Cigarette Smoke and the Aroma of Coffee [What is this story about? Coffee] [Essay]

My memories of coffee go back to my childhood.

During the Showa era, I lived in a rented house near the sea in Tokyo. I remember the house being very small. On weekends, my father would often take me to the zoo and the amusement park.

Strangely enough, the zoo only had horses.

Inside the park, a drunken man with a red pencil tucked behind his ear was reading a smaller-than-average newspaper intently. But I know. I know that newspaper didn't contain politics, economics, or news about incidents. By the way, my father used to read a newspaper called 'Katsuma'.

Speaking of Katsuma, the zoo that only has horses is in Katsushima. And next to Katsushima is Heiwajima. Perhaps conflict and peace are always neighbors.

What is this story about?

When the trumpet music started in the park, the horses would all start running at once. When the horses finished a lap and returned, the men would shout things like 'Go!' or 'Keep it up!'

The treat in the park was the corn dog my father would buy for me. Since the yellow mustard was spicy, I would only apply the red ketchup in a zigzag pattern. The corn dog was delicious even down to the crispy bits near the stick.

The amusement park was in Asakusa.

Admission was free, and my father would buy me a book of 11 tickets for 1,000 yen. You needed a certain number of tickets to ride the attractions, and it was fun to count the tickets while deciding what to ride that day.

However, we couldn't just go straight to the amusement park. Before that, we always had to go to the 'off-track betting office' next to the amusement park. There were many people in the off-track betting office who looked just like the men I saw at the horse-only zoo.

Even though it was an off-track betting office, when we entered the large building, the inside was thick with cigarette smoke. My father smoked cigarettes that had a '7' drawn with many stars on them. While I was standing in line with my father to buy tickets, a heavily made-up woman standing in the next line spoke to me.

'Hey kid. Here, have this.'

I looked up at my father's face to see if it was okay to accept it, and since he nodded, I decided to say 'Thank you' and take it. It was a stick of chewing gum wrapped in brown paper. It had 'LOTTE COFFEE' written on it in English.

'It's coffee gum.'

Coffee? That coffee that people say is bitter? Perhaps reading my expression, the heavily made-up woman spoke to me again.

'It's not bitter. It's sweet.'

I unwrapped the brown paper and the silver foil and put the chewing gum in my mouth. That was my first encounter with coffee. The sweetness spreading in my mouth and the aroma of coffee passing through my nose felt a bit grown-up.

But I knew this taste. That's right, it's the taste of coffee milk. Hmm? Wait a minute. If that's the case, do I need to trace my encounter with coffee back to coffee milk?

I wasn't good with cold milk.

Whenever I drink cold milk, my stomach gets upset right away. So, my mother would fill the glass halfway with milk and then fill the other half with coffee milk. With this coffee milk, my stomach wouldn't get upset, and I was able to drink plenty of milk.

Speaking of coffee milk, I'm talking about the bottled coffee milk you find at public bathhouses.

The house I lived in didn't have a bath, so I went to a public bathhouse every day. Sometimes my father would buy me a bottled drink after my bath. I would choose apple juice without hesitation. That's because I could drink coffee milk at home.

I suppose that doesn't matter.

The public bathhouse had a hot spring. However, that hot spring was a jet-black coffee color, and I couldn't see the bottom, so I was too scared to get in. That's why I always bathed in the clear tap water. Looking back now, that was a waste.

What is this story about, coffee?

In the end, my first encounter with coffee was, as expected, the 'coffee gum' I received from a heavily made-up lady outside the Asakusa racecourse.

Even now, whenever I see the revived version of coffee gum at supermarkets and the like, I remember the cigarette smoke and the aroma of coffee from that day.

(The End)

It seems that Konishi Kinoko-san is collaborating with TABBY's COFFEE ROASTER to sell 'What is this story about? Coffee'.

With that said, I wrote an essay related to 'Coffee' for this week's subtitle of 'What is this story about?'.

#OiRacecourse
#Hanayashiki
#WINSAsakusa
#WhatIsThisStoryAbout
#WhatIsThisStoryAboutCoffee
#Essay