Various Flavors of Coffee by Anthony Capella Read Free Book Online Page B

over the table, were so insubstantial that the comparison with a boy was quite apt. Half closing my eyes, I mentally compared her with various whores I had been with, and was thus able to create a sort of composite image of her unclothed body, a pleasant reverie which Emily might well have taken for studious concentration.
    Just then Pinker came back into the room and found me looking at his daughter. He must have been able to guess what was go-ing through my mind.
    “Does the work progress?” he said sharply. “Is Mr.Wallis proving industrious, Emily?”
    Now, of course, was the time when the least hint from her would have had me thrown out. Inwardly I cursed my recklessness. I needed that advance, particularly after the inroads I had made into it the previous night.
    She gazed at me coolly. “Mr. Wallis is progressing quite well, Father.Though not as rapidly, I believe, as he would like. I fear my girlish chatter has been a distraction.”
    “On the contrary, Miss Pinker has been an inspiration,” I said
    smoothly. “As Beatrice was to Dante, or Maud to Tennyson, so is Emily Pinker to the Wallis-Pinker Guide.”
    Pinker’s eyes narrowed.“Very well. Perhaps,Wallis, I might help you cup your first sample.”
    “There is no need,” I said airily.“Jenks has already explained the principles.”
    “I shall observe, then.”
    He took up a position next to the door, arms folded, and watched me as I measured the beans, ground them in a handmill, and added the hot water. I waited exactly two minutes by my watch, then pushed the thick, foaming crust of grounds to the bot-tom with the spoon. I was not as practiced as the secretary had been, however, and when I lifted the spoon, the liquid was still thick with tiny grains of coffee. I put it to my lips anyway and tried to slurp it in the same manner that Pinker and Jenks had done, pulling in a quantity of air along with the hot liquid. The inevitable and immediate result was that I choked, spluttering coffee all over the table.
    Pinker roared. “My dear Wallis,” he cried, “you were meant to taste it, not to spray it like a surfacing whale!”
    “A catch in the throat,” I said, or rather croaked, when speech was possible.“My apologies. I will try again.” I was very embarrassed. Again I tried to slurp the coffee as I had seen others do, but it was harder than it looked: this time I managed to keep the liquid in my mouth as I coughed and choked, but it was a close thing.
    “Emily, my dear, I fear your new colleague will be unable to speak for the rest of the morning,” Pinker chortled.
    “That will be no great hardship,” Emily said. Her lips twitched. “At least, for everyone but Mr.Wallis.”
    “Perhaps . . . Perhaps . . .” Pinker wiped his eyes with his fin-ger.“Perhaps his waistcoat will speak for him!”
    Now it was the turn of Emily Pinker to splutter. I looked at the two of them in astonishment. I understood that in some way I had caused them this amusement, but I could not for the life of me understand how. It was true that my waistcoat that day was, like my shoes, a vivid hue of yellow, but even a Limehouse coffee merchant could surely see that it was à la mode.
    Pinker wiped his eyes. “Forgive us, my dear Wallis. We mean no harm. Here, let me show you.There is a knack, which those of us who are accustomed to the thing take for granted. Observe.” He spooned a little coffee into his mouth, slurped it noisily with a kind of gargling motion. “The trick is to aspirate the liquid with the lips and tongue.Aspirate, aerate, and ultimately expectorate.”
    I followed his lead, and this time I managed to control the liq-uid a little more—at least, the reaction of my audience was a little more restrained. Their hilarity returned, however, when I was called upon to master the art of spitting the tasted coffee into the bucket. Pinker demonstrated, efficiently ejecting a thin stream with a pinging sound as it hit the metal, but even before he turned