Instant Coffee

I remember my gateway into liking coffee.  Pop and I would go to Coffee Hound in town and get a caramel latte, sit and talk about everything and nothing.  Those moments were vastly important for connection and as a byproduct I grew to understand that there was a difference between the coffee available during fellowship time at church and something more...artisanal.  Coffee was a lifeblood for a lot of folks I knew, but I hadn't understood that it could be good.  

Forever and a year ago, Andy bought me an espresso maker.  It might have been for our anniversary or my birthday--Andy does not tend to give things on the "right" day because he's so genuinely excited to give things--but in typical Andy-magic fashion, he found an incredible deal on Craig's List or some such.  At first, I remember thinking that this was just going to take up our limited counter space.  And yet, after we got past the learning curve, I loved having it in our home.  I made a lot of cappuccino, and we wore that machine into the ground, having tried a few outlets for repair and finding that fixing it was going to cost as much as a new one.  

We switched to using a French press after that, since Andy had been given a swanky R2D2 one for Christmas one year.  We ground beans each time, and eventually managed to break this one, too.  

THEN, I learned how to make drip coffee.  It was all completely backwards, but that was the way of it.  And, yes, we did run that machine into the ground as well.

...and literally as I write this, I'm drinking instant coffee from Aldi.  

That was the flavor I wanted today.  Our normal French press has cleanup involved:  pulling out the bag of beans and the grinder, grinding the beans, getting the kettle going, transferring the grounds to the French press, waiting, and disposing of the grounds after.  It is a richer cup and normally worth the steps, to be certain, but just not what I wanted in the moment while cranking through my class readings (and taking a break for writing).  Instant is fast--just microwaving some water and throw in a spoonful--and the only cleanup is putting the jar back in the cupboard afterwards.  Moreover, I wanted the comfort of something that tasted artificial.  

It's in a similar vein, I think, of craving a particular dessert, finding that delight and emotional connection toward a particular indulgence and flavor.  There is something reassuring in the occasional artificial.  Homemade macaroni and cheese is fantastic; yet, there are days where the blue box is exactly the flavor I'm looking for.  Maybe it harkens back to something about childhood, where it was such a treat to get a Happy Meal for supper.  We had homecooked meals made with love and fresh ingredients, still there is comfort in the immediacy and that particular flavor that is probably mostly preservatives.  Or salt.  Or both.  Or maybe it's an existential break, to not have to question whether something is "real" for a moment.  

Or maybe it's just coffee.