Mrs Bradley Cooper Archives – Lisa Scottoline

By Lisa Scottoline

Mommy has a new wish.

Besides Bradley Cooper.

We’re talking coffee.

And I’m on a quest.

I know, some people climb Everest.

Others cure cancer.

But all I want is a delicious cup of coffee that I can make myself, at home.

Is that so much to ask?

Evidently.

Right out front, I have to confess that I love Dunkin’ Donuts coffee.

Sometimes I’ll have Starbucks and other times Wawa, but my coffee soulmate is Dunkin’.

We’ve been together longer than either of my marriages combined.

Daughter Francesca likes to tell the story of the time we were watching television and a Dunkin’ Donuts commercial came on, and I whispered, “I love you, Dunkin’ Donuts.”

Okay, that’s embarrassing enough.

But then Francesca tweeted that to Dunkin’ Donuts, and Dunkin’ Donuts tweeted back:

“We love you too, Lisa!”

OMG!!!!!

Anyway, you get the idea.

So I stop by Dunkin’ Donuts whenever I can and I also pick up a lottery ticket. When I lose the lottery, at least I’ve had a great cup of coffee, which makes me almost as happy.

You’re supposed to be able to make Dunkin’ Donuts at home, and I have a Keurig coffeemaker, so I bought the Dunkin’ Donuts K-Cups and did the whole Keurig thing, but it wasn’t the same as the real thing.

And unfortunately, I developed almost a superstitious belief that a cup of great coffee is essential to my writing process. I’m not the first writer to believe that a beverage is essential to great fiction. Ernest Hemingway had booze, but I have caffeine. And when my good luck charm is on shaky ground, I fear my books will start to suck, and Mrs. Bradley Cooper can’t have that.

So I decided that I would give up on making Dunkin’ Donuts at home and try different types of coffee. I understand this is called being flexible, but it’s not something that comes easily to me.

Nor should it.

One of the great things about being single is that you never have to compromise anything, and I wasn’t looking forward to compromising my one and only vice.

Nevertheless, I decided I should go back to basics, namely percolated coffee. I admit this was probably nostalgia-driven, because I remember the days when Mother Mary perked coffee on the stovetop, brewing Maxwell House from a can, but I couldn’t find a stovetop percolator and had to settle for a plug-in, and I thought I could beat Maxwell House, so I got myself to the grocery store, where I stood before a dizzying array of types of coffee, coming from everywhere around the globe, including Africa, Arabia, and the Pacific.

This was coffee with frequent-flier mileage.

Likewise there were different kinds of roasts – light, dark, French, Italian, and Extra Dark French, which sounded vaguely racist.

I went with medium Italian, because that’s basically what I am.

Then I had to choose the “body” of the coffee, which evidently meant “the weight of the coffee on your tongue.”

Everywhere you look, body issues.

Again I chose the light-to-medium bodied, ground it at the store, brought it home, perked it, and it sucked. I persevered for another week, but I couldn’t do it. I decided to throw out the baby with the coffee water and went back further to my roots to buy a little Italian Bialetti espresso maker, perked on the stovetop. But that meant I had to go back to the grocery store and start all over again, since the new coffeemaker required the moka grind, which is not even a word.

I brought the coffee home, perked it, and took a sip.

It sucked, too.

Or maybe I suck at flexibility.

So now I don’t know what to do.

I’m taking any and all suggestions.

And I have a novel to finish.

Tell me how to make a great cup of coffee.

The future of literature depends upon it.

Also my job. I’ll split the Powerball with you.

By Lisa Scottoline

I was in New York and something great happened!

Let me explain.

I was there last weekend visiting Daughter Francesca, and we did a million things, including go to the Javitz Center to Meet the Breeds, a dog show where you can see dogs of all varieties, and pet them and kiss them.

Of course, we have dogs at home that we can pet and kiss.

So God knows why we paid thirty bucks to pet and kiss other peoples’ dogs, but there you have it.

We love dogs.

It was a great time, then afterwards Francesca had somewhere else to go and I went back to the apartment to watch the Eagles in the NFC playoffs, which I did with Flat Bradley, a cardboard cutout of Bradley Cooper.

It’s way more fun than it sounds.

And we won!

I mean the Eagles.

I also won, because Flat Bradley is the perfect man for me.

He doesn’t expect dinner and he doesn’t want my money.

And the sex is great.

You can follow along on my social media, where I post all the pix.

Except for the ones that are NSFW.

Back to the story.

The whole weekend, I was taking cabs and whipping out my credit card left and right. The day I packed to leave, I was missing my American Express card.

I had no idea where I lost it.

Before I go further, let me tell you that the last time I lost a credit card, I was also visiting Francesca in New York City. It was my Visa card and it dropped out of my pocket as I walked along the Hudson River. I cancelled the card, but later that day, a woman emailed me through my website to say she’d found it!

I love New York!

After that I vowed to never carry a credit card in my pocket.

Now I carry my credit card in my wallet.

But I manage to lose it anyway.

I know.

I’m amazing, right?

I’m Queen of Unforced Errors.

The proof is that I got married a second time.

Anyway to return to the story, I was walking to get a coffee before I called the credit card company, and I walked in the door of the coffee shop, it struck me that I had been here two days ago.

So I took a chance and asked the barista, “By any chance, did I leave an American Express card here?”

And the barista asked, “What’s your name?”

I did not answer Mrs. Bradley Cooper, even though I have the mug that says so.

I answered, and he said, “Yes, you left your card!”

And he handed it to me!

What?

Amazingly, I’ve lost a credit card in New York on two occasions and both times, New York gave me the card back!

What a city!

And that morning I walked to the car, carrying my coffee and Flat Bradley.

You think New York has seen everything?

It’s hasn’t.

On the sidewalk, every head turned.

Drivers in cars pointed and laughed.

Yes, I had a walk of shame with a cardboard celebrity.

And we’ll be watching the Super Bowl together, me and my corrugated man.

Go Birds!

Column Classic: Perking Up

Heavy Petting

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