I’ll have a flat white with no milk please.

Milk with coffee is an abomination.
There, I said it.
It’s an abomination and the only way to save it is with chocolate.
Don’t believe me? Just ask any woman who’s currently shedding her endometrial lining if chocolate can indeed fix everything and they will fastidiously agree.
Actually on second thought don’t bother, it’ll likely make them think that you’re openly offering chocolate and if you don’t have any on hand it could get messy.
No, no not that kind of messy just lots of blood. Your blood. Not theirs. I’m not insinuating that they’d viscously attack you with a weapon formed of…
You know what, let’s just move along.

I really like my coffee. To the point that I’m frequently mistaken for someone that actually knows shit about coffee which the risk of always ordering long blacks.
I can see baristas ears perk up, meerkats raising their inquisitive heads above the safety of the espresso machine to zero in on the possible familiarity of a connoisseur such as themselves.
Then there comes the inevitable conversation as they tell me the origin of the bean and the tasting notes and whatever fancy shit someone with a beard and a poor mans Macklemore haircut in a flannel shirt (ie: Me) would be interested in knowing. Like it enhances the fucking experience or some shit.
And all the while I channel my deeply honed skills acquired from over a decade of retail work combined with having full on one sided conversations with a very chatty but gibberish spouting toddler.
I raise my eyebrows in the universally accepted position of “Oh is that right?” put on the half frown that shouts “You don’t say” and nod in slow motion till I feel it’s my turn to talk and then say something like ‘Very nice, I thought it was from Botswana I could tell by the subtle notes of lion dingle berries.’

I’ve had coffee from espresso machines, coffee bags, French press, aeropress, percolators, a cornucopia of various pods, cold filtered, slow drip, infusion, instant. Shit I’ve even had coffee from the waste water in a mops bucket.
At least I think that’s what it was. It was in America and I have the feeling that American coffee is made by spilling ground coffee on the floor then mopping it up and straining the coffee out of the brackish bucket water several minutes later.
It’s the only way to explain the weakness and overall boot-sole taste.

And I’ve enjoyed and shared coffee with friends, family, enemies, frienemies, Wifs, spawn, partners, fuck buddies, random overly friendly strangers in cafes that want to borrow the paper then keep trying to strike up conversation about shit they read when all I want is for a small tactically aimed meteorite to pierce the upper left quadrant of their imbecilic skull at 400km/hr so I can enjoy my drink in peace, and one time even a dog.

You ever go out to a pub or club and notice some dude who’s there with his friends and they all have beers or mixers or some shit and he’s got a cup of black coffee?
That’s me! I’m the guy!

But for all the millions of cups I’ve downed, for all the caffeine highs I’ve roller coastered my way through, and for all the memorable experience’s I’ve had with hot bean water in my hand, there is one cup that I remember every single time I add milk to any coffee.

When I was in my teens, we were visiting my grandparents house.

I went into the kitchen to make myself a coffee. In went the sugar, in went the instant grounds (I may be a snob now but back in the 1920’s instant was the best you could get) and then the hot water. All things mixed as they should to make a nice sweet black coffee.
I then folded open the carton and poured in my usual dash of milk while stirring.
Clearly I didn’t put in enough because it was still black. I kept stirring and added a little more. Still black.
A little more.
Still black.
A lot more…
I finally scooped my spoon across the bottom of the cup and raised it above the jet black liquid to reveal a flaky white gelatinous mess sitting in the concave cusp of the teaspoon.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is not actually the real reason I loathe milk with coffee.

I loathe it because it’s disgusting and makes the coffee taste like shit. Plus it leaves a sour taste in your mouth after.

Just drink it black for fucks sake.

And eat your steaks rare, blood is where the flavor lives.

And stop putting coke in with your whiskey you fucks! That’s what ice and it’s warm cousin water are for.

Sorry for wasting your time again.

– Jacob.

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