She brews she-brews, like the c-store. She brews see-throughs; see the cream pour!
Several years ago, having been informed by my bride that she liked cappuccino, I surprised her with one. She appreciated the gesture, but took a single sip and shuddered.
“This tastes like coffee!” she said in dismay.
As well it should, I thought to myself, since it came from a coffee shop.
A short conversation revealed that what Jodi likes are gas-station cappuccinos: the sweetened-and-flavored, machine-made concoctions dispensed from the same spigot as hot cocoa at convenience stores and highway rest stops across the country. She likes caffeine and sugar—coffee, not so much.
This was reconfirmed a few months back, when she purchased a quart of flavored creamer and consumed it, one cup of “coffee” a day, in less that a week.
This is anathema to me. I was introduced to coffee in hunting camp. Strong, black, gritty coffee. Manly coffee. In my grunge-and-metal-head days, I used to joke that I liked my coffee (and beer for that matter) like my music: thick, dark, and pleasantly bitter. Some might say strong enough the spoon stands up. I’ve never needed a spoon. If my teeth vibrate like tuning forks, it’s perfect.
But you find ways to work together in a marriage. Her new trick is small coffee. Among beer brewers, a small beer is made from the second runnings of grains used to first brew a stronger, higher-alcohol ale. Jodi has taken to making a second cup of coffee from my spent Keurig pod (San Francisco Bay’s Fog Chaser is my current choice), then adding somewhat less cream to kill the coffee taste.
Voila—sweet caffeine! It’s not what I call coffee, but it sure beats pop. She brews!