This story starts off similar to my food origin story, with my earliest memories of coffee involving my mother. I have this vague memory from when I was around four or five years old of me asking my mom for my own cup of coffee. I really wanted to try it and drink coffee, just as she did. I apparently did this kind of thing a lot as a kid. My mother has always said that when my late grandmother injured her hip and walked around with a walker and a slight limp, two or three year old me walked around just like her. I’m told I wasn’t mocking her, rather I was just trying to relate to and empathize with her. She and I also shared a lot of common interests when it comes to food, at least what I can remember from then. She loved lemon desserts (especially lemon meringue pie), black coffee, and boiled red snapper hot dogs (Pilgrim brand, if I remember correctly). My mother admits to diluting my coffee with milk and sugar a bit, but I don’t really recall to what degree.