It was probably March, but for sure it was forty-one years ago. A dashing Roman friend gently rapid-fired me a challenge to savor an espresso, either on Via Salaria or near Trastevere, I can’t remember which. I hated coffee and would have none of it in the States. Up until that fateful day, the only hot beverage on my list of preferences was tea. Then in acceptance of his dare, I sipped an espresso in Rome and a life of spontaneity erupted where mundanity had existed.
So today as I searched for the small-enough size of halogen light bulb replacement at Home Depot, I wandered past a display when “Espresso – caffé italiano” caught my attention and smile. How could I not buy the ‘comfort mat’ when I make my espresso now as I have done every morning since that day of awakening in 1973. I may have lost the love of that Roman gentleman, but his challenge has remained that part of him I have been able to keep.