Your parents' coffee (or tea)

[Scotto]

Food aromas and tastes become ingrained in our memories deeper than almost anything. What do you remember of your parents' coffee/tea tastes and rituals?

For me it was the percolator. That (currently) much-shunned appliance formed a good part of my childhood memories. The sounds and smells from that continually re-boiled coffee was part of nearly every morning and evening from the time I was in junior high until I left home. I remember distinctly when I was allowed to start drinking coffee with my parents and how grown up I felt. To this day when I visit my family my mother whips out the same decades-old percolator and makes us coffee. It doesn't have much resemblance to what I drink for myself these days, but that bitter brew of Martinson canned coffee brings a smile to myself every time.

 

[Vlad]

Every time I go to my dad's house it's the same coffee in the same pot for 15 years: Folgers. Sickly-sweet, too. If it's winter, it never fails to remind me of our ski trips.

I've taken over freshly ground, good coffees, and he hates them!

 

[BrianL]

Folgers, and one teaspoon of coffee to one teaspoon of water with a little whole milk. You only needed one cup to get going in the morning.

 

[DFrancis]

Maxwell house when I was growing up. Now without kids and money to spend on himself he buys nicer fresh-roast coffee from a place local to him.

 

[Dr. Jones]

I was raised by my grandparents and every morning the aroma of a pot of Maxwell House, brewed in the original Mr. Coffee, meant another great day was starting.

Brewed coffee in the morning and Sanka or Taster's Choice instant at dinner or in the evening for them.

 

[mr_economy]

I don't remember my parents' coffee nearly as much as I remember my (maternal) grandparents'. My grandpa always had a pot full of coffee at the ready, although sometimes it would sit for hours cooling until it needed to be microwaved. Always served in small turquoise or white coffee mugs.

 

[Navig8tor]

Growing up we used to have breakfast at our grandparents house. Both my parents worked and we lived next door to my grandparents so it wasn't far or anything.
My grandmother always had the coffee perking and the kitchen always smelled like it. Summer or winter it didn't matter. Because they said the caffeine would help my asthma I was able to start drinking coffee around 8 yrs old. At first I didn't like it but drank it because the other kids weren't allowed. Now I love it and drink it just like my grandmother did. Hot ,strong and black as night.
So whenever I smell strong coffee I think of my grandmother.

 

[mouscacha]

Thank God my mother has taste. Only problem was that we were closer to poor than rich. She had budget costco coffee (whole bean), and she would grind it at home in batches with those blade grinders. That was loud!!! Coffee is always black, and the pot is filled to 7 cups (yes, just for her). For her mother's day gift a few years ago, I bought her a capresso conical grinder. Probably one of the best presents yet. It even trumps the kindle I got for her! Yes, I'm a momma's boy My poor wife....

 

[netsurfr]

Maxwell House or Folgers coffee. Lipton tea bags for iced tea.

 

[SilverToy]

A percolator and Maxwell House on a campfire at the old cabin at Kenai Lake, Alaska growing up…

Now I’m a little home sick…

 

[Straight Arrow]

As a small child in the early 1960s I remember sitting on my mom's lap and begging her to her let me throw the tiny white saccharine pill into her fresh steaming cup of percolated coffee. By the time I was 6 or 7 she was letting me have a sip and I was from then on a genuine coffee lover. The saccharine has gone the way of DDT but I still own a percolator and it has a permanent place in my coffee arsenal.

 

[Jim]

Great thread Scotto-

I have a very strong memory of sitting in my grandmothers kitchen at her yellow Formica table with chrome trim. Intently watching the vacuum pot for the magic to happen.
The smell of Horn and Hardart coffee and frying bacon filling my senses.

The sun streamed through the south facing windows.

 

[Sluggo]

This is a great thread. My story relates to my grandfather (he was my hero, you know, the guy you look up to the most). We have an old log cabin camp in the woods of northern Michigan, and we swould drive up there together from Atlanta. It was a great trip.

I remember waking up at camp (there was no indoor plumbing or electricity) to the sounds of him making homemade biscuits and frying bacon...and on the stove, in the perculator, was maxwell house with a small amount of chickory. He would make breafast and coffee and we would sit at the table HIS father built listening to NPR on the shortwave radio.

He passed away almost four years ago, and I miss him every day.

 

[ouch]

Ah, the sounds of my youth.
[YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SC19EOMkDk[/YOUTUBE]

 

[Navig8tor]

As a small child in the early 1960s I remember sitting on my mom's lap and begging her to her let me throw the tiny white saccharine pill into her fresh steaming cup of percolated coffee. By the time I was 6 or 7 she was letting me have a sip and I was from then on a genuine coffee lover. The saccharine has gone the way of DDT but I still own a percolator and it has a permanent place in my coffee arsenal.

I forgot all about those little white pills. I love that they came in a little glass bottle. My grandfather used to use 3 in his coffee. My grandfather was my hero growing up. He could fix anything (at least I thought so) and he always had time for me. One of my favorite pictures of my childhood is from my 4th birthday. I am sitting next to my grandfather and we are both wearing sleeveless undershirts (called wife beaters now). I look like a little old man, which I am slowly becoming.

One of my grandfather's summer rituals was to sit in the kitchen and have a beer while playing solitaire after my grandmother had gone to bed. For some reason if he had to pee he would not go upstairs but would go out to the end of the yard behind the shed. When I was 4 I thought that was great so I started peeing out there all the time. It finally stopped when we were leaving church one day and one of the neighbors mentioned it to my mother. Needless to say she was not pleased with either of us. It's a crazy memory but I find a lot of men understand the urge to pee outside. Somehow women don't get it.

 

[benvh]

My mom always made Folgers in her percolator. I think my grandma did too. My grandpa was always happy when he visited and my mom had the coffee on. He said grandma made it too weak. The strong stuff would "put hair on your chest" and possibly "turn your hair red."

Nice thread!

Ben

 

[mouscacha]

It's a crazy memory but I find a lot of men understand the urge to pee outside. Somehow women don't get it.

I think they're jealous

 

[Will P.C.]

My mom always drink the generic store brand diet hot chocolate packs.

 

[Sullybob]

I drank a lot of coffee with my Grandfather. It was Folgers in a stove top percolator. Years later he switched to an electric drip coffee maker and retired the percolator to camping use.

 

[California Cajun]

Food aromas and tastes become ingrained in our memories deeper than almost anything. What do you remember of your parents' coffee/tea tastes and rituals?

For me it was the percolator. That (currently) much-shunned appliance formed a good part of my childhood memories. The sounds and smells from that continually re-boiled coffee was part of nearly every morning and evening from the time I was in junior high until I left home. I remember distinctly when I was allowed to start drinking coffee with my parents and how grown up I felt. To this day when I visit my family my mother whips out the same decades-old percolator and makes us coffee. It doesn't have much resemblance to what I drink for myself these days, but that bitter brew of Martinson canned coffee brings a smile to myself every time.

Folgers in the percolator. Weak coffee. They were originally from Central Texas where I have found the coffee to be so weak you can see the bottom of the cup when it's full.

I drink the strong Cajun coffee (Mello Joy) in a Black and Decker one cup coffee maker. One year for Christmas my folks gave me a beat up coffee mug that said "Cockeyed Coffee" on it. You know you made it right if the spoon disintegrates when dipped in the cup.