Sunday, January 18, 2009

It's the simple things

I'm waiting for the next wave of celebrity confessions. Any day now. "It's true. I'm addicted. I can't give it up. I admit it. I can't leave the house without it. I can't start my day... learn my lines... take a meeting... I can't even text my assistant to get it for me. If I go too long my hands start to shake."

It's not surprising. After all, it's widely available. And just about anyone can get their hands on the cheap stuff. Or the bad stuff, for that matter. Which is often, but not always, the same.

But let's talk the good stuff. The real thing. The full monty. The whole nine yards. Coffee. And not just coffee. Espresso. The deep, dark, majestic monarch of joe. Black gold. The morning cup that makes the difference between "huh?" and the perfect witty riposte. Here's the thing about that. There's brown stuff. And then there's coffee. And then there's the "get your hand off that right now, or be prepared to pull back a nub." That's where Black Cat Espresso comes in.

Burnt espresso fixes, I mean drinks, are a dime a dozen at ye olde Starbucks (to be found, according to Jonathan Gold, at "every street corner and shopping mall in the known universe"). Well, to be accurate, not a dime, more like a Benjamin, but you get my point.

That's actually part of my point. A pound of espresso—off-the-charts, your-world-will-never-be-the-same espresso—and a few pints of cream will run you less than twenty bucks. That's maybe four drinks at Starbucks. FOUR. 1. 2. 3. 4. One, two, three, four. 1 —— 2 —— 3 —— 4.

Let me repeat that for you. You can spend more money for worse coffee, or you can make your way over to Intelligentsia Coffee and order some of the best espresso you'll ever pipe into your veins. Or drink. Whatever.


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