The Great Coffee Debacle

Ironically, it began a few weeks ago on Facebook. I responded to a seemingly innocent thread of "The 25 Random Things Game", and suddenly there was a problem in our house.

A big problem.

Why?

Number 15.

It was my own damned fault. After all, it was my choice to write down what I did. I just didn't realize Nathaniel would be so offended. In a funny sort of way, though.

Curious about what's causing all the fuss?

Good. Because here's what I wrote:

Even though he got me hooked on coffee, I think I make better coffee than my husband.

Laugh all you want: he didn't crack a smile.

In his defense, I never really told him that anything was wrong with his coffee, per se. It just tasted weaker than the pots that I made. Then again, I'm a hair-on-your-chest-give-it-to-me-strong-and-dark-and-then-I'll-add-my-creamer-kind of gal.

I used to hate coffee. I though it tasted awful, and as a little kid, I swore I would never drink it. It smelled interesting though... But so did vanilla. And that tasted like crap. Then in college, I bought Nathaniel a french press and it began from there. He would make me coffee, and I - being the grown-up-college-gal-that-I-naturally-was - drank it down. Eventually I developed a taste for it.

Writing a senior thesis and spending late late night and early early mornings pouring over Czech students and The Prague Spring will do that to you. (My awesome topic of choice. I really did enjoy it. There, you learned something new about me. Aside from the coffee thing).

I could tell immediately when Nathaniel read number 15.

"You don't like my coffee?" he asked, sounding hurt.

"It's not that I don't like it. I just like mine more." I replied. It's not you, it's me flashed through my mind, but I held my tongue.

Eventually we figured out that I add about an extra 50-60% Starbucks dark French Roast beans to the grinder than he does.

You can close your mouth now. I freely admit that I make strong coffee.

And its not that Nathaniel makes weak coffee. Au contraire, mon frere (I took French as well. There's another gem!). His coffee is actually really strong compared to most people's. It's just that I like mine stronger. Hence the strong coffee.

There was only one way this issue could be solved. And it did not involve wrestling, third parties, or fights to make the morning pot.

Blind tasting.

For several days after the Big Reveal, Nathaniel made morning coffee. On some days he would add extra beans to the grinder, and on others he would make it the way he traditionally had. I could tell a difference each time.

Nothing was fooling this gal.

And now in our household, we make extra strong coffee. And it has to be with Starbucks French Roast. We tried another brand, but in spite of over stuffing our grinder with beans, the coffee tasted awful. Weak, brown in color, and there were no delicious oils sticking to the side of the mug after our first sip. For Pete's sake, it looked like tea while we poured it. And tasted awful.

Trust me.

And yes, we're coffee nerds. But hey - something like coffee is worth getting right, correct?

No - I'll keep it very dark, full of flavor, and strong enough to keep me going all day. And then I'll destroy any semblance of black coffee by adding my creamer to it. Oh well - it's what I do.

And now we BOTH do it well. Minus the creamer for him, though.

So if you ever come to visit, be prepared for strong coffee. I can't guarantee that you won't be attacked by the House Monster, or that the Mini Monster won't run away. But the coffee will be strong. And it will flow freely!