The Coffee Ritual

Autumn has finally arrived, and for most millennials it means rewatching Gilmore Girls and watching them sip endless cups of coffee, thinking: “It’s humanly impossible to drink that much coffee.”

True, it is... but not for my mother, who easily beats them.

And her coffee isn’t even American, but the classic Italian espresso.

I dare anyone to find an Italian who doesn’t have memories tied to coffee. My sweetest ones go back to my childhood mornings, when I still lived with my parents: ever since I was little, the first coffee of the day was always accompanied by the sound of the moka pot and its aroma filling the house, even before I opened my eyes. Footsteps in the kitchen, a cupboard opening, water running, filter, a small mountain of coffee, the moka screwed tight, click click… and a few minutes later, that smell that wrapped around you.

Every gesture was, and still is, done slowly, with care. My mother’s coffee has always been a small personal ritual, a moment of silence and recharge before the house and the world wake up.

Then came another three coffees before 11 a.m., made easier by the pod machine.

My mornings aren’t much different, though for me a good coffee must be softened by milk. There’s no good day without a good cappuccino. I used to drink three or even four before 11 a.m., until my body said “enough.”

Now one is plenty, prepared calmly and with love for myself.

Coffee is not just a beverage: it carries stories, calm, care, and connection.

It’s a ritual of self-care, but also of togetherness. A coffee shared with friends or loved ones becomes time for listening, complicity, and presence.I don’t recommend repeating my mother’s four morning coffees, but the first one of the day, made in a moka pot, of course, absolutely yes. It helps you slow down, greet the day properly, and create small moments that warm the heart.

Because coffee is never just coffee: it’s home, it’s care, it’s a gesture of love, it’s living in the here and now.