When I was young, I was never enthusiastic about drinking coffee because, for some unknown reasons, it often made me feel ill. Until one year when I travelled to Osaka for the first time, I went to the famous Marufuku Coffee Shop and inexplicably I was cured by its pour-over coffee. Since then, I started brewing hand drip coffee by myself in a rather carefree way. Other people might be very anxious about checking the water temperature or the brewing time, but I often just do it by relying on my intuition.
Nowadays, brewing hand drip coffee has become a kind of daily ritual for me; each day my very own precious morning time always begins with this set of coffee dripper and pot made by by Takeshi Omura. When my son Julian has finished eating breakfast and starts wandering around the house with some toys in hand, he will suddenly remember something and come to remind me, “Mama, make coffee.” I’ll then smile and say, “Yes, mama’s gonna make some coffee. You wanna help?” He will then eagerly open our kitchen cupboard, take out the bag of coffee beans and hand it to me. He will also patiently stand by my side to watch me take out the scale from a drawer and pour some beans into the measuring cup before letting the grinder grind them into fine powder. Right then, the boiling water is ready. I carefully place the dripper and pot onto the kitchen counter, put the filter paper into the dripper, pour the coffee powder into it, and start pouring the hot water with a long mouth kettle. While admiring the beauty of the brewing bubbles, my mind also wanders: apart from tea ceremony, there seems to be coffee ceremony in Japan as well, when would I be free to go and learn this practice? Just when I start losing myself in my thoughts, Julian tucks at my shirt sleeve and asks me to hold him so he can watch the bubbles. We accidentally knock down the bag of remaining beans and they scatter all over the kitchen floor. My moment of peace abruptly ends with Julian’s giggles. Another chaotic day begins at the moment when we start picking up the beans, one by one, with our hopefully never-ending laughter.