Snobbery

I wasn’t born a snob. It all kinda just happened.

I never even liked coffee. In fact, I’d cringe at my mothers tar-black stuff she sipped every morning.

But then everything changed.

I returned to my childhood love, Borneo, and lived and work for one year on a medical team. We traveled interior, hiking for days until reaching tiny villages surrounded by virgin forests and wild monkeys. Before the morning mist even cleared, this dark, sweet stuff was being handed to me over an open fire. I would sip and sit on bamboo balconies overlooking a rustic National-Geographic, people-pay-thousands-of-dollars-for-this scene. Morning coffee with the morning mist.

So the selective taste began, I guess, though it wasn’t a high-class of snobbery of sorts. In fact, what I was initially sipping was coffee grounds mixed with chicory (cheap-man’s coffee). But I was already caught in the net of this glorious drink. By the time I reached college there was no turning back.

I like my coffee strong and black. No cream, no sugar. Latte’s (double tall soy latte’s) are an indulgence (and much missed!) but what I love most of all, is the dark, black stuff.

I thought I could do it. Survive in India without the real stuff. Now that I’m on decaf’, I even found Nescafe Decaf Instant Coffee. Ask me where it sits, lonely day after day. Untouched. I must have my beans. The smell as they’re cracked open in the blender. Awe yes. It must be morning and mist again.

I’m a snob. A coffee snob. I drink it thick and rich and dark. And I’m not ashamed to say I won’t settle for anything less (I’ve been known to toss a bad cup or two).

What’s your snobbery?