Coffee: It’s Crap, But I Like It.
A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
At long last I am going to confirm something my readers have suspected for years – both of them, one I suspect is being read to. I am the next thing to a neanderthal, a man with no class at all and the epitome of bad taste. Because of this flaw, I should be a social outcast, not the class act that I am
I don’t like coffee.
Yes, I know I drink two or three cups in the morning, every morning, and every Friday have coffee with a group of friends in a high-end coffee shop complete with its own gigantic roaster that takes up half the building. The shop features a menu of the dozens of blends and exotic combinations available. Its regular customers, and there are dozens and dozens of them, have taste buds so cultured and fine-tuned that most of its clients can not only tell in which country and from what plantation the bean was produced but the side of the tree from whence it came.
“What is Foster running on about now and what set him off this time?”
Strange that you should ask, it was the Christmas gift guides that came with the Toronto Star in early December that got me going. They were filled with all sorts of wonderful gifts available on-line or in stores.
In one brochure, and on the very first page, was a hell of a bargain, an Espresso and Cappuccino machine that would regularly sell for a modest $2,499.00 was now on sale for $1,499.00. Not only that, it included a $200 gift card on the buyer’s next purchase.
As I was studying the picture of this machine I began to think “Am I capable of operating such a marvelous piece of equipment knowing I don’t do well with anything more advanced than a hand-operated can opener?” (An electric model proved to be beyond my expertise and resulted in an ambulance ride, several hours in O.R, and a pork and beaned ceiling.)
As I mulled this fantastic bargain over in what is left of my mind, I began to think about my relationship with coffee over most of my life. Quite frankly it hasn’t been good.
I have been drinking the stuff for close to 80 years and can still remember the first and best cup of coffee I ever tasted. It was a Sunday morning when I was 8 or 9 and my Mom made it.
What may surprise you since this event was no doubt before you were born, or even thought of, that cup wasn’t brewed in a giant espresso machine with bells and whistles that took up half the kitchen counter, nor was it in a Keurig, a Nespresso, a Cuisinart, or any one of a dozen electronic computerized wonders. My perfect cup was made in a glass percolator with a little steel basket inside and it bubbled and farted away for 10 minutes or so and there it was, perfect coffee. Even the smell was good.
Now, here is where the whole process becomes interesting. It wasn’t the Pride of Arabia coffee, Maxwell House, or whatever brand they used that made it so good, it was what we put in it, a spoonful of sugar and (are you ready?) Carnation Evaporated Milk.
OMIGOD!
I know, I know, too many calories, too much fat, and far too sweet, but hot damn, it was good. I loved that coffee, a Sunday morning treat.
But then I got older and started to listen to friends who weren’t much brighter than I am. Some jerk convinced me to switch to 1% milk (can you imagine what all that cream is doing to your heart?) and get rid of the sugar, bad for your teeth and your acne.
Hey! Why not try one of those new artificial sweeteners?
Now that was really good advice, go from sugar to a chemist’s nightmare.
Then some busybody told me to drink it black and I did because that was the healthy thing to do and for 65 years I have been choking this stuff down.
Over the years I have tried most of the main brands and experimented with different roasts and grinds, but none of them even came close to the flavour of the home-perked stuff we had Sunday mornings in the late 40s.
The coffee companies tried but they did never figure out what is missing.
Mary Poppins knew and so do I, it’s that spoonful of sugar and, oh yes, did I mention the Carnation milk?
(Image Supplied)
