Ah coffee, that deep dark aroma engulfing hot elixir of the gods. What is it about the early morning ceremony of the cradling of a cup of hot coffee, wrapped in swaddling fingers being warmed on the walls of the cup, as your nose hovers above the rim, steadily and rhythmically inhaling breath after full breath of tongue watering coffee aroma? Honestly, I have no idea. It’s not that I haven’t tried; it’s just that my appreciation for it has failed every time. When I think of coffee, I can’t help but turn to words like, ack, eww, blaa, and “I’m sorry I just threw up in my mouth a little.”
For me coffee is the equivalent of a piping hot cup of liquid ass, or iced ass depending on how you like it. Don’t get me wrong, I do like the idea of coffee. I have many dear and close family and friends that are huge fans of coffee and all the delights it offers. I even spent a few years working in a coffee shop, learning the art of the barista and their espresso wielding ways. And even though through all the years of being a close neighbor to the coffee experience, there is no place on my palate for the flavor of coffee. It’s the core coffee flavor I have an abrasion to.
I know there are many yummies that have coffee in it, mocha drinks for example, the practice of adding coffee (espresso) to hot chocolate, or the B52 cheesecake (coffee flavored cheese cake), or coffee ice cream, or even tiramisu. Sadly, all of these have that nasty coffee flavor at their core, which always leaves me in the “not a fan” classification of what many consider to be delectable delights.
Whenever I try something coffee flavored I find myself doing that tongue grating the teeth thing. You know where you repeatedly keep sticking your tongue out of your mouth, and every time you do the top of your tongue grates against your top front teeth in an attempt to try to grate off the nasty flavor in your mouth from your tongue.
When people become emotional to my abrasion to coffee, flabbergasted at the notion that someone does not like the smell or taste of one of their staples of the human experience, I usually share this story as an explanation for my dislike, other than the simple truth that I just don’t like coffee.
I grew up in a home where coffee was considered a vice of evil, in the same light that some people look at alcohol as evil, or smoking, or drugs, or naked bungee jumping. Because of this, I was not introduced to the scent of coffee until I was in 13 years old and sitting at my desk in my 7th grade English literature class.
See, in the junior high school I went to, we had two hours of English, one was for grammar and the other was for literature. Well for my entire 7th grade year I had my English classes back to back third and forth period just before lunch. My English teacher was a huge fan of coffee, and not just any coffee but very strong, pungent, no sugar or cream added, coffee. Every day before lunch for my entire 7th grade year I would be sitting in class and my teacher would crack open his thermos, which was… not an ordinary thermos for you. But the extra best thermos you can buy, with vinyl, and stripes, and a cup built right in… sorry, damn you Steve and your catchy little thermos song.
So… right! Ok yeah 7th grade, so every day the thermos would open up and this vile stench of ultra stout coffee would fill the class room and leave me sick to my stomach just before lunch. Yes, it was a great appetite deterrent, and if I ever write a diet book that will be one of the chapters, but for a 13 year old boy who was rather fond of food and the act of consuming it, that was a hell of a year. But then again I was 13, meaning I was pimply, awkward, just learning to swear for the sake of being cool, immensely fond of, but also terrified of, girls, and experiencing puberty… which was much, much, MUCH worse than that whole coffee experience, but that’s a completely different story.
So, to all of you that love your coffee, take comfort in knowing that I support you and that there will always be an extra cup for you when I am around. Also, on a personal note, from me to all coffee everywhere… screw you coffee! Screw you.
There, I said it. I feel better.
I have the same relationship with Alcholol. Everytime I try it, I think, “This is it, I’m going to like it this time.” And it never happens. It doesn’t matter how much sugar or juice or fruit (or the lack thereof) goes into it, I can always tell its there.
So, you don’t like Coffee,
Mike doesn’t like Chocolate
I don’t like alcohol
and Dave doesn’t like potty mouths . . . the circle is complete.
Sad, Rich, sad. My first experience is probably why I’m such a huge fan of coffee. It was actually the Ibis, were you worked, that I was introduced to “good” coffee both in flavor and aroma. I was able to smell the beans that hadn’t been used yet and it had this warmth that I just had to try it. Again I was lucky to be around people that made this amazing cup of delight for me, and knew how to make it well. I didn’t actually know how to brew my own until I was 22. When I tried it for the first time when I as 16 I liked it, but it took me a while to get the coffee/milk ratio just right. My morning ritual started when I was 21 and I have been drinking it since . I wonder if I would like it as much if my first experience hadn’t been so…..magical. hmmmm
Gotta go w/ Stephanie on this one…it’s all Freudian.