Front Porch: Readers’ responses are the second best part of waking up

My coffee column had percolated for a few weeks before I was ready to spill the beans but the response from readers proved as satisfying as a rich cup of French roast.

Leslie Smith took her first sip of the magical elixir in France.

“I always enjoyed the aroma of coffee growing up but never tasted it,” she wrote. “That changed when I lived in France as an exchange student. I fell in love with café au lait, served in big bowls at breakfast. And after lunch, I enjoyed a tiny cup of espresso in order to function at the lycée in the afternoon! The love affair with Java continues to this day.”

Likewise, Joe Kramarz enjoyed the brew in an exotic locale.

After a hurricane devastated a village in Honduras, he joined a group from Whitworth Church to build cement block homes for the community. Each evening, locals demonstrated some of their traditions.

“One was to make large vats of coffee, freshly roasted by the villagers. The aroma and taste was outstanding,” Kramarz recalled. “The village was in the mountains, and the men and sometimes women picked the red beans and put them into large sacks and placed them on a horse to take them to town.”

Like me, Joann Caputo developed her affection for the brew in college but only drank it black.

“Then, some years later, we lived in England for a while, and I tried white coffee. That was it for me!” she wrote. “Like you, we relied on Folgers or, occasionally, Yuban (if we could afford it). My turning point came when both of my daughters worked at Starbucks for a time after college and brought bags of coffee beans home. Although I still love Starbucks coffee, I love (McDonalds’) McCafe, as well.”

Dick Dodd’s appreciation began in 1958 when he joined the Iowa National Guard and was sent to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, that December.

“Until then, I never drank coffee as I thought it tasted terrible,” he said.

But the bitter cold of a Missouri winter changed his mind.

“Every soldier was issued a metal canteen with a large, metal cup that fitted over it,” Dodd recalled. “It didn’t take long to figure out that the huge cup of coffee made a good hand warmer. I would fill my canteen with hot coffee, put the cup over it, and place it inside the canvas canteen holder that fastened to your ammo belt.”

The warmth lasted for several hours.

“When we came back to base camp at night, I would pour out the cold coffee and get a refill. I’d slide that hot coffee into the bottom of my mummy bag, and it would warm my feet long enough to fall asleep.”

Eventually, he got thirsty when he was out on maneuvers and finally drank the Army-issued brew after adding plenty of cream and sugar.

“(But) for the last 60 years, I’ve drunk it black,” Dodd said. “We have a 12-cup coffee pot, and my wife has one cup in the morning, and I usually empty the pot by bedtime. After 60 years of this behavior, I don’t see any ill effects from consuming so much coffee, so I guess I’ll just continue.”

Sue Eller had a warmer introduction to the beverage.

“My grandfather and grandmother loved their coffee, and I was allowed (probably to my mother’s chagrin) to have a cup of the magical brew when I was only five. It was mostly sugar and cream, but I became enamored of the ritual,” she wrote.

And her fondest memories of her dad involve coffee.

“We lived on a farm, and as more brothers and sisters came on the scene, I had a tough time getting alone time with Dad,” Eller wrote. “He’d get up to milk the cows and before he set out, would brew coffee on the wood cook stove in the kitchen.”

Their coffee pot had lost its “innards,” so her father would pour the grounds directly into cold water. Then he’d set the pot on the stove and let it simmer.

“When he decided it was done, he’d take it off the stove and add cold water to settle the grounds. Finally, he would pour us each a cup, and we would have coffee, toast, and conversation before anyone else in the house was awake,” Eller said. “I’ve been drinking coffee all my life I will continue to imbibe as long as I’m able. Besides, I sleep better after a cup at bedtime.”

Ruby Carney’s Swedish family served coffee morning, noon and night, often with cardamom bread or butter cookies.

“I recall seeing Grandma on occasion sip coffee out of a saucer as a way to cool it faster. She also would sprinkle a bit of salt in her cup, once in a while,” Carney wrote.

Some folks have fancier rituals. Proud Norwegian Toby Johnson owns a 1992 La San Marco espresso machine with the appropriate coffee grinder.

“As I understand what the coffee snobs prefer is that all roasted coffee should be used within 90 days of its roasting date, all opened bags should be used in a week and ground coffee should be used in twenty minutes,” he wrote. “We try hard to stick to those principles.”

Fellow Norwegian David Haugen joined the coffee klatch later in life, but he’s done his research.

“My study shelves have at least a dozen books with coffee titles, and I have clipped and filed 40 or 50 articles from reputable journals reporting the beneficial results of coffee consumption,” he wrote.

Haugen shared tips for making the best brew, starting with freshly roasted beans.

“Of the dozens of accomplished roasters in our area, my top three are: Craven’s followed closely by Peets and 4 Seasons,” he said.

Norwegian ancestry influenced Leslie Olson Turner’s love of Java.

“My mom, being a real-life Mrs. Olson, started buying Folgers, as kind of a tongue-in-cheek nod to the other Mrs. Olson,” wrote Turner.

Turner acquired the coffee habit as a kid in hopes that it would stunt her growth.

“In my prime, I was close to six feet,” she wrote. “I towered over all the other neighborhood kids. I overheard the neighbor lady chatting with my mom about my height, and she joked that maybe I should start drinking coffee to stunt my growth.”

Turner took the idea seriously and began drinking it every morning.

“I’m still tall,” she said. “And I now really appreciate it. But who knows, maybe it worked, and if not for drinking coffee so young, I’d be OVER six feet tall!”

All I know is opening emails from readers is a job perk that provides the second-best part of waking up.

Cindy Hval can be reached at dchval@juno.com. Hval is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories from the Greatest Generation” (Casemate Publishers, 2015) available at Auntie’s Bookstore and bookstores nationwide.