Coffee is a beautiful beverage, whatever the Memoir from Antproof Case has to say about it. More tannins (and thus a more complex flavor) than wine, plenty of antioxidants, plus caffeine: it probably kills you, but tastes good as it does so.
For some reason offices insist on serving the kind of coffee that might better be described as battery acid mixed with raw carbon. The bitterness and scorch overwhelms the flavor, and while the caffeine rush comes through the experience is far from pleasant. But what are the options? Starbucks? Barely passable drip coffee. Dunkin’ Donuts, down the way? Great when I want a coffee with so much cream and sugar it qualifies as a milkshake, but not so good for a pure cup of joe.
After struggling through office coffee for the last seven months (the only part of my job that’s been a true chore for me) I’ve finally bought a three cup French Press for my desk. I’m actually drinking less coffee now – the need to prepare the press and wait for the grounds to steep means I have to really want a cup before I grab one – but every bit of coffee I do drink is at least good enough to savor. A small difference, maybe, when set against the vastness of the world, but a pleasant one.
Speaking of which, my four minutes are up. Time to go press down the plunger and appreciate my afternoon.