Coffee Preparation Quotes

Don't buy preground coffee.

We've gone through many different permutations of coffee-making, from grinding our own beans to the regular drip to an iced coffee maker.

I definitely pack coffee if I'm going someplace where it might not be available. When I went to Afghanistan in 2011, I brought a bunch of instant coffee. I didn't need to do that, of course, because army people drink industrial-strength coffee and have it going 24/7.

The coffee in Araku is the best I have had so far.

Making coffee has become the great compromise of the decade. It's the only thing "real" men do that doesn't seem to threaten their masculinity. To women, it's on the same domestic entry level as putting the spring back into the toilet-tissue holder or taking a chicken out of the freezer to thaw.

I hope some day to make you all a cup of coffee. Alright, peace.

The coffee will be ready in a jitney.

You're not really drinking coffee unless you drink it black, don't you think? Oh, no? You like to monkey with it?

Coffee in England always tastes like a chemistry experiment.

On Saturday mornings I would walk to the Flavor Cup or Puerto Rico Importing coffee store to get my coffee. Often it was freshly roasted and the beans were still warm. Coffee was my nectar and my ambrosia: I was very careful about it. I decanted my beans into glass...and I ground them in little batches in my grinder.

Instant coffee is just old beans that have been cremated.

I drink coffee a lot before my games. I take it with cream and sugar.

The first requisite for a good cup of coffee in the morning is to get your wife out of bed.

I hate to admit this but I don't even know how to make a cup of tea or coffee. I can boil a kettle for a pot noodle and I've been known to warm up some food in the microwave.

See, this was why I liked coffee. You couldn’t screw up making coffee. Even the bad stuff was good.

If the coffee can taste so good with nothing else in it, then that's a good cup of coffee.

I drink regular pour-over coffee, black. It's all about the beans. I'm always stocked at home with single-origin coffees from around the world, never more than two weeks old, kept in airtight containers.

I remember my grandmother drying wild coffee berries in the sun, then hulling and roasting them for her own cup of coffee each morning.

And you stagger down to break your fast. Greasy bacon and lacquered eggs And coffee composed of frigid dregs.

I like my coffee light.

After college, I went to San Francisco and worked as a secretary in a reinsurance company. That was a pretty dismal job. It was a real small place. Guys would come in, and they'd sort of stick out their arms like wings so I could take their coats off. They'd tell me, 'Two,' and I'd put two lumps of sugar in their coffee.

Another head - and a black alpaca jacket and a serviette this time - to tell us coffee is ready. Not before it is time, too.

The coffee was boiling over a charcoal fire, and large slices of bread and butter were piled one upon the other like deals in a lumber yard.

Coffee must be treated gently and smoothed out. I hadn't realised it was so temperamental.

Coffee in Brazil is always made fresh and, except at breakfast time, drunk jet black from demitasses first filled almost to the brim with the characteristic moist, soft coffee sugar of the country, which melts five times as fast as our hard granulated. For breakfast larger cups are used, and they're more than half filled with cream. This cafe con leite doesn't re-quire so much sugar as cafe preto-black coffee.