From the corner cafe, feel the sunshine and the joy of life

I always think that the temperature of a city is hidden in its coffee shops.

Every morning, as I walk through the still-waking street, I always come across that familiar cafe by chance. It has a poetic name, called “Corner”. It stands quietly at the street corner. Inside the huge floor-to-ceiling glass Windows, there are warm, dim yellow lights and dark brown wooden decorations. Through the window, one can faintly see the professional Italian coffee machine behind the bar counter, which glows with a metallic cold light. It is like a silent and reliable commander, commanding the rhythm of the entire space.

Occasionally, I would push the door open and go in. The wind chime on the lintel “jingled”, and a complex and surging wave of aroma followed – it was the interwoven scent of deeply roasted coffee beans, the sweetness of milk, and freshly baked croissants. This fragrance possesses a magical power that can instantly separate you from the hurried and cold world outside the door. I would order a latte and watch the barista skillfully operate that huge machine, grinding the beans, pressing the powder, extracting and making milk foam. The movements are smooth and fluid, full of a sense of professional ceremony. This cup of coffee is a delicate and appropriate pause button bestowed upon me by the city.

However, the cafe is ultimately someone else’s stage. That refinement carries a just-right sense of distance. The wind chime and the soft conversation form the background sound of the public space. When I hold my cup and look out of the window at the hurried passers-by, a thought of wanting to “go back” always quietly arises.

What I’m going back to is that world that belongs only to me, illuminated by the coffee machine in my kitchen.

Pushing open the door, the scene and the state of mind switch simultaneously. The hustle and bustle of the street corner and the public atmosphere of the cafe were completely left behind. On the kitchen windowsill, green plants are stretching out in the sunlight, while in a corner of the kitchen counter, our coffee machine is quietly waiting. It is not as stern and imposing as commercial models. Its lines are more rounded, and the white shell glows with a soft luster in the morning light. It is not a “commander” on the urban stage, but a close “family member” in our family life.

If the aroma of a coffee shop is a surging wave, then the scent of coffee at home is a warm stream. I personally poured the clear water into the water tank, and my wife picked out her favorite Yirgacheffe coffee beans with a fruity acidity flavor. When the beans fall into the coffee machine’s bean bin and make a “rustling” sound, and when the grinding button is pressed and the machine emits a familiar “buzzing”, a sense of security and peace rises from the bottom of one’s heart. This fragrance is not for any customer, but only for our entire family to exude.

This process, without the showy performance of a barista, is filled with the joy and warmth of creating with one’s own hands. I carefully filled and compacted the coffee grounds, and then steadily fastened the brewing head. Press the extract button and watch the brownish-red espresso slowly flow out like honey, forming a thick layer of hazelnut-colored Crema in the cup. Meanwhile, I fiddled with the steam stick, listening to its powerful “hissing” sound, and watching the milk spin and emulsify in the milk jar, turning into a dense and warm cloud.

This is a transformation from “buying a drink” to “creating a way of life”.

Finally, when two cups of lattes with simple heart-shaped patterns were served on the table and the child ran over curiously asking, “Is it sweet today?”, the sense of completeness at home reached its peak. We sat around together, without the sound of wind chimes, only chatting with each other and occasional light laughter. There was no strange background noise, only the crisp sound of coffee cups colliding with plates.

The “corner” cafe at the street corner is my window to enjoy the cityscape. And this corner of my kitchen is the haven where I find peace for both my body and mind. A small coffee machine has opened up a path from the external world to the inner home. It made me understand that a true quality life is not only about seeking and purchasing outside, but also about creating it with one’s own hands.

The sense of ceremony that once only existed in coffee shops and the rich aroma brought by professional machines have now been perfectly and personally replicated into my daily life by this coffee machine. What it brings is not merely a cup of coffee comparable to that in a coffee shop, but also a sense of certainty in taking control of life and a satisfaction in creating happiness for the ones you love.

So, I will still pass by that corner cafe and perhaps stop to admire its beauty. But what I enjoy even more is the most sincere welcome given to me by the waiting coffee machine and the aroma of coffee filling the room when I turn around and push open the door.