Buffalo Trace Distillery in Kentucky, the source of my favorite bourbons. A gift from a friend I have never met. The extra big handle is suitable for drinking with gloves on... even lined gloves. The capacity allows for less time in transit to and from the coffee pot, and more time on the job. Good drinker, if a bit imposing due to its massive size, towering above rivals. Kind of like my dad.
COFFEE: Barrett's Colombian Supremo: roasted on Thursday, shipped on Friday, delivered on Saturday, ground and brewed on Sunday. It doesn't get a whole lot fresher than that.
NOTES: I began drinking coffee when I was about eight years old. I'd get up early and go into the kitchen with my dad, Harry C. Summer, Jr. He'd be sitting at the breakfast table, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette (the former a habit I'd quickly adopt, the latter a habit I never took up, but one that took my dad's life prematurely).
My dad was many things, some good and others not so. He was a farm-boy, a varsity football star, a WWII veteran (USAAF), an entrepreneur (grocer, real estate broker, nurseryman), a cowboy, and a man of real faith in Jesus Christ.
Happy Fathers Day, Dad. I love you. I miss you. And I thank you for being just who you are, and for imparting to me the thing of first importance. It's a man's job.
Harry Clifton Summer, Jr. 1918-1995