Irish coffee is a wonderful thing

This week I am working in San Mateo, California, just south of the city of San Francisco.

The multi-million population zone of Southern California is burning, with close to a million individuals and their pets being evacuated, including my family with me in absentia. This will ultimately lead to this being referred to as one of the worst natural disasters of all time in California - perhaps in the states. And people are concerned about earthquakes in the land of the setting sun.

All of this led to my previous stream of consciousness posts, as I had to just let those thoughts go last night.

Tonight, with an improved situation at home, some of my friends and I went in to the city for dinner. We had a nice dinner at a place called Cioppino's by Fisherman's Wharf because it was near our ultimate destination of the Buena Vista Cafe. We didn't go into town to have dinner. We went into town to have Irish Coffee.

If you ever go to the city by the bay, you must go to the BV. Irish Coffee was introduced to the United States in this quaint, smallish, friendly bar sitting on the corner where the cable cars are spun by hand to head back down Hyde Street. Don't eat dinner there; eat breakfast if you must eat anything. But whether you choose to eat or no, you can't leave without having their wonderful signature creation.

Watching the preparation is almost as enticing as finding your way to the bottom of the glass.

The glasses are lined up along the bar, sometimes as many as 2 dozen at a time or more. As needed, they are filled with warm water so as not to shatter when the hot coffee is poured in.

Pour out the water, drop in two sugar cubes and add coffee. Stir til the granules dissolve in the developing concoction. Contribute the appropriate amount of Bushmills. (I suppose you could use other Irish Whiskey(and I believe they use their own branded version now), but when I first witnessed the ritual years ago, it had to be Bushmills.) Top with heavy cream, blended to a froth, not peaks, and gently poured over a spoon and floated atop.

To drink this divine creation is to enjoy comfort food in a glass. Meatloaf has nothing on Irish Coffee.

Our bill settled, it appeared that we were about to leave. I commented that it would be a first for me - going to the BV and drinking only one. I can't count the times I've been. The first would have been back in the early 80's in one of my previous lives. My mates took pity on me. They noticed the downcast look; the utter despair on my brow.

The non-imbibers had the sense to leave then, while the rest of us were left to sink into our heavenly, caffeine injected alcohol abuse.

We just had one more, but really, that's all I needed. One just isn't enough. It may be months, perhaps years til I return. How could I possibly be expected to survive on one Irish Coffee for all that time. Patently, unmistakably, I could not.

You know... I think I've got some Bushmills in the pantry at home...