Crying Coffee

Okay, I'll admit it, I'm a doubly-bad coffee-drinker. First offense; I've learned to tolerate instant coffee. I never could drink the stuff before I moved here, it tasted nasty and seemed against all laws of nature. It wasn't an issue though, there always seemed to be others around to share a pot with. If I ended up with the whole pot to myself, that was okay too. The last two cups would be strong and almost burnt... perfect for my liquid hazelnut creamer! NUMMMY!

HOWever... here, there's no one to share with. Most everyone I know drinks tea (.. with milk *gaaaakkkk*). If you're offered coffee when visiting others.. it's going to be instant. Kitchens are generally kitted out with an electric kettle, not a coffeepot.

I also can't find my creamer here. I ordered it once from the states, in those little single-serving sizes you find next to the gas station coffee kiosks. The cost of shipping was more than the cost of the creamer itself and sort of ruined it for me.

So. My latest treat is taking one of those cappuccino mixes and adding an extra spoonful of instant coffee. Impure, impure, impure... the things I do to my very best friend. Good thing there isn't a coffee police.

There's a Starbucks in Liverpool. And that's fine, If you're making the trip. But the places nearer that make coffee drinks just can't replicate them to the standards I expect. I'm being greedy and demanding here... I want the little beanhut on MY corner that knows what the fuck they're doing. Someplace I can go and easily get my fix without having to clean up my own expresso machine!! LOL.. demanding and lazy too ;)

In the meantime, I might just try to figure out the measurements on the cafepress up in the cupboard. It could be just the answer to my coffee woes. Or it could be yet another method for the desecration of my coffee friend.