Conventional Confession #9: Really Bad Coffee

Ted and I have been taking our vacation in New England, where many things are different than in our native California: argyle socks and canvas belts printed with little sea bass are in abundance, denim jeans are virtually non-existent, and there’s a blazer for every occasion. Beaded sandals and pink cable-knit sweaters abound, offering a stark (yet welcome) change of uniform than in our home state, where summer style consists of faded jeans and old college sweatshirts. I find myself drawn to some of this Eastern style, assimilating a lobster belt and a beaded necklace or two into my own California wardrobe.

The one thing I’ve found to be lacking on this trip, however, is the coffee. Making this trip from West to East means trading the Land of Starbucks for Dunkin’ Donuts Territory. Sure, the donuts are delicious, but a girl can really get to miss her morning lattés.

Really Bad Coffee at a diner

One might think the weak selection of caffeinated beverages would prove to be an obstacle for a seasoned espresso connoisseur like myself, but there’s a deep, dark side to my inner caffeine addict. You see, I love bad coffee. I’m not talking about kind-of-bad coffee, or even so-so coffee. No, I’m referring to Really Bad Coffee, the kind of joe that could dissolve steel under the right conditions.

Really Bad Coffee isn’t limited to a single venue; the acidic liquid is served at mom-and-pop diners and gas stations far and wide. I sometimes wonder where these businesses buy their Really Bad Coffee, if there’s some handbook or operation guide that requires its use. The ubiquitous nature of Really Bad Coffee makes it difficult to avoid, a misfortune for those like me who generally hold themselves to a higher coffee standard.

I love good, organic coffee. I’ve toured coffee plantations in Costa Rica and sampled boutique beverages from beans that grow wild in West Africa. I have preferred regions of origin for my coffee beans, like Kenya and Guatemala Antigua. I’m also familiar with companies like Allegro Coffee whose practices put the “Fair Trade” standards to shame, companies that take exceptional care of their coffee producers. This is an important part of any cup of coffee, something so frequently forgotten by many coffee drinkers.

Still, there’s something so brilliantly awful about Really Bad Coffee that draws me to it. Though I prefer to take great coffee black, I like its lesser cousin with lots of sugar and cream. Really Bad Coffee is more like an acidic vehicle for cheap creamer than anything else. Regardless of which flavor you choose, it always tastes like hazelnut. And, as in all good vices like whiskey or pancakes, it should be strong, and there should be lots of it.

I know I should be embarrassed by my obsession with bad coffee. Lord knows it embarrasses my husband, who wonders if I’ve lost my mind every time I get a hankering to hit up the local soggy sandwich shop for my morning cup. But I don’t drink bad coffee very often, and few people know about this passion of mine. After all, I run this website, dedicated to bringing you the best and brightest of today’s organic and sustainable offerings. Companies like Allegro Coffee, Pixie Maté, and Guayakí would frown in disapproval at my secret love, as well they should. They make wonderful products that are as delicious as they are responsible, and several of these products line my pantry shelves. But that’s at home, and I currently find myself in the East, away from those products.

So, I’ll continue to do what I’ve been doing for the past week: find a quaint New England diner, buy a cup of Really Bad Coffee, sink into a chair, and admire the gentlemen in fish belts and pink sweaters.