Something happened to me earlier this year, something that would cause the average coffee snob to turn their head and sneer at its very mention.
I realized that I like instant coffee.
(Now I’m, just waiting for that slap! to hit me in the side of the side.)
Now now, let’s all be rational here. Yes, I drink a lot of coffee. Yes, I need coffee every morning (2 cups if you would be so kind). Yes, I’m a writer. But, do all of those things translate into coffee afficionado? In my case, no.
I love coffee, but let’s not fool anyone: I’m no savant when it comes to blends, grinds, mixes, roasts, what have you. and I only found out the difference between Arabica and Robusta earlier this week when I somehow found myself stumbling across it’s Wikipedia entry (we’ve all been there).
I’m just a guy who really likes hot beverages, and likes it even more when it’s coffee. I’m Canadian and what do Canadians know about coffee? Tim Horton’s is our number one destination, after all; we wear our ignorance on our sleeve and are proud of it.
I don’t even like Starbucks. I prefer my Maxwell house. Poor me.
I suppose things wouldn’t be so bad if I only liked it. Liking something is fine. People like things that aren’t even good. I like bad movies. I like bad wine. I like bad coffee. The problem is, I actually really enjoy the bad coffee; enjoy it to the point that I might be addicted to that wood-flavoured powder mess.
I’ve gone out of my way to buy it, catching the bus down to the other end of the city because I suspect the Walmart at that end of town most likely has shelves of that shit stashed away somewhere. I’ve got there and left contented, I’ve gone there and left dejected. I’ve even found myself prowling the aisles of the Dollarama, hunting for dehydrated dollar grinds. I’ve found them too, they come in little glass jars with red lids and ugly graphics. They also taste like dollar coffee. For some reason, I don’t mind.
Maybe that’s all that matters. Just me and my instant coffee against the world.