It was in my teen years in early-1980s Greeley that I began to devour the beverage with vigor. I would spend bottomless hours at Lillian’s, enjoying multiple refills of coffee—usually hazelnut or French vanilla, but eventually French Roast, the extra dark and mysterious not-for-everyone cup.
Later, I’d venture to the Denver cafés: The Market in Larimer Square, Cheesman Park’s Café 13 or Fatz City (a Capitol Hill precursor to today’s Mercury Café) serving dark black coffee alongside good breakfasts.

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