What is the best coffee?
A human can survive without water for three days. But this human can’t last more than eight hours without the streamy, creamy goodness of a big cup of coffee. Like a lot of Americans, I am addicted to my morning java jolt. My caffeine carafe is my mood elevator, making me feel a lot like that guy in the Arby’s hat, Pharrell Williams. Coffee equals happy. Coffee helps me face even the worst day with a positive get-it-done attitude. Clap along if too much coffee makes you feel like a “room without a roof.”
What is the best coffee? I drink Folger's coffee. I drink an entire pot of Folger’s every day before lunch. This is, of course, my Mother’s fault. Mom drank Folger’s all day, every day when I was just a spot, a tiny flapping embryo, cocooned in her womb. Today I take my Folger’s just like she did, with lots of milk. The ad agency who came up with “The best part of waking up is Folger’s in your cup,” isn’t quite as smart as they think. The best part of Folger’s is really when it’s my belly, a warm energy pool coursing outward to my fingertips. It’s Pavlovian; when I smell coffee brewing it wakes up the tiny Mini Me in my belly that starts yelling, “Get IT IN here!”
I don’t feel this affinity for a cup of Starbucks. Starbucks is overpriced, bitter and pretentious. No, I don’t need a whipped cream mocha latte grande, thank you very much. The only coffee that comes close to Folger’s, in my over-caffeinated opinion, is Tim Horton’s. Those Canadians have hit upon the eighth wonder of the world. The only event that forces my AM Folger’s to grow cold in the pot is a run to “my Tim’s.” One large cup of Tim Horton’s coffee, with two creams, please, can sustain me the entire day. Now THAT is coffee magic. I’ve become a Tim Horton’s marketing advisor, receiving and completing the polls they send, via my hotmail account. They’ve not asked me about their coffee; clearly perfection has been achieved. Mainly, they ask my opinions about their food and in one of their last surveys, I commented that their new croissant with a maple glaze, looked a lot like a brown flaky dog turd.
Now that I’m thinking about it, I haven’t received any marketing surveys from Tim’s lately.
Every Sunday, I applaud my obsessive frugalness as I clip coupons and look at circulars, searching for Folger’s on sale. Call me old school, but paying $6.50 for 270 cups of Folger’s seems like a great investment in my future productivity. Very occasionally, I will run across a coupon, and then it’s like Christmas morning, double savings on my favorite thing. I find myself grinning stupidly at the check out person as I pay (very little) and dance out of the store with my cart full of those pretty plastic red containers of Happy.