Choice

9/3/16

It was a coffee shop so commonly seen，nothing fancy but something of taste. The Air was mingled with something earthy and something sour. We were greeted with a welcoming smile and a long-time-no-see hello to my friend. 

“You’ve come at the right time; I've baked some cookie. New flavor. Cranberry's.”The guy who seemed to be the boss said.

“Great. But we've stuffed our stomach with Pizza already. Perhaps later.”My friend replied.  

I wondered if she had been a frequent of this house, “Do you always come here?”

“No. Just once. But I'd spent my entire night here till it closed.”She replied.

I'd always amazed at her turning strangers into her long list of old acquaintances. 

They'd continued to chat, and left me proceedingwith my reading--the menus. This was to be exact, the first time that I'd ever stepped into a coffee shop. I'd always seen them, but never seen into them. For coffee, in my opinion, was something far too sweet and foamy to agree with my poor stomach. Although I was here, I had not the least intention to order a coffee drink. I studied through the menus in search of a name that seemed in no relevance with coffee, but I was proved in vain because I was told they sold coffee only. 

“Which one do you want?” My friend turned to me.

I stared into her eyes with a hesitant smile, hoping that she may understand. She did understand, however, returned me with an expressive smile and eyed me the anxious look from the boss.   

“I don't know. I feel really full. Which one would you like?” I threw the question back. 

“Then I recommend you this list.”The boss stepped in before my friend had a chance to reply. He pointed the list of coffee written on a small blackboard on the wall,“this list of coffee may help lessen your belly.” 

“It is coffee. Shouldn't coffee make me feel worse?”I replied, obviously as someone had not much knowledge of coffee.    

“This list of coffee is quite different from what you commonly drink. Come, have a taste of its fragrance.”He invited me.

I leaned over, and was getting ready for this challenge and preparing to say something that was supposed to receive his consent. But when the cap was opened, I knew I could drop all the facade, because the answer was so obvious：the coffee beans gave off a sour fragrance, light, but not float; crisp, but not sharp. I wondered whether it would taste like Cranberry. 

“This one is Sidamo,”he said, “this bean has a sour fragrance. And among the list as it is arranged, it is the mild. Some said it tasted like cranberry. I, however, have not discerned that, but I hope that you can.” He was beaminglike he was a proud father who was introducing his promising child. Then he reached to another can and extended it to me. The fruit fragrance was less strong, but instead something earthy emerged. 

“This is the blue mountain; less of fruit fragrance, but more of earthy scent. This one tastes more like the one you normally have.”The boss said and then silently waited for my answer.

I thought I may seem rather undecided for him as he began again, “I strongly recommend the Sidamo. I've brewed this for one of my customers this morningand she said it changed her view of coffee ever after.”I could see he was seconding his invitation. 

I snapped my gaze back to my friend again, “Do you want to drink it?” 

“As you choose.”she said coyly.

“Ok. I will have this one.”This time of the decided fashion, I made the order.

“Good or worse, it is just coffee.”My friend muttered it. 

Now that we sat on the bar, we got free admission to watch. 

He fetched the Sidamo from the shelf with the yellow can, which, I assumed, was the color of the fragrance materialized. He spooned a spoonful or two into the electric coffee grinder and let the coffee beans fully spin and grinded. After this, he told us that the smallest powder neededfiltering and only the big one would be kept to make coffee. 

“Do you know the reason?”

“Perhaps to decrease its concentration,” my friend said. 

“Yes, and I expect the big one can present you its most original taste.” He said expertly.

He then put the coffee filter right in place on the drip coffeemaker, then the grinded coffee beans. The water was already brewed to the right time and right temperature; he began from the center and then the edge. Instantly, The coffee beans submerged in a pool of their fragrance; the smell of fruit and coffee thrust into my nostrils, heightening the sound of the surging rhythm of Between Worlds. 

“Now, you can see the beans are breathing.”He looked intently at his dripping coffee beans that at the same time are swelling, higher and higher. 

“This is the way they breathe,”he said, “this is a sign of their freshness；this shows their lives.” 

I watched, silently, attentively. I'd never expected it to be alive. Now, I do.  

After the dripping process wasdone; our coffee wasfinished. He took out two saucers and two cups-- one glass and the other a small mug. He poured me the glass and my friend the mug. “This was no coffee at all！” I thought to myself. The color was so light that I thought it was a drink of Siraitia grosvenorii I used to like very much. But the fragrance would not cheat. It was the fruit fragrance that I convinced it was whatI'd been paying much attention to. 

“I will give each of you a cookie, then you can feel the perfect match of the two.”Then he picked out another saucer and placed the cookies on it.

There was an already baked cranberry on the top of each cookie and the look of it was quite tasty. 

I gulped half of the cookie and then took a sip of the coffee; there was something of the cookie congenial to that. Sweet of the butter and sour of the cranberry took turn dominating my taste bud. But and then, the crisp fruit flavor of the coffee joined the cranberry to assimilate the sweet butter. To the victory, I had a taste of the juicy tropical fruit, sweet and sour interweaving together. 

“How about it?”He asked.

“It is far from what I've expected. Not the coffee I know. I do appreciate the fruit fragrance. I felt like I can have another lunch.”My friend replied smilingly.

But I could say nothing-- not that I didn't know what to say, but just the taste of the coffee still in my mouth that I would not like to let go. 

“HOW about it? Do you like it?”He seemed quite anxious for a comment on his child.

“The first taste is full of fruit, and then the smell of coffee emerged. But it disappeared fast and flat, only the sour taste lingered, long and loose.”I commented.

I'd been sitting there, aftertasting the long last fragrance of the coffee when he said, “When the coffee gets colder, the taste will become even sourer.”

I believed him, asthe longer I waited, the sourer the fruit in my mouth, and it felt like the coffee bean was trying desperately hard to reach its extreme, to enter the next stage, to become the top sour one on the list. 

No sooner had I finished my last than I realized my friend had ordered the other-- the blue mountain:Fifty Shades of Grey as it was called. 

The boss performed the same process. But this time, he handed me the mug and my friend the glass. 

This one was way darker than the PREVIOUS one. It looked like a coca cola that had been waiting for a drinker that would never come. The first taste of it was just as sour. For a moment I thought they were the same. But then, the second, and third sip proved me wrong, because the fruit taste was gone for good. Only the earthy taste of coffee remained, deep and dark, like the mountain, so solid and firm.  

At last, we finished our visit to the coffee world. As we parted ways, my friend finally gave me the advise which she supposed to give at the very first beginning of our day, “you know, both of them can breathe and brew good coffee so long as the they are good.” 

“What?”

“The beans.”She said jokelessly.

A long pause followed. 

“It will help you grow,”She continued, “Whichever company you choose. The only difference is that the company at which you have interned and from which an offer of job you received is just like the blue mountain--the taste of excitement happened at the beginning but faded for good later. However, the company that you desire but haven’t ventured to apply is like the Sidamo--it is an adventure, sometimes with unknown challenge, but excitement lingers on.”She stared at me this time with the playful look turning away.

 “But you know, both of them are coffee, That's all, for a taste. They are no poison. No matter which you choose, it would not hurt; it merely gives you a taste of different flavor, of life. Life, however, it is all that's about.”

I turned to her, and finally relieved myself from the nightmare that had been bedeviling me for days.