Like is not enough to describe it, it's a love story.
I started young, my parents refused for me to enjoy coffee, but around seven I found a way to steal some of it from my father's cup and without being noticed. I was disgusted by his biterness (my parents always took their coffee perfectly black), but a few years later I wanted to try again, and... the worst happened. Between 9 and 12 years old, the only moments without my parents were during the summer holidays with my grandparents and neither of them wanted to let me drink coffee, however, instead of it my grandmother gave to my brother and I the most filthy and disgusting drink that is: cichorium. The worst culinary experience of my existence, a "taste" that could not be defined so much it was awful, and as if that was not enough, she always put cream in it.
Fortunately, the years passed and one day at the age of twelve, while two of my classes in the morning had been canceled, I decided to go to the bakery at the corner of the alley and to order my own coffee for the first time. Well, not really a true coffee... as it was a cappuccino in which I put a lot of sugar. Almost every day that followed I went to school earlier than before, just to stop taking my cappu' before class, and my parents thought I was doing it as a good schoolboy
Then, as time passed, I stopped putting milk in my coffee and then sugar and finally it is now almost impossible for me to taste a coffee that is not "pure" and black. It's hard to explain, but I love the bitterness of the drink, really.
Just a little story, but it marked me rather well: I was 15 when my uncle, who lived in the Alps, invited me to cross the border and go for a ride in Italy (which was not a first for me at this time). I can't remember the name of this little town, but about fifteen minutes after entering Italy, we stopped at a little bar on the side of the road. I took a long coffee, or americano, and while I drank it, an old man who was looking at me while balancing his head said to me in a rather average French, "You the French you don't know how to appreciate coffee. With so much water in, it must not even have a bit of taste, it's sad... " It made me laugh, but ... he was "right", and since then I always try to enjoy my coffee every morning. Perfectly black, bitter, and strong.
