But she did not neec to tell him why she had wrapped it up. The smell was already filling the room, a rich hot smell which seemed like an emanation from his early childhood, but which one did occasionally meet with even now, blowing down a passage-way before a door slammed, or diffusing itself mysteriously in a crowded street, sniffed for an instant and then lost again.
'It's coffee,' he murmured, 'real coffee.'
Part 2, Chapter 4, 1984, (published 1949).
Sorry my dears for being silent yesterday, but circumstances rendered it nigh impossible for me to post anything. This excerpt is to make up for it. It isn't particularly exciting or anything, just very simple and fascinating. Just think about something as taken for granted as coffee being lost in time like this, and then how incredible it would be to rediscover it. Food for thought.