I grew up in a family of coffee drinkers. If you were not drinking coffee, you pretty much were not allowed at the adult table at holiday meals. I didn't get my first invite to the adult table until I was in college. That's when I discovered the local coffee house - Sweet Eugene's. I also discovered that black was not the only way to drink coffee. "It puts hair on your chest," my Dad would say. Maybe that's why I put off the coffee conversion for so long. I could not imagine how that would be a good thing for me.
Being introduced to Foo-Foo coffee is what keeps me coming back for more. I have sought out the best way to make coffee, the best tasting coffee, and have a daily ritual surrounding these things. I almost won't drink my Mom's coffee flavored water anymore - unless I sneak in to the kitchen after she has prepared the coffee pot for the morning and dump in a few more scoops of grounds. I'm really glad my brother works in a country that produces good coffee, and that I get to partake of that abundance.
I am a coffee snob. I prepare coffee every day in my French Press - one cup of delicious goodness while I eat breakfast and blow dry my hair. I have been committed to the French Press for years now...until my friend Kate bested me with decaf.
Now decaf generally tastes like drinking aluminum foil to me, but Friday night - it was the best coffee ever to have crossed my amateur foodie palate. She made this coffee in what looked like something you'd see in a mad scientist's lab - using filter paper and all. I felt like I was back in Chemistry with Mr. Ramsey, just as clueless now as I was then. I was doubtful, because the French Press is superior in every way to any other method. Well, she explained how this method was actually better, and in the end - that few sips of decaf superseded any other past cup of coffee - smooth, no aluminum foil taste...it made me wonder what goodness it would bring out of my Guatemalan beans. I might have to give in and get me one of those chemistry sets - if it's going to be that good every time. It might be time to break up with my French Press.
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