A Brief Defense of Midgard's Coffee

I have drunk mead in the halls of gods.

I have attended feasts held by kings, warriors, giants, and on several unfortunate occasions, Loki.

I have consumed things brewed from honey, grain, fruit, herbs, and substances I was specifically advised not to ask about.

So understand that I do not offer the following praise lightly:

Midgard has done remarkably well with coffee.

You take a small green seed from a fruit.

You roast it until it is nearly burned.

You grind it into tiny pieces.

Then you pour hot water through it and drink the resulting black liquid because apparently waking naturally was deemed insufficient.

This is madness.

I approve.

The First Cup

There is a particular honesty to coffee that I appreciate.

Mead invites celebration.

Ale invites another ale.

Coffee looks you directly in the eye and says:

You have things to do.

There is no ceremony required. No feast. No drinking song. No boast before the assembled hall.

Although I have found that shouting “ANOTHER!” while holding out an empty mug produces mixed results in Midgardian coffee shops.

Your customs remain confusing.

You Have Gone Too Far

I do have objections.

You have taken a perfectly respectable beverage and begun adding increasingly absurd things to it.

Cream is acceptable.

Sugar, if you must.

Cinnamon shows promise.

But then someone discovered flavored syrups, whipped cream, caramel, chocolate, cold foam, sprinkles, and cups large enough to serve as defensive fortifications.

At some point you are no longer drinking coffee.

You are eating a cake through a hole in a lid.

I am not necessarily opposed to this.

I simply believe we should call things what they are.

The Verdict

Midgard has produced many things since my last extended visit.

Some are baffling.

Some are unnecessary.

Several beep incessantly for reasons nobody seems capable of explaining.

But coffee?

Coffee may remain.

Especially in the morning.

Thor of Asgard
God of Thunder. Coffee enthusiast, apparently.