At this point I am a little bit into seeking out the journaling blogs of everyday people writing about their own experiences and frames of reference.
A case in point:
Americans seem, for some unfathomable reason, to like their coffee big and weak. Shocked emoji.
I was going to say something smart about it being similar to their taste in politics — but that would be uncouth.
Here is a taster of one person dying on the hill of caffeinated mediocrity.
In other countries, it’s not like that. You’re expected to just sit down, spend 10 minutes drinking this annoyingly tiny cup of coffee, and then leave. One time I ordered an ice coffee that came in a cup so small, I complained to my husband that the whole thing was gone in only two gulps. By the end of the trip, I was so desperate for a large cup of drip coffee that I almost walked into a Starbucks.
Go read the full post: The most American thing about me is the coffee
My own coffee journey has taken me from sketchy cafe cappuccino topped with way too much chocolate powder, to the anticipatory aromas of French press, to flat whites, to the performative joys of my own espresso machine, to a side quest with the Moka Pot, to highbrow double-shot espresso’s served in a teeny tiny cup.
Thus, I can perfectly understand being hopelessly lost on the wrong hill. Wink emoji.
Right now I am super into the simple zen of a pour-over done right1. I admit this is technically adjacent to American drip-filter coffee. But adjacency does not equal similarity. And the idea of carrying around a large thermos cup of sewer-water (go read the post) tickles my gag reflex.
- You are going to need: good coffee, a hand made wooden coffee bean spoon, a decent hand grinder, a set of coffee scales, a goose-neck kettle, a bespoke favourite coffee cup. Don’t get me started. ↩︎
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