Café Cubano Forever | Café Cubano Para Siempre
"A coffee ritual becomes the foundation of a lifelong love between two Cuban-American women"
Café Cubano Forever
Café Cubano Para Siempre
The cafecito was how we met, how we fell, and how we stayed.
"Too sweet," she said of my first attempt.
"That's how it's supposed to be."
"I know. I just wanted to see how you'd react."
Her name was Lourdes. Third-generation Cuban-American. Abuela's coffee recipe memorized since childhood.
"Make it for me," I challenged.
"Only if you admit mine's better when I'm done."
"That's arrogant."
"That's confident. Different thing."
Her coffee was better. I admitted it. She gloated for a week.
"Now teach me," I demanded.
"Teach you what?"
"How to make it like that. So I can return the favor."
The lessons became dates. The dates became more. The coffee became us.
"Every morning," she said. "We make this together. Promise."
"Every morning forever?"
"Forever isn't long enough, but we start there."
We've made café cubano together for twenty years now. Every morning. No exceptions.
"Why did we promise this?" I ask sometimes.
"Because we knew. Even then. That this was everything."
Our children make it with us now. The recipe passed down, the ritual expanded.
"To café cubano," we toast.
"To forever," she adds.
Café cubano forever—where one small cup holds an entire life of love.