Grandmother didn‘t just like her coffee, and it wouldn‘t really do her justice to say she loved her coffee. Grandmother was to coffee what a sommelier is to wine. She knew the intricacies of coffee, the different tastes and even the textures. And only the best would do for her. No instant coffee, or coffee bought at the grocery store. She had to have fresh coffee, from a respectable coffee shop. “The morning cup of coffee sets the tone for the whole day,” she used to say.
I used to go to Grandmother‘s every Sunday morning. Her routine was always the same. She would kiss me once on each cheek, hang up my coat and lead me into the kitchen, slice a piece of banana bread right out of the oven (sometimes cranberry)， and pour a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
“Alexa,” she said to me one day. “Did you know that every person‘s personality is like a flavor of coffee?”
“Really?” I said, amused at how Grandmotherrelished her coffee so much that she related everything to it.
“Ye” she said. “You, my dear, are French vanilla. You are sweet, almost sickeningly so at times to the discerning coffee drinker.” I slightly recoiled at Grandmother‘s assessment of me. You expect your grandmother to call you sweet, but never sickeningly sweet.
“Your father is espresso,” she continued. “He comes on strong. There are many people who don‘t like him, but others can‘t live without that high feeling that he gives them. He has an addictive personality that many people can‘t let go of.”
“Let me gues Grandmother. You‘re hazelnut.”
“Hazelnut? Why on earth would you say that?”
“Because I find your coffee talk a bit nutty.”
I smiled at Grandmother, but I could tell she was not amused. “Alexa dear, I am trying to teach you a lesson about life here. I do not need you poking fun at me.”
A lesson about life? Is she kidding? “Grandmother, you can‘t dissect a person‘s personality by comparing them to a cup of coffee. People are more complex than that. Everyone has nuance personality quirk things that make them different. You just can‘t go around saying, ‘She‘s a dark roast, he‘s an instant, he‘s a mocha almond.‘”
Grandmother looked at me, almost a blank, dull stare. “Then you just don‘t understand coffee,” she snapped, clearing my plate and coffee cup from the table. “I guess not,” I sighed, exasperated at my hazelnut grandmother.
翻译：
奶奶不仅仅是喜欢咖啡，说句公道话，咖啡是她的挚爱。咖啡对于奶奶而言，就如同美酒对于斟酒侍者一般重要。她对于咖啡的纷繁学问，其不同的口味，甚至其结构特征都了如指掌。而她只喝最好的咖啡，既不要速溶的，也不喜欢从杂货店买的。她一定要喝有名望的咖啡店出售的新鲜咖啡。“清晨的一杯咖啡决定了一整天的基调。”她常这么说。
以前每个星期天的早上，我都会去奶奶家，而她也总会用同样的程序来迎接我。她会在我的两边脸颊上各亲一下，挂起我的外套，然后把我带进厨房，切一片刚出炉的香蕉面包(有时候是蔓越橘口味的)，并倒一杯新煮的咖啡给我。
“阿丽夏，”一天，她对我说，“你知道吗，每个人的性格就像是一种口味的咖啡。”
“是吗？”我说。见到奶奶如此钟爱她的咖啡，以致于将每一件事物都与之扯上关系，觉得挺逗的。
“是的，”她说。“你，我亲爱的，是法国香草味的。你很甜美，对于那些有品味的咖啡客来说，有时甜得都有些发腻了。”听了奶奶对我的评价后，我觉得有点不爽。你当然会希望奶奶说你很甜美，但绝对不希望是甜得发腻。
“你爸爸是杯浓缩咖啡，”她接着说，“他能给人以强烈的印象。有很多人不喜欢他，但也有人离开了他带来的那种兴奋感就活不下去。他有一种让许多人无法放手的致命的吸引力。”
“让我猜猜，奶奶，那您就是榛子口味的。”
“榛子口味？你到底为什么会这么说？”
“因为我发现您的咖啡论挺狂热的。”(双关语，nutty既指带坚果口味，也指对某事狂热。)
我冲着奶奶笑了起来，不过我能看得出她并不觉得这很好笑。“亲爱的阿丽夏，我是想在这里教你一个人生的道理，而不是让你拿我开玩笑的。”
一个人生的道理？她在开玩笑吧？“奶奶，你不可以用一杯咖啡去分析一个人的性格。人要比咖啡复杂得多。每个人都有差别，性格癖好相异，方方面面各不相同。你不可能四处晃晃，然后说：‘她是杯深焙咖啡，他是杯速溶咖啡，他是杯摩卡杏仁咖啡……’”
奶奶用一种几乎是茫然而沮丧的眼神看着我。“这么说，你根本就不懂咖啡，”她厉声说，从桌上清走了我的盘子和咖啡杯。“我想是的，”我叹了口气，对我这个“榛子口味”的奶奶感到有些恼火。
