Atomic Coffee Musings

The Victorian clock-tower chimes nine, tolling through the mists of rain encompassing the campus. Unaffected, I rest cozy inside a cafe with a mug of hot coffee and a heater beside me. This caffeine hit was a previously discarded idea, it’s temptations crumpled as the waste paper cups it is served in. However, when walking out from the morning lecture a beautiful, rich aroma wafted over. Turning, I hunted out where the wisps of toasted toffee in the air were the strongest, I had to follow my nose.

To my delight, and to my wallet’s dismay, the cafe neighbouring to the 8am Chemistry lecture theatre had switched from it’s usual burnt, but potent!, brand of beans to the glorious taste and tingle of Atomic Coffee roasted beans. At the first slightly sweetened sip, for I knew it’s strength, memory transports me to my earliest taste of this caramelized coffee goodness.

Driving through Kingston, in Auckland several years past, the family was heading off to a destination now forgotten, when at Mum’s sudden order the car was stopped and the parking swiftly paid, for she had spotted coffee and was going to partake, itinerary be damned. As she strode over to the traffic lights and impatiently waited for them to change, we scramble to catch up, none of us caring to complain for these side trips often turned out to be more fun than the intended main event.

Walking into the tiny store, barely bigger than a standard living room the dark wooden walls and chromed accents are absently noted, for the giant black knob-studded iron roaster dominated the room. It’s heat radiated out past the safety glass barrier, behind it the process of drying, roasting, weighing and packaging of the beans clear for all patrons to observe. Such open development was so unique at the time that we were all instantly riveted.

But alas, time waits for no one and we had to leave this alchemic lab of sweet scents and bitter tastes with takeaway coffees in hand. At the first magical sip of the slightly sweetened milky (for I was very inexperienced in black coffee at the time) elixir the pupils dilated, muscles jolted and I literally skipped along the crossing back to the car with a cheerful litany of “Java java java java java”.

That small shop has now become a major franchise, nevertheless, every time I see that black and white logo I take the time to reminisce on that brief moment of familial joy. For me, even if the beans were mortar ground and filter dripped, I would happily drink the resulting brew. For that cup would hold not only coffee, but happy memories as well.