Taste Test

Morgaine sat bent over the Paradise Cafe’s coffee bar, probably making an amusing picture with the way his head was craned to the side, almost touching the countertop. The cafe’s doors were propped open, allowing a breeze to flow through the interior and spreading the aroma of fresh coffee and baking. No imps seemed to have yet made their way up to the Heavenly Embassy, so there was no risk of pests coming in and getting into the food. The afternoon rush had just died down, leaving Morgaine as Beanny’s sole focus for the moment.

Bent sideways, he watched with intent fascination as Beanny poured dollops of foamy milk over a steaming cup of fresh coffee. Some of the milk sank into the coffee, drawing pale trails down to the bottom of the cup, and the rest settled on top. Beanny swirled her wrist, drawing an abstract, vaguely floral shape across the surface of the drink, and then set the pitcher of milk down with a flourish.

“Ta-da!” She said brightly. “Your very own latte art!”

Morgaine straightened up, inspecting the cup of coffee from above now. He’d watched her do this for a couple of customers ahead of him, but he was still impressed with the ease with which she decorated the drinks. He was a deft hand himself when mixing things, but he didn’t typically do such artistic presentation beyond adding decorative picks and such to cocktails.

“If you just sit there and stare at it, it’ll get cold,” Beanny said teasingly. “Try it!”

“Right, don’t mind me. Just admiring your handiwork.” Morgaine flashed her a smile before curling his fingers about the cup’s handle and lifting it to his lips. His first sip was careful, mindful of the temperature of the coffee. “Hoo.” He couldn’t help his face scrunching a bit at the earthy, bitter taste even underneath the sweet foam.

Beanny grinned at him. “Too strong?”

“It is definitely strong,” Morgaine agreed. He took another sip however, and this time was able to pick out the depths of the flavor profile, subtle notes of nuttiness and spice that would be lost if one drank it too quickly. “It’s an acquired taste, but a lot of the finer things in life are,” he added, returning Beanny’s grin after savoring his second taste. “What have you added to the grounds?”

Pleased, Beanny turned to root through the supplies and ingredients stocked behind the counter and came up with the bag of ground coffee she’d used for his drink. Similar bags containing both grounds and whole beans lined the shelf, arranged in a way which looked haphazard to Morgaine, but which Beanny seemed able to navigate expertly, barely even needing to pause and look at what she was grabbing.

“This one’s got notes of almond and nutmeg,” she said, checking the name scrawled on the bag in what was presumably her own looping handwriting. “I call it ‘Cozy Morning’.”

“I think it lives up to the name,” Morgaine said before taking another, longer sip before setting the cup down to let the coffee cool a bit more. “What else have you got back there?”

“Weeeell…” Beanny dragged out the word as she selected another bag of grounds from the shelf. “This one’s new! I put it together specially for the summer. It’s got citrus and cherry flavors, so it’s both sweeter and more tart than most brews. I haven’t decided on a name yet, but I’m thinking something like ‘Seaside Retreat’ or ‘Orchard Blend’... I’m not sure it’s really giving ‘seaside,’ but ‘Orchard Blend’ might be too simple of a name. I need to brainstorm more.” Beanny had a way of talking with her hands, making vague but animated gestures as she spoke. She seemed to catch herself rambling and waved a hand at Morgaine. “Don’t let your coffee get cold!”

“Right, right.” He obligingly took another drink, finding it to have cooled to a pleasant temperature that didn’t need such sparing sips. “Do you come up with and name all of your blends yourself, then?”

Beanny hummed, replacing the bags she’d shown him before withdrawing a couple more to show off. “Mostly I do, yes. I prefer to serve my own creations, you know, or at least my own take on things. But there’s a couple of things I still do that I learned about from others… you know, before.” She jerked one shoulder upward, as though indicating something above their heads.

Realizing after a moment just where and what she meant by “before,” Morgaine simply said, “Ah,” and took another drink, nearly draining his cup. A bit of milk foam clung to his upper lip, and he grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“This one is called ‘Blackout,’” Beanny said, indicating one of the new bags as though the brief, awkward interlude hadn’t happened. “It’s a super dark roast espresso - this is the blend I usually send to Hops for her Iris Coffee recipe, but sometimes I have her test out different espresso blends. Like this one-” She pushed the other bag forward. “This is a lighter roast, called a ‘city roast’. My name for this one is ‘Espressway’ - like ‘expressway’ and ‘espresso’ together, get it?”

Morgaine chuckled into his last sip of coffee before setting the empty cup aside. “That’s a good one. I haven’t tried the Iris Coffee, but I can imagine that you’d get some good, varied mixes with a lighter roast.”

Beanny nodded, clearing the bags away again. “The flavors of a dark roast are stronger and last longer, but they tend to be more uniform. Light roasts let you taste the character of the beans, you know?”

“The character, hm?” Morgaine rested his chin on his hand. “That’s a fun way to think about it.”

“It’s not just for fun,” Beanny said primly, taking Morgaine’s empty cup away as well and taking it to the small sink in the back of the open kitchen area. “That’s really how I think about coffee. I like to experiment and see what kinds of personalities develop when I try different things. It’s why nobody can make coffee the way that I can. It is fun, though.”

“I get you. And your creativity is much appreciated, sugar, don’t get me wrong.” Morgaine tapped the fingers of his free hand on the countertop, bones clicking on the polished wooden surface. He let the quiet settle for a few minutes while Beanny continued bustling about behind the counter, but he finally spoke up again, testing the waters on a question that had been nagging at him for a while.

“You know, I haven’t met anyone who seems very willing to talk about - before,” he said, watching Beanny’s face and body language carefully for a sign that this was an unwanted subject of conversation. “Dove has only mentioned a little to me, and of course there’s Primrose and his rules.” He smiled slightly.

Beanny smiled too, though there was a bittersweet edge to it. “Primrose means well,” she said. “It’s just that he cares more about doing things the way he thinks is best for everyone than how he comes off in trying to do that.” She sighed, picking up a rag and swiping at the countertop. “I think not too many cherubuns want to talk about the Heavenly Meadow because deep down - or not so deep - we’re not that different from Jackal and the succubuns that were raised like her. We’re in Burrowgatory because the Meadow wasn’t as good for some of us as it was for others.”

“That… does line up with what I have heard, yes,” Morgaine said. It was the kind of thing that most buns weren’t necessarily eager to divulge, but the secrecy of it made it hard to resist prying about the overall situation, if not personal experiences. “I don’t get the impression that everyone is running away, though. Primrose, for example, again.”

Beanny shrugged. “For him, I think it might be more of a… something like a pilgrimage. A lot of buns are running, though. On the lighter side of things, just running from boredom. On the heavier side… well, you can imagine.”

“Somewhat. Like you said, it’s not that different from the ones Gremory took - it’s something that those of us with a better upbringing can’t relate to.”

“Oh? You think I wasn’t raised well?” Beanny planted her hands on her hips in mock offense.

“That’s not what I meant.” Morgaine waved a hand as though to clear away the implication, though it was more sheepish than defensive. “I suppose what really interests me is that it seems like so many cherubuns came here for different reasons. With Jackal and the others, they seem more aligned.”

“Well, you’re probably right about that. It’s easier to agree that you were unhappy when everyone knows it and can see it. It’s harder when it comes from a place that was meant to be so nice. We all had to figure it out and make our way at our own pace. Dove stumbled into it, and I’m sure Primrose made his decision after a whole lot of thought.”

“And you?” Morgaine prodded.

“Me?” Beanny flashed a smile that was all teeth. “Honey, I jumped.” She swept away, leaving Morgaine a few moments to let that sink in, and returned with a small plate bearing a slice of coffee cake. “Here, you’ve gotten me rambling again. Try this and let me know what you think - all of this deep stuff is distracting, I’m supposed to be at work!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Morgaine said, waving his words away once more before picking up the fork she brought him and spearing part of the cake. He couldn’t entirely regret it; free things always tasted better.