My first experience with espresso, where I ordered it and paid for it, happened during a trip to Europe as I returned home from my year in Ukraine. My friend and I visited Rome and were leaving to head to Pisa before making a quick trip back up to Paris to meet another friend. I don’t remember if I wanted to try espresso because it seemed an Italian drink to experience or if I thought I might need the caffeine. Still, I went to an open-air café, bellied up to the bar and ordered an espresso. I received the small cup with the goods and sipped. . .I wanted to spit it out. It was awful! I had no idea why anyone actually liked the stuff.
About two years later, as I worked with graduate students at Vanderbilt, I made another attempt. Fido was the hip coffee shop in Hillsboro Village and some of the grad students visited it religiously. I ventured out one evening and got the Pink Poodle – an outrageously large (and fluffy pink) latte with plenty of sugar. I had finally found a way to drink espresso, though I still preferred Mr. Pibb to a latte any day.
My coffee tastes and explorations changed little as I moved to do my own graduate degree in New Jersey, though I joined friends at local shops here and there. When I moved to Berkeley to work with college students again, my appreciation of fresh foods and expertly roasted coffee grew. With Peet’s and the influence of Alice Waters, I continue to associate lattes (especially served in a large bowl) with a truth-telling, unifying and inspiring time of my life.
After marriage, I started trying all sorts of diets – more to find the perfect collection of foods which would strength and nourish J and me, not to try and lose weight or sculpt my body in some way. In Kentucky, we fell under the influence of the Whole 30, and by that time, coffee was a staple of the morning and sometimes the afternoon (but with lots of cream). Dairy is forbidden on the Whole 30, so I started drinking coffee black. I immediately returned to half and half when we ended our reintroduction phase. I will still occasionally drink coffee black, but really, coffee continues to be a conduit for lush, frothy warm half and half.
Now, approximately 25 years after that first espresso in Rome, I have a growing intolerance of caffeine - another gift of “the change.” If I have nothing to do, I drink coffee and lattes with abandon, but I notice. I notice I do not feel at ease come bed time. I can still sleep, but I don’t sleep well. I’m a little more cranky and irritable. I don’t have patience for much foolery.
So I’ve started limiting my coffee intake when I am working. I allow myself a (large) cup for 3 out of 7 days, usually the weekends, but the other days are caffeine free. I find myself tired by bedtime. I sleep incredibly, and I wake up with energy. My mind clears and my mood remains steady (or at least steadier) as I work through the day. I’m a kinder, gentler human.
If I have really been hitting the coffee on my time off, I have headaches and brain fog for the first couple of days, but J and I drink 75% decaffeinated coffee now, so the withdrawal is minimal. If you try this route, I suggest getting decaf prepared by the Swiss water method – the beans still taste excellent and no chemical agents, like ethyl acetate or methylene chloride, touch the beans.
I have other female friends who have experienced this change in caffeine tolerance with menopause. I’ll have to see if anyone has figured out why tolerance decreases, but given how little is researched with menopause, or with women-specific issues generally, I’m guessing no one has cared to investigate. Still, I’m glad a simple fix can improve my sleep, mood and outlook.
But I still love a good cup of coffee, especially shared with J and friends over breakfast.
After all these years, it’s grown on me.
3/30/26
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