Saturday, July 13, 2013

My Coffee Journey

I was the last person in my family to really start drinking coffee.

This is odd if you realize that I'm the oldest kid in the family. Mia Sorella started quite young; she'd finish other people's cold coffee at gatherings. Shorty, in the meantime, seemed to develop a taste for no particular reason before he turned 10.

And then there was me, the late-bloomer, not really getting into the stuff until I was 16.

[Side note: I'm also the shortest, thus squelching the idea that coffee stunts your growth.]

[One of my awesome Russian roomies gave me this mug...]
Of course, by then I only drank the stuff my mom's mother would have given me as a five-year-old -- milk with a hint of coffee. Or more accurately, milk and sugar and maybe a splash of a flavored syrup with a hint of coffee. Mia Sorella (whose tastebuds were probably permanently damaged by the cold coffee dregs she'd been drinking for so long) was justified in teasing me for my lack of coffee backbone.

Economics drove me to start drinking it black.

It was the poverty of college. Coffee prices were starting to rise as more and more shops popped up around town and the owners realized we would keep coming back anyway. My standard mocha went from a $2.50 drink to a $4.00 drink without any changes on my end. Suddenly, my wallet couldn't handle my habits ... and one day, I switched to black.

It was possibly the best change I ever made. It opened up a whole new world of tastiness to me, things I never noticed because you can mask anything with [soy] milk and sugar.

Then I started visiting my grandparents with more frequency, where the coffee pot is never empty but the creamer container often is. If I wanted to hang out with them, I had to accept my black coffee.

And then at home as well.

Now, while I keep a container of Coffeemate on hand for the days I want something different (we could do a post about lactose here, but I don't know as anyone's interested in that ... including me), I pretty much stick with the black coffee. In the mornings at work, it's easier. At home with my French press, it seems like bad form to mess with it.

On days like today, it seems extra ridiculous to mess with it. I'm headed for the lake shortly with my boat, and nothing would make me feel weaker than a couple cups of foofy coffee.

Can't have that.


[I like to write about coffee. Here, it's about caffeine content. There are graphs! And here's my favorite place in Sioux Falls, which will soon have two locations.]

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