Baker's coffee; How times have changed

When Matt and Shelly Sehnert opened the Bieroc Cafe in McCook they installed a new coffee system for the coffee shop.

It is really quite wonderful. The beans for the "Pure Columbian" coffee are ground just at the time of brewing the pot of coffee. The aroma of the freshly ground beans is very enticing. And, the brewed coffee goes immediately into insulated thermos pots, from which it is dispensed with a pump. The idea is that there is no chance for the coffee to scorch in a glass pot on a warmer.

Of course there are many choices of coffee. One can choose between Columbian, which is quite strong; regular coffee; brewed decaffeinated coffee; and one flavored coffee which changes each day. In addition one can choose espresso drinks, cappuccinos or lattes, hot or cold, complete with a dollop of whipped cream and shaved chocolate on top. Such a variety of choices. Tsk! Tsk! How times have changed.

Before the end of World War II the idea of a coffee break was not well known. Efficiency experts had not yet shown us that workers perform more efficiently if they have a little break mid morning and mid afternoon. And Madison Avenue ad men had not yet helped Juan Valdez, of the South American Coffee Association, convince the American public that a little shot of caffeine twice a workday was just the thing to boost morale, boost productivity (and boost coffee growers' profits).

In pre-war Plainview, where I grew up, productivity was not a problem. There was so little business during the week that coffee was more needed as a stimulant to stay awake between customers. Any break by employees was looked at as a privilege rather than a right.

This is not to say that workers and business owners did not visit the cafes at various times a day. There was a good bit of business negotiated between interested parties over a cup of coffee at the cafe or a soda at the drug store. (One fellow, who worked at the bank, slipped out to the Corner Cafe each afternoon for a double Bromo-Seltzer, which he consumed without a word to anyone, in the briefest amount of time, then hurried back to the bank, presumably cured of his "banker's headache). But the ritual, known as "The Coffee Break", was not prevalent in pre-war Plainview.

My Dad, Walter, was a lover of coffee. Not a connoisseur of fine coffee. He just liked coffee. It was his passion, his key to sociability. He welcomed any salesman who would suggest that they go out to the cafe for a cup of coffee. In those days of specialized service, the bakery did not sell coffee, nor did the drug stores, or the service stations. Coffee was strictly a restaurant item.

Walter's stops for coffee (and chit chat) generally followed his delivery schedule, and while he would not be able to have coffee at each stop each day, sometime during a week he would have coffee at each restaurant. He especially liked to sit at the counter and within 30 seconds would be engrossed in conversation with whoever was seated at the next stool.

Over the course of years, in this way he became well acquainted with truckers, who carried cattle and grain along Highway 20, tourists, farmers and early risers, businessmen, and teenagers who gathered after school at the Drive-In. Coffee was the always just an excuse for conversation.

One waitress, familiar with Walter's coffee habit, and his subsequent reliance on Tums told him one time that she had written this epithet which she thought might be used for his tombstone: "Here lies a man who drank 45,000 cups of coffee in his lifetime and it never bothered him a bit. It was number 45 thousand and 1 that did him in!" He merely laughed and asked for a refill.

Bakers are notorious for their consumption of coffee. There is something about working nights, away from the telephone and contact with people that increases one's reliance on coffee.

Bakers' Coffee before the war was a vile product. It was made in a near gallon can over an open gas flame. The can was filled almost full with water, then coffee grounds were sprinkled on the top (never measured), and the mixture brought to a boil. Usually the coffee boiled over. To settle the grounds several methods were used. Some thought that simply putting a dash of cold water on top would settle the grounds. Some preferred to use egg shells, some a whole egg. None of these methods worked very well and those first cups of coffee were decidedly chewy.

Still those first cups from the coffee can were the best. After that the procedure was to add more coffee grounds to the can and refill the can with water. By the end of the shift, there would be a couple of inches of coffee grounds and egg shells on the bottom of the can and a rather thick liquid on top. One time a salesman came to the bakery to take my Dad to breakfast. We were very busy so the salesman suggested that they just talk while Dad worked, and asked for a cup of coffee for himself. I got him a cup from the can on the stove. He thanked me and casually took a sip from the cup while he conversed. Immediately there was a violent reaction. "Phooey, that's not coffee. That's battery acid. That stuff could remove paint!" They always went out for coffee after that.

Bill Guthman was the clean up man at the bakery during the war. Bill had been a merchant in Plainview for many years, but during the Depression he had lost his store and in his latter years made his living doing odd jobs around town.

He was a very congenial man and scrupulously honest. He also loved to visit, and once he engaged you in conversation, it was hard to get away. He delighted to tell of his days in the Spanish American War when he helped Teddy Roosevelt defeat the Spanish in Cuba. There had been some skirmishes of quite heavy fighting, but what he remembered the most were the primitive conditions that the Cubans endured. He always managed to insert the comment, "Do you know, they don't know what ice cream is in Cuba!"

One day my Mother stopped at the bakery on her home from teaching school. When she came through the back door Bill asked her if she would like to join him for a cup of coffee. She agreed and went to the front for cookies. When she returned Bill had poured them each a cup of coffee. Something about the liquid in the cup made her suspicious.

"Why Bill, did you just make a pot of coffee?" "Oh no, Mrs. Sehnert, I just warmed up the can of coffee that the bakers left from last night. Perfectly good. No need to waste it."

Of course Mom did not want to hurt Bill's feelings, but the only way she was able to drink even a little bit was to use the pretext that she had to cool down the hot liquid with an ample addition of cold water. As soon as she could gracefully excuse herself she left the bakery, most of her coffee still in the cup. Mom did not believe in wasting anything, and was a great proponent of recycling. But this was too much, even for her.

That was one time that she was forced to go against her tenet, "Eat It Up, Wear It Out, Make It Do."