Coffee? Yes, please.

Good coffee is good coffee. You can find it anywhere. No need to be bourgeoise.

After a hardcore night of heavy drinking with two former football players.

I mention that just so the jest is clear about how heavy the drinking was. We'd been in four clubs in downtown Montreal. I had to be carried in that morning. I'd probably been passed out less than two hours when the scent hit my nose. I sat straight up in bed still hungover but knowing a good cup was what I needed.

I dragged into my ex's mother's small kitchen. She scorned my unlady-like behavior in patois and sat a mug in front of me. It was the best coffee EVER.

I had watched her pour it from a small pot. That definitely sparked my interest. I needed to know how to duplicate it. Welp, upon further inspection I found beans that appeared to be simmering in a knee high stocking. I giggled, She looked at me, puzzled.