After sampling the top coffee varieties globally, my preference remains unchanged – I'm not a fan.
Being well aware of your coffee obsession, you brew fanatic, you probably even have a preferred acre of rainforest where your java beans grow. I get it, no problemo.
But me? I wish I shared your enthusiasm.
Here's the deal: I enjoy a bunch of coffee-related stuff. The aroma of java is intoxicating. I love the ambiance in some coffeehouses. I dig those gleaming machines with their shiny pipes and pressure valves. I appreciate the energy of the tattooed baristas who scrape the leftovers from the previous cup, then craft a picture of your face in the froth on your cappuccino. I'm a fan of the accessories – French presses, carafes, filters, tampers, and those crispy Lotus cookies that often come as a side kick.
I'm smitten with it all, I really am. I love it, until the moment I take a sip, then...
Coffee? Ew.
I've tried to appreciate coffee. Preachy coffee connoisseurs from various sects have taken me under their wing over the years, instructing me to "forget all the yucky past tastes, try this!" Willingly, I opened my palate, dismissed my biases, and slurped deep with enthusiasm.
Predictably, I ended up spraying the table. Yuck.
Before I'm labeled a plebeian, let me clarify. I boast more coffee cred than your average Joe. In the mid-aughties, I spent two years on the Indonesian island of Java, where Java coffee is born. During my time there, I traveled to the distant east, south of Surabaya, where those sought-after red beans grow on tropical hillsides, get dried and roasted.
There, the French term terroir – character gained from a particular place – was buzzing in the air like caffeine on steroids. The soil was damp and pungent, the sunlight was hazy and heavy. At its source, I entered the chance to taste coffee as Mother Nature intended, unaffected by industry.
Ugh!
In Indonesia, they also offer an exotic and expensive coffee made from beans that have gone through the digestive system of a civet cat. I never indulged, but maybe I should have. I can't see how being processed by a nocturnal forest critter could make coffee any worse.
Two years ago, I visited Colombia and was led to one of Bogota's finest coffeehouses. Once more, I was told: "Forget all the past yucky tastes, try this!"
Yet again, abysmal. I apologize, genuinely.
By the way, in Bogota's coffeehouses, as a tradition, it's also customary to enjoy a cup of hot chocolate accompanied by a slice of cheese, perfect for dunking.
Of course, I soldiered on with my Colombian brew to show good manners. Similarly, I've drunk the "world's greatest coffee" in Turkey, Greece, Italy, France, Morocco, the Arabian Peninsula (cardamom works wonders, but still, nah), and Australia.
I don't think it's my taste buds. I enjoy almost everything else on my plate, and my culinary adventures are far from boring.
Of course, I'm British, so I do share an inclination towards drinking tea rather than java. But ya'll love coffee, too, the Brits. Coffeehouses were a big deal in 17th-century London prior to tea's arrival. And today, my UK friends and colleagues dig coffee as much, if not more, than a cup of tea.
And that's a problem, since British caffeine habits have rebranded as coffee-obsessed in recent times. The cosy cafes where one used to pay a pittance for a pot of tea have succumbed to corporate coffee shops.
And while Starbucks, et al., still sell tea, they do so at coffee prices. Five dollars for a cup that amounts to hot water, a small tea bag, and a dash of milk isn't unheard of.
More of a problem over in the U.S., though. When I visit there, I usually bring my own supply of teabags (PG Tips or Yorkshire Gold, if you're asking – we rarely drink Lipton here). I've seen tea on the menu, but the pale, lukewarm swill they serve? Yuck. If that's what beers junior, no wonder everyone here has switched to coffee.
But I'm aware that I'm the issue here, not coffee. I've seen how well others AND coffee get along, and the green-eyed monster jealously twitches within me. Why can't such a connection work for us two? Maybe if we just need some time apart, we'll be ready to try again together.
Despite my love for all things coffee-related, from the aroma to the ambiance and the barista's artistry, I find myself unable to truly enjoy a cup of coffee. My two-year stint on the Indonesian island of Java, where Java coffee is born, even included a trip to the coffee plantations, but my taste buds remain unimpressed.
In my quest to appreciate coffee, I've indulged in exotic varieties, like the civet cat-processed coffee in Indonesia and the world's greatest brews in various countries, but I've always found them less than satisfying. And while I may enjoy a cup of hot chocolate with cheese in Bogota's coffeehouses, my coffee experiences end up being a disappointment.
In light of this, I often wonder if my taste preferences lean more towards food and drink that aren't caffeinated. Perhaps our next adventure should include exploring new culinary delights from around the world, as I believe we could both find great enjoyment in that.
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