a (somewhat silly) confession

I never understood coffee.For years, I tried. Different beans. Different cafés. Friends told me I just hadn’t found the right cup. Patients swore it was their lifeline. And I wanted to see what they saw.But every sip tasted the same to me—burnt, bitter, hollow.Then, while in Verona with my wife Roseann for our 40th anniversary, something happened. I had a sip of her coffee, on a lark. That sip led to a “Ratatouille”moment of flavor.The taste was smooth, the balance precise, the flavor alive. After my entire adult life of being staunchly “not a coffee drinker,”I finally understood.It’s a fun