What is coffee, apart from the banal statement that it is a drink?

Timo Frasch

Political correspondent in Munich.

  • Follow I follow

The fact that a separate column is dedicated to him here, and not to tea, beer or orange juice, says a lot, but not everything.

The coffee, not the one at Starbucks, not the one from the hands of a barista, not even the one from the capsule, but the normal one from the jug, holds society together. It is one of the last campfires around which the republic gathers – not in the evening, as in the past, at "Wetten, dass..?", but in the morning, when people are much more equal than at the end of the day.

At night, not all cats are grey at all. If, then in the morning. Half past ten in Germany. Or better yet: half past seven. Everyone is uncombed and unvarnished, in front of everyone the day lies as innocent and as blank as a white sheet of paper.

Almost everyone drinks coffee. If only because anyone can cook it and then call it that. Many also watch morning magazines in the morning. The fact that the presenters have cups in front of them creates a connection to those in front of the TV. They also have cups in front of them. It's not clear what's in the moderators' cups. But you know it. Tea is drunk from smaller, sharper cups. From the big, clumsy only when one is sick and needs to drink herbal tea. But the MoMa presenters are apparently not sick – so they drink coffee, the drink of the healthy.

Drinking it makes you likeable. It is therefore no wonder that Bavarian Prime Minister Markus Söder has chosen coffee cups with Star Trek or Spiderman motifs as his constant companions. Even without imprints, they speak for themselves.

Drinking coffee is more than sitting in front of a campfire. If you grasp the cup with both hands, you receive warmth and give it at the same time. That's what it looks like. This is not yet a solution to the energy crisis, but it is a wonderful metaphor for social cohesion.

Coffee is the force that always creates goodness or at least reminds us of it. It belongs to the inventory of crime novels such as Tatort. There he cushions the typical genre dangers and violence: the coffee that the detectives drink, the coffee that suspects are presented with during interrogation. The fact that only water was left for the DFB leadership in the report before the sports committee of the German Bundestag was undignified. Rudi Völler said: "There is not even coffee here."

Coffee stands for a minimum of humanity, for safety, for beautiful routine. It is not for nothing that a successful podcast is called "Apocalypse & Filter Coffee". A filter coffee machine is the antithesis of disaster. Also the opposite image to the hourglass: Time is running out. The coffee runs through. Lebbe geht weider.

Coffee creates intimacy and community at the same time. Now that the cigarette has almost disappeared from everyday working life, colleagues can hardly meet by chance and chat for a few minutes – except in the coffee kitchen.

Coffee is simple yet complex. He is surrounded by an aura of comfort – and of departure. He pushes up and helps to come down.

Where water and schnapps form the extreme edges, it is firmly anchored in the middle. Those who invite you for coffee owe nothing to themselves or others, but can expect the guests to be back home for dinner. Those who arrange to meet for coffee may raise hopes, but no suspicion, as would be the case with wine or Prosecco, but also with water.

Coffee is the sin of the harmless. And the supposedly harmless. Even members of the ethics council are committed to it, politicians anyway. This threatens to dilute it.

The coffee is strong, with or without milk. But you have to be careful. Its half-life is short.

It may be that cold coffee makes you beautiful. But nothing tastes worse. Because everyone knows how good he could have been minutes ago.

In this respect, every coffee is a reminder to be mindful of the limited time we have together, to enjoy it concentrated.

There is a beautiful song by the Austrian band STS, "Grandfather". It is about the desire to see the dead grandpa again for a few minutes, to speak. Not for a beer, not for a cup of tea, but: for a quick coffee.