Morning starts with a quiet ritual for me. I brew a light roast, somewhere between an Ethiopian Yirgacheffe and a mild Colombian. I keep the grounds a bit coarser, let the water hit them gently for about a minute before I press the portafilter. The scent alone steadies my mind. I add a dash of vanilla‑infused honey, just enough to sweeten without overpowering the beans. Then I sit on the small counter, a cup in hand, and listen to the first sip—warm, earthy, with a hint of citrus. It grounds me, and I can carry that calm through the day. No secret sauce beyond listening to the steam and the rhythm of the pour.