kickin' ass

Ahhh, caffeine.

I feel it penetrate my veins as I perch in front of my computer screen, green cup firmly in hand. A smile passes, unexpectedly, across my face.

Mellow, warm, inviting, the aroma of freshly brewed joe is one that's been foreign to my abode these last, oh, three weeks. It's always an ordeal for me to buy coffee when I'm out, because the specialty stuff that I prefer is off the beaten track and I only remember that I want it first thing in the morning when I reach for the round, white canister that's supposed to hold it . . . and it's empty, again. That, and I suppose life would just be too simple and enjoyable if coffee was always at hand and that would be no fun.

This time was different, though. I had just spoken to Leo Johnson from Kicking Horse Coffee in Invermere, B.C., and was inspired to try one of his coffees for a change. I think it was his edgy-cool-guy-meets-coffee-snob approach that lured me in. He refuses to "just grind out coffee" like everyone else (i.e. they only sell whole bean and insist it be ground by the serving for optimum freshness), and their primary focus is on blends. "That's where the art is," he stressed.

But I have to admit, the biggest attraction was the idea of offering some conservative, unassuming visitor (like my mom) a cup of Kick Ass coffee. "No, really," I'd say when her mouth fell open, "That's what it's called. That's the name." Johnson says that the novelty factor is high: "I get a lot of seniors calling up with, 'I just love that Kick Ass.'" Other cool names, all inspired by the Rockies where they're located, are Three Sisters, Grizzly Claw, Cliff Hanger, Hoodoo Joe, 454 Horsepower and Rundel Rock. Oh, and their coffee is also fair trade and organic - and, the clincher, available at IGA, right behind my house.

Without missing a beat, I went and bought myself a bag - $17, I think it was - and brought it home. Never mind the fact that I don't have a coffee grinder. Like that's going to stop me? I'll just buy one, I decided. Yeah, three weeks and $30 worth of coffeeshop quick-hits later. It was either that or start gnawing through the whole beans with my teeth.

Yesterday afternoon I broke down and hit our local London Drugs for a decent grinder - A Cuisinart, brushed metal one that matches my brewer. $50! I bring it home. Wash the bowl and blade and grind away. Put the coffee on. Wait. Pour. . . and it SUCKS big time. What did I do wrong? Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale?

I dumped it, on my way out the door to an event I was already late for, in favour of a Caramel Macchiato from you know where - which made me even later but this was about priorities.

This morning, I decided that it was the grind - or perhaps lack of it - that was to blame, not the coffee or the actual grinder per se. The Kicking Horse "Rules" ("1. Grind Kicking Horse Coffee just before brewing. This way you get the most flavour out of your coffee. Pre-ground deteriorates rapidly;" "2. The proper grind is very important. If you grind too fine the result will be a bitter cup of coffee and too course will make the coffee weak" - yeah, guess which one I did) were thoughtful, but threw me off (why do I always overthink EVERYTHING?!). This morning, I whizzed the life out of it, not caring if I made it bitter as long as it had a taste.

It was - is - as I already described, perfect. And with an added bonus - my entire house smells like a coffee shop from the grinding AND brewing of the vice. Heaven in a cup.

Oh, and there was an advantage to be had in going without for as long as I did, in the elevated pleasure hit when I resumed. Just hearing the coffee poured into my cup, gurgling joyfully all the way up, made me want to weep with the pleasure of it.

And now, as I sit and slurp, and words again flow easily out of my fingers and onto the screen, I feel that all, again, is right with the world - or at least my corner of it. It is, indeed, a Kick Ass day.