What’s a gal gotta do to get a decent cup of coffee anymore?

What I really mean is: How does a gal make a decent cup of coffee?

I am a coffee lover. Not the gourmet, fancy pantsy stuff, although
if you offer it to me, I’ll gladly drink it.
No, I’m talking about the regular and humble real deal. The simple cup of joe.
Bold. Unpretentious.

Childhood memories hearken back to a home filled with the aroma
of coffee brewing. In the morning, afternoon or evening a pot of
coffee was always and only a turn of the tap and a scoop of grounds
away. We have Swedish blood in the family, so that can be where
all the coffee drinking and dunking came about.

For me, coffee goes hand in hand with all sorts
of mostly positive events in my life where that extra boost was-is welcomed.
For me, having a cup of coffee, has always carried with it a sense of
excitement, anticipation and gladness.
Like waking up, meetings with interesting people, and making writing deadlines.

How about a cup of coffee?
Just the question asked implies the visit is lengthened.
Want some coffee?
Implies the person asking wants to partake with you even for just this simple act.
Let’s get coffee.
Means a shared moment of pleasure amidst the minutae and craziness
of daily living.

Recently, I cleaned out a cupboard and in the pile of get-rid-ofs were
two travel coffee mugs that were staineless steel, leak proof, spill proof
otherwise perfectly good cups.
Why did I get rid of them?
Because whenever I’d take my steaming cup of coffee on the road I’d
get one sip into my mouth and want to gag. That’s why.
I figured it was the cup gone sour, or the lid or something.
I then purchased a new one. Porceleain. And I brought a steaming cup of coffee
on the road and took a sip from my new mug and. Wanted. To. Gag!

To my complete and utter surprise it wasn’t the cups at all.
It was (and is) MY coffee that tastes so terrible.
How depressing is that?
I can’t cook much as it is, but now I discover my coffee is crappy.
Y’know what I mean, I have two basic recipes I can successfully serve and that’s about it.
I’m the gal who-may-not-make-meals,
but-I-sure-can-make-reservations, that gal.
However, I always thought, Well, at least my coffee is alright.
Now I find I don’t even pass muster with that.
I may as well give guests a tea bag to suck on.

I’m aware of the gezillion cafes, bistros and coffee shops all touting
good java. Varieties to please every possible connoisseur and their
individual palates for flavor, acidity, body, aroma, and, yes, finish.

From exotic blends to expensive brews to growing green to fair trade–
from coffee klatches to coffee breaks to coffee clubs.
So, I’ve been far and wide searching for the way I can make a perfect cup of coffee.

I’ve tried ultra clean pots, super cold and filtered water, freshly ground beans,
prepackaged instants and exotic flavors from all continents including
places I’ve never heard of like Maracaibo.
And my quest continues.
Don’t know how long it’ll take or if I’ll ever get there.

Meanwhile, wanna go grab a cup of coffee?