If I could go back in time to put my arm around Marilyn Monroe while she sipped Irish coffee, I would, and enjoy every nanosecond ’til the cops arrived.
Let’s call this Coffee Confession # 981.
Not unlike the drinking game “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon”, connecting the dots between coffee, writers, sailors, beachcombers doesn’t require plotting tools and a chart. The course is direct and the distance short. Right up until you add the Irish.
I wish I would have been there when Irish Coffee was invented. I could easily imagine it happening at a 4:00 a.m. Waffle House when one person said to another “It’s late, we better call it a night” and reached for cream and sugar as the other said “It’s too late to call it a night. I have to be at work in an hour” so reached into a pocket to bring out a pint.
Or had someone gotten up early to go fishing on Day #1 of vacation? Perhaps it started then.
Either way seems legit. There’s countless possibilities. But, fact is, it came to life when a flying boat left Ireland in the 1940s. My links will make you “woke” (on this matter at least). And one has the official Irish Coffee recipe versus the unrefined one used on Pineapple Hill (Brazilian dark roast in a styro cup with Kentucky Gentleman at sunrise).
Author of Blue Rubber Pool
Surf Director at Pineapple Hill