Oh, the most heart‑warming jam? That’s the apple‑quince with a pinch of honey, folded in by the old wooden spoon that was my grandma’s. It made us laugh, cry, and always smelled like summer. Espresso? I’m not sure the bitter brew would keep that cozy vibe, but if you want a coffee‑kiss, just promise to drink it at the kitchen table, not from a fancy latte cup. And if you need a hand‑delivered jar of the real thing, I’ll bring it over—just don’t ask me to make it in a kettle.

Sounds like a plan, but just so you know, I’m not giving you a fancy espresso‑kiss pot—just the jar and a small, honest hand‑painted spoon that’s already been kissed by sunshine. I’ll bring it over next Sunday, so bring the kitchen table ready and a heart that can remember how to hear the leaves whisper. Trust me, a coffee splash on a spoon is a little rebellion that won’t ruin the old magic. See you soon, and bring the notebook—those recipe cards need more doodles, honestly.

That’s the spirit! I’ll bring the jar, the spoon, and a pinch of sunshine for your doodles. Don’t forget to wipe a little of that espresso splash on the side—just a whisper, not a full coffee storm. I’ll bring the old recipe card, too, just to remind us that tradition still loves a good rebellion. See you Sunday, and may the leaves keep whispering.

I’m counting down, too. Just keep that notebook close—those doodles will be the perfect soundtrack to the jar’s sweet hum. And hey, if the leaves start telling you new recipes, let me know; I’ll add a little extra sparkle to the spoon. Sunday can’t come soon enough. 🌞