Coffee Connoisseurs

Coffee Connoisseurs

I have a rule in my home: No standing behind me while I’m at my desk writing. This means no drinking, talking, chewing, or even breathing behind my back. Unless you've got an emergency that needs my attention, don’t do it.

The other morning, Dane was standing silently behind me.

We use an electric kettle to heat water for our morning coffee and tea. I say that with apologies to any coffee snob friends out there. We don’t have an AeroPress, an automatic drip machine, or a fancy Chemex filter, and until recently I thought a French press was a new type of bicep curl we could try in exercise class.

Because of the hard water here in the valley, we clean the electric kettle monthly with vinegar to remove the scale that’s built up. We know we’re behind the times, but it works for us.

Feeling Dane’s lurking presence, I stopped writing and turned to look at him. Holding his coffee cup, he calmly asked if I was cleaning the kettle. When I answered “Yes,” he raised his cup, as if in a toast, and deadpanned, “Imagine my surprise!”

Of the two of us, Dane is a better judge of a good cup of coffee. And it’s not one made with vinegar!

My go-to coffee is Folgers instant decaf, which I always keep on hand. By now, I know the container by its green color and can mindlessly grab it off the store shelf while keeping my cart moving.

Just the other day, I pulled a brand new jar of it from the cupboard. I opened the container, dropped a teaspoon of coffee into my cup, added boiling water, and sauntered off to my office to begin writing. While waiting for the coffee to cool, I was making progress on a column.

Reaching for my cup, I took my first sip. Yuck! Floating coffee granules stuck to my teeth and in my throat. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I abandoned writing and trudged back to the kitchen to get a spoon. I gave my coffee a quick stir and went back to the computer. After a few sentences, I reached down, took another sip, and this time spat it back into the cup. Gritty!

I hurried to the kitchen sink, spat again, and poured the awful stuff out. They’re making cheap coffee even cheaper, I thought, as I started over with a new cup. Standing near the sink, I took a cautious sip . Pfftt, pftt! It was just as bad. I decided I would return the jar on my next trip to town. Setting it aside, I made a cup of herbal tea.

Last night, Dane stayed over, and this morning, as I sat pecking away at the keys, he asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Oh, I forgot to return my coffee yesterday,” I said. “It was a bad batch and stuck in my mouth. It won’t even dissolve!”

Dane walked out to the kitchen, came back into my office, and stood behind me again. “Babe,” he said, “that’s ground coffee.”

“Huh?”

“Regular coffee you brew in a coffee maker.”

“Well, it tastes horrible.”

Coffee connoisseurs we’re not!