twas the roast before xmasWhat can I say. Our next group roasting is the last one for the year and the last roast before Christmas.

If you would like a good supply of coffee over the summer holidays, this Monday, December 1, 2014, would be a good deadline to beat for getting in a coffee order.

I tend to go through more coffee over holidays because I’m around the house more. #JustSaying

In honour of this momentous occasion, I have decided to plagiarise a famous poem. Enjoy.

‘Twas The Roast Before Christmas

‘Twas the roast before Christmas when all through the house,
Not a teaspoon was stirring, not even a mouse.
The coffee spot back in the cupboard was bare,
In the hope that Baristador soon would be there.

The coffee fans nestled all snug in their beds,
While thoughts of espresso danced inside their heads.
And machines in the kitchen and pots on the stove,
All willed the beans closer as the couriers drove.

Then there on the website there arose such a clatter,
That I pointed my mouse to see what was the matter.
In a new window, it arose in a flash,
Coffee orders were closing, so I had to dash.

The pour of espresso, the rich golden flow,
Made me shiver with bliss from my head to my toe.
So I ordered some coffee, five bags to be clear,
For then there’s no charge for the shipping reindeer.

With a twist of my mouse, so lively and quick,
I lifted a burden off of St Nick.
If Baristador blends were all here when he came,
I’m sure Santa Claus could announce them by name.

Now Java, now Mocha, now Blue Mountain mixin’,
On Kona, on Bourban, Harar and French Mission,
Fresh from the roastery, sealed one and all,
Came coffee beans fragrant in bags proud and tall.

And then, in a twinkling, I dashed to the roof,
To search for a sign or some signal of proof.
As I craned with my neck and was turning around,
I saw a red sparkle, some sign had been found.

It was crisp, it was smooth, from its head to its foot,
It was a red coffee bag, covered in soot.
I picked up the bag and I looked on its back,
And I saw a small sticker with what’s in the pack.

The words how they twinkled, the blend sounded merry,
It said, coffee made from the seed of a berry.
It said choose your caffeine, from high down to low,
More flavour, less buzz, that was so good to know.

I opened the bag, tore the top with my teeth,
And aroma encircled my head like a wreath.
I scooped out some grounds, like they do at the deli,
And carefully tamped it like Machiavelli.

It was dark, it was rich, and I thought to myself,
Espresso does help one remember oneself.
A last merry tamp then a tightly packed head,
And the coffee it flowed like the website had said.

I spoke not a word but I started to smirk,
As the warmth and the flavour drove senses berserk.
My lips to the cup, held there under my nose,
So I’d get every atom of aroma that rose.

It danced on my tongue, then it did wet my whistle,
And then it was gone like there’d been a dismissal.
But the flavour it lingered, and whispered quite light,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

– Clement Clarke Moore and Steve Davis