And café au lait always does the trick for me. When I’m feeling restless or out of sorts, café au lait soothes me. When I’m missing a different sort of life, a different me, café au lait reminds me that I have more agency in creating each day than I think — no matter where I am or what sort of “life” I’m living outwardly.
While I don’t have a personal ritual to do with my café au lait — knowing the value of personal rituals of all sorts — I do, nonetheless, have a pretty pottery bowl that I generally use when I want to indulge. However, sometimes I go for a very American method of oversizing my drink. By that I mean an enormous cup, um… mug, um… mega-mug that holds a full four cups of coffee and a half cup of hot milk. Care to see what I’m talking about?
And, well… yes. I do rather like the statement it promotes — that life is what happens between coffee and wine.
While I enjoy a glass of cabernet or pinot now and then, I must confess: I adore coffee. Perhaps I should trade the virtual pen for the barista’s scrumptious skill set — from double espresso to skinny latte to my memory-marveling café au lait, which is now a lifelong comfort go-to, and has been since my first trip to France at age 15.
Despite my affinity for this magical elixir (and its awesome ability to transport me to the Marais), I’ve cut down on caffeine consumption considerably this past year — from six to eight cups a day (I know, I know) to the skinny, skimpy, scarce serving size of one mug in the morning, and an optional half-cup in the afternoon. Quite a cutback, don’t you think? Imagine!
That said, this morning I went for three and a half cups of coffee with a half cup of hot milk comprising my calming, comforting, (colossal) café au lait.
Although I am not really much of a breakfast person, some other comfort comestibles that make mouthwatering morning fare include warm bread (any sort), oatmeal, pancakes, or… another France-evoking plat — eggs over easy with peas and a piece of good crusty bread to soak up some of the runny yellow yolks. Yes, I did say eggs with peas, which was one of my favorites as a student in Paris when I could not afford to eat often or much. (Try it, it’s delish – make sure they’re good petits pois.)
Coffee with a bagel and cream cheese?
That’s another comfort combo for me, though one that I don’t indulge in very often. That taste temptation is something I used to love in winter time, in part because it reminded me of an old boyfriend, perhaps the one that got away, who would show up at my front door in the dead of a New England winter with takeout coffee, and a truly yummy warm bagel with cream cheese, wrapped in foil to keep it toasty.
The best part? His smile as he breezed through my door before the workday began.
Any fave foods in the morning? Any drinks or treats that remind you of contented times in another location, or possibly in another country? Do you find that if you greet the morning with something good, the positive impact propels you through a perkier, more upbeat day?
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To answer your question… toast, made with my mum’s homemade bread, a slather of butter, and a strong cup of tea. Ahhh. That’s what I long for when I’m feeling ill, or just a little blue.
Lately I have begun to love lattes almost as much as tea.. This love born from trying to figure out how the heck to order a cup of coffee in Australia (flat white, long black, huh?) So I would just go with a latte because I knew what it was.
Now I almost always order lattes when we’re travelling or eating out, even though I am basically a tea drinker. Most restaurants cannot make tea. The bag on the side of a luke warm pot of water…ickk. Except when we’re in the UK, of course. Where I looove the breakfasts. That great pot of strong tea you always get at your table. Sigh. Lovely.
I don’t know which part of your comment is the funniest, Sue – warm water as opposed to piping hot for tea, ordering lattes because at least you know what they are and what you’ll get, or the dilemma of ordering a cup of coffee in Australia. (This last is not something I ever thought about! But I’m going to keep it in mind if I ever find myself down under and dying for a good cup of Joe.) And ooooo, your food descriptions have made me very hungry. But I’m not going to do anything to undo the good work that got me back into my size 6 jeans! ?
When I think about morning comfort foods (or for anytime really) what comes to mind are two things I try to avoid these days – bread and dairy. Like Sue, toast is a winner. In my case, just plain old white bread from the toaster with real butter, or heck, even margarine, just has a certain taste and texture that is unique and comforting. But the real treat is warm sourdough with real butter! Enough to make you say to heck with all that stuff about your gut biome, probiotics and intestinal permeability! As for dairy, a good stiff chocolate milk is the go-to comfort vice. When I was young my mother dreamed up the concoction of graham cracker crumbs, sugar and milk, mixed to a soupy texture for a snack. It was wonderful, but probably helps explain why I have trouble with those ingredients now.
I’ve written before about the smell of blue jello at the regional cafeteria chain. It still exists, and the smell (although I’ve never eaten it) still takes me back to my childhood. They have recently re-introduced my favorite childhood desert, a cheesecake-like pie, which I’ll admit to sampling and which still takes me back. There are those same ingredients again…
I love your mug! It reminds of this quote “Without music to decorate it, time is just a bunch of boring production deadlines or dates by which bills must be paid.” (Frank Zappa).
As I enjoy a homemade caffe latte (with hand ground espresso), I’m a week away from a solo trip to Italy (no luck on the dating front yet). Just over one week on my own touring Verona, Modena, Bologna, and Padua; one week visiting relatives near Venice. I’m looking forward to the hotel near my relatives, even a 3 star hotel has a barista in Italy and I remember the caffe macchiatto from my last trip there. This will be my first solo trip, I don’t know what to expect so it’s a balance of trepidation and excitement.