Kingston, Coffee and The Sleeping Dog of Caffeine
I can remember the first time I really got into coffee. It was in my
second year at the University of Guelph. I was 21.
Before this time in my life, coffee was always more of a thing I would
get into if others (usually older than myself) were drinking it. Having
worked years upon years alongside my dad during tax season, I was
introduced to the monster of Tim Horton's at a pre-teen age as there is
a TH footsteps away from his building. He would always order (and
still does to this day) a large double cream. As a teen, trying to find his
way, I followed suit but would end up cringing my way through half
or maybe two thirds of the cup, drinking it back at the office. The taste
of the cream on its own (and not being a coffee drinker AT all) gave
me a bad flavour experience. I always told people, as a teenager,
'coffee is disgusting. I'll never be hooked'.
Enter year two of my BA at the University of Guelph. My housemate
Scott Grasley would always stop in at the Centre 6 TH in the U of G
main building as we often took the bus or walked to campus
together. He had a U of G refillable plastic coffee mug that would
hold about the size of one large TH coffee. It was gold and red with
black writing - the colours of the Gryphons. He told me I should get
one as they were giving them away as part of a contest. I did. Telling
him of my past experience with TH, though, I was skeptical of ever
putting coffee into it.
That's when I learned about the 'double double'. 'Noway!', I thought
- 'Sugar will just make it MORE disgusting!' Boy, was I ever wrong.
It came to pass that I had a hard time, from that year forward, going
to a morning class without a full mug of Centre 6 TH double doubley
goodness. I'm pretty sure I made it too sweet but I didn't care. It
was my morning ritual and save for a few dry spells (and de-toxifying
of the system from time to time), it has never stopped. I have even
contributed to my wife's entering into this ritual. I'm pretty proud.
Today, I would consider myself a coffee connaisseur and I
know that TH can be both addictive and repulsive...but damned if
I still don't bear a deep-rooted love for the double double. I've
bought and ground many kinds - from the corporate whore of
Starbucks to grassroots organic fair-trades to Seattle's Best to
certain Hawaiian blends to Honduran home-grown and very
soon Nicaraguan - Honestly, I've really just scratched the
surface.
Although I think that coffee has contributed to my anxiety at times,
(especially when I was frequenting this mom and pop place near
work that brewed the BC independent 'Kicking Horse 454
Magnum' - yes - the name says it all) I know that it is also a
source of pleasure and that if I am in a good place, mentally, it
can be a definite source of comfort. Back in the fall of 2001,
when I was starting to set out on my own in Kingston, I hit up
the TH on Princess Street (which had just opened that summer)
on a daily basis after scrounging together what little pocket change
I had. It was not only a way for me to enjoy the sugar and caffeine
rushing through my bloodstream, releasing endorphins rapidly,
but it was also a way to start each day and collect my thoughts.
Sarah and I usually start our days, now, with the enjoyment of
a coffee together. Whether we are taking on the beast of the 401
or just sitting in bed watching Ellen, it's a way for us to relax
before the tide of day comes in. Rocket fuel. Nectar of the gods.
Baptist Alcohol. Call it what you will - some of my grandest
memories involve its consumption.
