A Nice Cuppa

I am a coffee enjoyer. I know very little about it, and am more than happy with the 6-hour old, reheated brew served at any greasy-spoon diner. When I buy coffee for my home, it???s whatever is on sale, and sounds yummy. Yes, I am a marketers dream. Whimsical names and low prices can get me to buy even the worst coffee. If there is an adjective in the name, I???ll pretty much drink anything.

My sister, on the other hand, is a coffee drinker. She knows where her beans come from, the precise grind and perfect water temperature. ???French pressed only, if you don???t mind.??? The first time I served her coffee at my home, she sneered at my auto-drip pot that was purchased for $12 at Target. When I pulled out the bag of ???Fantasmical French Vanilla Nut??? (don???t judge me, it was $3.50 a pound) I thought she was going to be sick. When I offered her white sugar and skim milk, she just laughed. Needless to say, she turned down the coffee.

Over time, my tastes haven???t really changed, but I was tired of being the amateur. A little research and investing in a nice French press have added to my enjoyment of coffee. Colorful packaging, and adjective-heavy names can still sway me, but my sophistication level is improving. The last time my sister visited me, she approved wholeheartedly with my bean choice and brewing apparatus. When I pulled out heavy cream, she actually smiled. I felt vindicated. The biggest coffee-snob I knew had bestowed tacit approval by deeming my coffee ???drinkable.???

I went to visit my sister last month. Her life has changed drastically over the last few years. She was just finishing Nursing School, and was volunteering at several different community health clinics. I asked her thoughts on the recently added ???Fair Trade??? coffee at her local store. She hadn???t seen it yet. Hmm. That???s a change.

I came downstairs for breakfast in the morning, looking forward to the ritual of grinding beans, boiling water, steeping the grounds. I was surprised to find her pouring herself a cup from a glass carafe. Upon further investigation, I found it. My sister???s dirty little secret. All that time disapproving of my coffee preparations, and there she was, with a cheapo auto-drip pot.

She looked at me, her eyes filled with guilt and embarrassment. I shrugged, poured a cup and opened the fridge in search of cream. I must have looked for a while, because my sister finally piped up, ???We don???t have cream. I just use the 1% on the top shelf.??? Being an admitted sugar-freak, I asked if she had sugar. ???We don???t use sugar, but try it with the maple syrup. It???s just too good.???

After all that, my sister finally came clean. ???It just takes too much effort. And my auto-drip pot has a timer, see? The coffee is waiting for me when I wake up.??? Talk about a turnaround. There we were, the coffee-connoisseur making excuses to the coffee-challenged.

What else could I do? I sat down and asked her to pass me the syrup.