Excerpts from literature and film
(from the 3rd floor to the 2nd floor)
Cosy Dens – director Jan Hřebejk, based on a novel by Petr Šabach, 1999
What’s that? Spoons. Oh, spoons – that’s handy, so many spoons.
Ah, but they’re not ordinary spoons. They’re plastic spoons. Light, flexible, bendy. They’re spoons that were developed by East German scientists.
I told you to save them for the ice-cream cake – you can’t use them in hot coffee.
I’d just like to know where our comrades from East Germany went wrong.
Ball Lightning – directors Ladislav Smoljak, Zdeněk Podskalský Sr., 1979
Which of you would like some real Brazilian coffee?
How I Became Unemployed – Miloslav Šimek and Jiří Grossmann, 1966
I was the director of a large corporation. A pretty secretary used to make me coffee, and I travelled to work in a big Tatra 613 limousine. One day they came and asked me to pay 5000 crowns towards the funeral of a member of the Communist Party Central Committee. I told them that for 5000 crowns I’d bury the entire Central Committee myself. After that, I worked as the director of a small company. An old secretary used to make me coffee, and I drove to work in a medium-sized Tatra 603. One day they reprimanded me for not attending the last Communist Party meeting. I told them that if I’d known it really would be the last meeting, I’d have turned up with a banner. After that, I worked as a shift supervisor. I drove to work in my own car, and I made my own coffee. On the wall I had pictures of President Husák and Gina Lollobrigida. One day they told me to take that whore down from the wall. So I took President Husák down, and after that I worked as a road-digger. I rode to work on a bicycle, and I took my coffee to work in a thermos flask. One day when I was digging, they came and told me to remove the bicycle because a Soviet delegation was coming. I replied that the bike was properly locked and insured. And since then I’ve been unemployed.
President Masaryk – Emil Loubal, 1948
But the President did admit to having one weakness that he described as a “vice”: he liked to drink a lot of tea or black coffee.
Let’s Tell Stories, Children! – Josef Čapek, 1929
Coffee beans grow on bushes somewhere across the ocean in faraway countries where the sun always shines.
The Leaning Church II – Karin Lednická, 2021
“That’s the Union,” announces Julka, leaving it at those three terse words. What she doesn’t mention is that the Union Café had been one of Wilhelm’s favourite places when he still took her out in public. She can still vividly remember the green plush chairs and the Venetian marble tabletops where she used to sip hot chocolate, because at the time it was a symbol of the big wide world for her. “You chose well, Jurek,” she praises her current husband. Together they make their way through the crowds towards the building on the corner, climb the wide staircase to the upper floor, and ask the waiter to seat them at a table on the balcony.
Maybe We’re Leaving – Jan Balabán, 2004
“Do you live alone?” she asked, sitting at the kitchen table.
“Yes, alone.”
“Me too, alone again. Will you make us a coffee?”
“Of course, coffee, coffee.”
He feverishly prepared two coffees, as if the trembling spoons could somehow calm the turmoil that he found himself in. This sudden enthusiasm. Unimaginable. His mother’s porcelain shook in his hands.
Saturnin – Zdeněk Jirotka, 1942
I was surprised that the coffee Mrs. Suchánková brought me for breakfast wasn’t poisoned.
The Fateful Adventures of the Good Soldier Švejk During the World War – Jaroslav Hašek, 1921
“And the stranger’s coffee that you spat in – was it with rum, or without rum?”
And without waiting for an answer, he explained:
“If it was with rum, that’ll be worse, because it’s more expensive. The court counts everything and adds it all up so that it amounts to at least a crime.”
Maryša – Alois Mrštík and Vilém Mrštík, 1894
VÁVRA (sits down silently and places his cap on the table; good-naturedly): Have you sweetened it?
VÁVROVÁ (takes the sugar from the shelf, brings it to the table and silently pushes it towards him): I forgot. (She then returns to the stove and watches his every move from there.)
VÁVRA (stirs the coffee with a spoon and sips it): Who did you get the coffee from?
VÁVROVÁ: From the Jew.
VÁVRA: And why not from the usual shop?
VÁVROVÁ: They were closed.
VÁVRA: This is stale, or something. (Drinks quickly.)
VÁVROVÁ (appears restless and doesn’t know where or how she should stand. She keeps looking at VÁVRA.)
Prague Tales from the Little Quarter – Jan Neruda, 1877
Mr. Eber knew that the situation could not continue like this for long, and he finally took matters into his own hands. “Give me my coffee, woman – you know I have to go to the office soon!” he said in as calm a voice as possible. “It’s not heated up yet,” she replied dryly, opening the door of a tall wardrobe. “Heated up? Surely you’re not going to give me coffee that’s been reheated from yesterday? Surely not!” “And why not? You earn us enough so I can cook all day in the kitchen! Earn yourself some fresh coffee!”
Grandmother – Božena Němcová, 1855
And before the children arrived, a table was already set, either in the garden or on the little island, or in the living room during the winter; on the table were good buns, bread, honey, spread, cream, and finally the father brought a basket of freshly picked fruit, or the mother brought a basket of dried apples and plums. At that time, coffee and similar posh drinks were not yet fashionable among the people.
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