Friday, December 01, 2006

Coffee. Black.

I'm a pretty simple guy when it comes to coffee. Give me a good roast, a strong brew, and just black, thank you very much. I want my coffee to taste like coffee. I brew about half a pot in the morning (well, actually, my awesomely awesome wife makes it for me during the week, which is way cool) and pour it into my monster travel mug for the road. I also have a coffee pot at my desk, and I'll brew another half pot or so for the rest of the morning (I don't know what it is they brew here at work, but it ain't good). It's pretty rare that I go into a coffee shop for coffee, and when I do, it's rarer still that I order anything but coffee, black, which always throws the kids behind the counter because they're just not used to an order that simple. Even if they understand that I just want regular roasted coffee, they still ask if I want room for cream, to which I reply, "No, thank you," if I'm feeling my friendly self, but if I'm ornery, I'll reply, "No, because then it wouldn't be black." Every once in a great while, however, I'll get a hankerin' for a chai tea. And that I just can't make at home. So it's off to the coffee shop for me, to feel all hip, tortured and liberal. Plus I love the game of trying to order the drink the right way, even though I know there is no right way. I don't know if you've noticed, but no matter how you order your drink, the order taker is going to turn to the coffee maker (or "barista," as the kids like to call them) and say it differently. You: "Grande chai with skim milk." Them: "Grande skinny chai." But if you come back the next day and say, "Grande skinny chai," they'll say, "Skinny grande chai." They've been instructed to never just repeat the customer, because then the customer would be in on the secret coffee ordering society and we can't have that.

Okay, I gotta go. My coffee just finished brewing.


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