A Coffee Crisis

Dueling with caffeine. Plus, John Oliver's dead dog, Chappell Roan, and more.

I am a woman in crisis. A Coffee crisis.

Caffeinating in Italy, Vietnam, and Italy again (because of course).

I don’t recall if or when I already shared this inconsequential detail of my life, but about two years ago I gave up my daily dose. This was kind of huge seeing as I was one of those people who needed it within 8 minutes of waking and couldn’t see straight or have any sort of conversation without a sip of brew. In my three decades or so of drinking the stuff, I’d gone from a medium French Vanilla with skim from Dunkin’ to Green Mountain K-Cups with skim to Nespresso with warm frothed skim to, eventually, seeing the light of single-origin craft beans, freshly ground, and brewed pour-over style—sans any milk. I was a changed woman. Further to my particularity, I traveled with my Aeropress and proudly started my day wherever as long as I had some hot water and a scoop of my (usually expensive) roast of choice.

Brewing a cup of coffee as I crossed the Adriatic in Greece at 9a.m.

For nearly all the years I lived in Paris, I’d have my coffee no other way, even if this “way” was neither French nor typically American.¹ And then I started having some irritability in the chest area, which is bound to make anyone nervous let alone a Jewish woman in her 40s. So without fuss for once in my life, I switched to tea. Shockingly, I didn’t internally combust or suffer from any withdrawals. As long as I had a morning ritual that involved something warm and a small amount of caffeine, all seemed right with the world. (And the space around my thumper.)

The ’ole Coffee Conundrum, however, resurfaced during last year’s spring stint in San Francisco. The jetlag was rough and seeking out a coffee shop gave me a destination as I was getting to know the city. But mostly it was because I’d run out of the fancy looseleaf tea I’d discovered and grown accustomed to drinking in Paris. First, it was a vanilla black tea from Le Parti du Thé, a store in my neighborhood with an orange facade that I mostly ignored for the majority of my living there because I was a Coffee Girl. And then, when they were closed on a day I needed to restock, I discovered a blend called “Orange Cookies” from Early Bird in the Marché d’Aligre. Silly name aside, it’s the most magnificent black tea with, yes, dried kumquats and a variety of other subtle spices like clove and cinnamon.

Cue to me now living in America where it is nearly impossible to find such looseleaf deliciousness at a grocery store or even a specialty cafe or market—at least here on Long Island. (I know, I know. I need to get with the Amazon program. Sue me for still preferring to see and smell things before I buy and swallow them.) The tea selection is, indeed, vast at stores like Whole Foods, but it’s all bagged and my options for a black tea are either Earl Grey, English Breakfast, Early Gray, or English Breakfast, both of which are a bit bland for my taste. I need some flava flav. Some nuance.

And so, because I like to drink something warm in the mornings and I enjoy the ritual of making that something, I have gone back to purchasing expensive craft coffee and using my Aeropress even though I don’t like the effect it has on me. I rarely finish the cup—and it’s a small cup!—because it makes me feel simultaneously high-strung and wired; like I could run a race in flip-flops, but also still probably fall asleep if I started reading. It’s generally better if I have the coffee later in the morning, but mostly—and this hurts me to admit and type out—my body is just not that into it anymore. I never thought I’d be the person who drinks decaf, but then again I also never thought I’d be the person who complains about how loud it is in restaurants. Here we are and something should probably change.

So! Give me your tips. What else can I drink in the morning that’d be good for my gut, rut, and ritual? I’m curious about mushroom coffee—and Instagram ads are pushing it hard on me—but there’s no way someone as particular about her coffee beans is going to enjoy sipping funghi. (Right?) A tall glass of cold or room-temperature water doesn’t feel inviting. Plus, it’s too easy an act—even if my eyes are still crusty and I add lemon. I’d like to get into a juice routine, but that, on the other hand, feels overly aggressive. Consider this a cry for help.

In the meantime, you better believe I’ll be stocking up on “Orange Cookies” when I visit Paris…NEXT WEEK! And likely succumbing to heart palpitations—of the jetlag-induced coffee kind and those from just seeing ma ville et mes amies again. xx — Sara

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Clickable*

• You can hike from NYC to the Catskills. | The New York Times

• A shocking family drama. | The Cut

• “Imagine missing out on this.” Chappell Roan is…Madonna? | The Face

*I’m finally reading a great novel (Bear by Julia Phillips) so not many links this week. If you’ve read something you think I’d like, let me know below!

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Watchable

Of all the Emmy speeches at Sunday’s ceremony, I loved John Oliver’s the most. Not only was he on-brand funny and endearing, but he thanked his recently departed dog! Why don’t more people do this?! It’s always “wife/husband/partner” or “my kids” or “God” or “my agent.” But we all know dogs are the creatures giving us the most unconditional love and support. Here’s to thanking dogs more often!

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On Repeat: Chappell Roan, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess

Perhaps if I weren’t in my mid-40s I’d have become a fan of Chappell Roan much sooner, but I’m only just catching on to the “femininomenon” now, and let me tell you fellow mid-40-somethings: it’s not too late! Don’t sleep on discovering pop music’s new darling! And not just because being clueless will only make you feel ancient. But because nearly all the songs on her debut album are legit bangers and will make you want to increase the volume, roll down the windows, and sing from the top of your lungs while driving to and from soccer practice. Doing a CRDD (Chappell Roan Deep Dive) will also be especially helpful for those of you scrolling and sending TikToks back and forth to your friends because you’ll now recognize and appreciate all the voiceovers and dance numbers being created to her ditties. I especially love the retro-esque cheerleader anthem “Hot to Go!” but “Red Wine Supernova” gives Jewel-the-artist vibes in the best, mid-90s way possible. Honestly, it’s hard to pick a favorite. Just know that if you’re in a good mood, or want to be in a good mood, Chappell Roan is waiting for you. Oh, and because I know you’ll struggle with the pronunciation as I did, according to Style Caster it’s “Chapel Roan” as in the church + moan. You’re welcome.

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Currently overthinking…

…see intro…my strengths and weaknesses…

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Souvenir: Class Notes etc.

With all the talk in the news about banning cell phones in schools, I got to thinking about the types of things today’s kids miss out on as a result of technology and being connected 24/7 — such as “passing” notes in class and then having to write out your transgressions for doing so on the chalkboard or a looseleaf paper. Those were the days! (Or were they?)

1. In my completely unscientific explanation, “French coffee”—un café—is an espresso and the French’s attempt at “American coffee” is an “Americano,” which is just an espresso with hot water. This is very much unlike typical “American coffee” in the U.S., which is generally drip coffee from a large-batch brewing machine that usually sits in whatever canister it is brewed in for hours on end, resulting in a burnt, bitter taste. K-Cups aimed to change that, but talk to me after you’ve had a pour-over or French-style “filtre,” which, thankfully, many of the now numerous (ironically Anglophone-inspired) cafés in Paris serve.