Addicted? Me? But I Can Quit At Any Time....

Coffee and I go way back. Way, WAY back.

To give you some sort of time frame here, I think I can safely say I first became addicted to the beany brew in utero. You see, back then, back in the Barney Rubble and Fred Flintstone days, people drank coffee all day long. Strong, hot, black coffee. And my mother was one of those people. When she was pregnant with me, do you think she curbed her consumption of caffeine? Not a chance. I don't even think they knew what caffeine WAS back then.

As a child I was introduced to coffee at an early age. No, they didn't put it in my bottle, but it was almost that bad. You've heard about children in France that are given wine and water mixed together when they are small? It's part of the culture there. As the children grow older they are allowed more and more wine and less and less water, so by the time they are adults they've literally been drinking wine all of their lives.

That's just about how it was with me and coffee.

I remember thinking coffee was a very grown-up type of drink. Only adults were allowed to consume the heady brew. I loved the smell, and I sneaked a drink every chance I could. Mom and Dad were always having us bring them a cup, so it wasn't hard.

And then there was coffeemilk. Oh, sweet, sweet coffeemilk!

Mom would pour a glass of milk for me at every meal. As a special treat, she'd let me take a big drink of milk, and then she'd add a few drops of coffee to my glass.

My mother, the coffee pusher.

As I grew, so did my addiction. I had to have it every morning or risk zombie-itis, along with other afflictions, in mass proportions. I once tried fasting, but ended up with a headache the size of a small mountain range and a case of the DT's. It was just ugly.















Oh yes, it was.

In the 80's I found something new....the hometown coffee shop. They had (gulp) FRESH GROUND COFFEE BEANS there, and they brewed each cup of coffee ONE AT A TIME.

I died right there and went to Coffee Heaven. Really.

The place was called Caron's. No, not like Karen with an O, but like ca-RON's. Caron was an ex-model, and had been featured in the Nair commercial where all the girls wore hotpants and walked up stairs - remember that one? They sang "We've got short shorts..." As if short shorts weren't invented until Nair came on the scene and everything. She had legs up to her chin, and man, was I ever jealous. I mean, being all of five-feet-four-and-one-half inches has its merits....

But I digress.

Caron taught me All About The Coffee, for which I am ever in her debt. I hung out at her place so much she put me to work there. My favorite drink was an iced latte, and I easily could've guzzled her out of store and home, given the chance. And I may have done that, since she had to close up shop a few years after I began frequenting her place.

For several years thereafter I resembled a homeless addict, wandering the streets in search of a fix. Oh, there were the trips to Gloria Jean's, the occasional unbrewed grounds found by accident, and the gift shops hidden away in dark corners that held secret stashes of beans. But I never really found the joy I'd had with my first sip. The thrill, it seemed, was gone.

Fast forward an eon or so.

There was a new place in town that all the java jerks like me were talking about. "You've GOT to try this!" they said. "It's GREAT!!!" I'd heard it all before. I'd been disappointed more times than Carter has pills, too. But hope dies hard for a tried and true Caffeine Queen like me, so I went. The name of the place?

Starbucks.

Yup, I fell for it.

The first time I went I asked for coffee, straight up. What I got was a bitter, too-strong brew that could stand on its own without a cup. "So what's all the fuss about?" I wondered. After all, I'd been living on Folger's for a while.

And I must tell you, I laugh at that thought now. Long and hard.

I went back up to the barista and asked if all their coffee tasted as bad as the cup I had. After he wiped the shocked look off of his face, he suggested a different drink for me. He even made it himself, presented it with a flourish, and charged me not one cent.

I was hooked. AGAIN.

Oh, sweet-bean-o-my-heart, was I!

It was a mocha. But not just ANY mocha. It was a Venti Iced Mocha with Whipped. And it was liquid gold as it flowed down my throat. Sweet, chocolatey, slightly bitter, creamy, and about four or a gazillion times better than any other concoction I'd had in my life.

Since that time I have been a loyal user drinker, more or less. I rarely vary from my elixir of choice. That is, until this past week.

Since I'm in charge of the coffee service at work (kind of like putting the inmates in charge of the prison), I decided to get a coffee company in that would provide us something other than the usual swill to drink.

Enter the Keurig machine. (trumpets sound)

With the per-cup brewing it offers, this machine is a veritable wonder. The company is providing the machine, and we buy the K-Cups from them. K-Cups are individual cups of ground coffee with little filters built right in. The little cup is placed in the machine, the machine provides the hot water and pressure, and what comes out is a little piece of Java Jollyness. K-Cups come in more flavors and blends than you can count, and most of the better coffee producers are carrying them now. You can get Green Mountain, Gloria Jean's, Starbucks, and a plethora of others. They're available for home and office, and you can get them right on the InterWeb! A home machine (which I would literally eat cat food right out of the can in order to own) is $99. K-Cups run anywhere from $8 on up for a box of 25.

Oh hush. It's cheaper than Starbucks. And besides, the people at work are going to chip in on a per-cup basis. Maybe. I hope.

At any rate, I think we're going to have a long and rewarding relationship together.....as long as the coffee doesn't run out.