Want My Morning Coffee: A Rant

There’s an old Buddhist trope that we are woven out of three demons, greed and anger and delusion. But, we lead with one.

Me, I’m greed. A long ways into greed.

I want.

These days as I age, the thing I most want with a burning passion is my morning coffee.

A million years ago, or so, as a youth hanging out on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, I discovered espresso drinks at the Cafe Mediterranean. Not many years later Peets became my favorite Bay Area roaster. For those unfamiliar with the story, the founder of Starbucks worked briefly for Peets and when they wouldn’t sell him a franchise, well, the rest is, as they say, history…

The point here is that I like, actually, remember greed, think addiction, think bottomless desire, I need my coffee strong and roasted very, very dark.

(And not stale. God save us from coffee roasted two or three years ago… And, me, a good dash of half and half is nice…)

In some ways its sad that decent coffee came to America as uber dark roast. I have no taste for the milder roasts. Which, I know, in some abstract way, can be wonderful. And with my ruined tastebuds I can never be a true coffee connoisseur. I must, instead, just be a snob…

I need my hit. And it has to be recently roasted, dark, dark. And freshly ground.

Or, I am sad.

And can say or write unkind things…

Yesterday we awoke in Brattleboro. They have a first rate roaster and coffee shop in Mocha Joe’s.

Me, I just sort of figured with that long experience of many visits to Brattleboro that Vermont would be filled with small roasters and decent coffee shops pretty much everywhere. I knew there wouldn’t be Starbucks, they only have four shops in the state all clustered pretty close to Burlington, way far north of where we’re traveling. But I put that down to prejudice against corporate business not ignorance of decent coffee. Foolishly I just sort of pictured Vermont as Oregon in the East, a tiny Washington state, with espresso machines in every gas station.

But, nooo….

We arrived in Rutland lateish in the afternoon, and we quickly began to check for the coffee shop I could run to in the morning for that essential wake up drug.

That’s when the bad news hit.

Oh, the sadness of it all…

Yelp said there was a shop called Coffee Exchange right downtown, maybe a mile from our motel. Couldn’t find it. A merchant told us they’d been closed for, oh a dozen years… Another shop with an espresso machine said, sorry, we aren’t open on Sundays. And, the last shop we could locate is changing hands and while their sign said they were open, they weren’t. And the folk at the shop that isn’t open on Sundays said of that other shop they’re a bit unreliable regarding hours right now.

And let those who mistakenly think that Dunkin’ Donuts now offer espressos, that those who say such things should be forgiven because they know not what they say… Their last contribution to the improvement of coffee in America was a very long time ago when most people were drinking steeped blackened coconut shells infused with caffiene, and offered a watery drink made out of real, if often very stale, coffee beans. Ain’t good enough. Ain’t anywhere near good enough…

Now, while I was never a boy scout, I do, when traveling always carry a metal french press and have enough of my precious freshly ground to get us through this terrible moment.

But, and returning to the point, such as it is, of this rant.

America! Wake up!

We threw the tea into Boston’s harbor.

But we threw off one tyrant only, it turns out, to be captured by another.

Life is too short for bad coffee.

Demand good coffee.

Decent beans. Freshly roasted. And ground within the week.

And a half way decent espresso machine housed in a decent place to sit with wi fi access wouldn’t be bad either.

Ah, my coffee is steeped. (Four minutes, thanks for asking)

Have a nice day…