I am the first to admit that I am a coffee snob. I grew up drinking coffee from freshly ground beans (admittedly, at that point it was usually more milk than coffee) at a time when most people still drank coffee from cans. Then I moved
to Portland, OR, land of coffee (I know people think that is Seattle, but they are just wrong). I have been drinking sustainably-sourced, locally micro-roasted coffee ever since. When I visit my brother’s house in New York, he has decent whole bean coffee. Not quite the calibre of what I am used to, but not bad either. However, when I visit my mother-in-law’s (MIL) house in Boston it is like I step into a time machine. She buys Chock full o’ nuts coffee in a steel can. I didn’t even know they sold this stuff anymore. It is coffee I associate with grandmothers, percolators and the smell of burnt coffee. Times have changed. My MIL brews hers in a french press, but it still smells and tastes like harsh, burnt coffee. Think of gas station coffee. Bad gas station coffee. That’s the exact flavor I’m talking about.
The coffee I get here makes me debate every morning which is worse: the coffee or the caffeine headache. I usually decide the headache is worse, but there have been times when I just couldn’t force myself to swallow that battery acid and just took some aspirin instead. This time I tried to game the system and brought chocolate-covered coffee beans for my caffeine fix. They work pretty well and taste way better, but they only work when she leaves for work before I come downstairs. This is why I dread the weekends. I guess I could down some coffee beans before I come downstairs, but somehow that feels wrong. Like I am cheating or something. Apparently, in my mind I have to face the music when I have breakfast with my MIL and I have to either skip the caffeine or drink the foul brew.
Tomorrow morning we are having brunch at my father-in-law’s house where there is good coffee to be had. Is this the solution to my bad coffee dilemma? Will I be able to stave off the caffeine headache until I can get my hands on the good stuff? Only time will tell.
Addendum: After 13 years I finally made some headway on the coffee situation and we bought some locally roasted coffee. My MIL really can’t tell the difference and somehow “didn’t know” that the quality of the coffee mattered to me.