If You Could Burn Water ...

By Rory McClannahan

About 74 percent of the people in America start the day off with at least one cup of coffee. That’s roughly about 150 million people.

I’m not one of them. I am one of the minority of people in the country, and the world, who does not like the taste of coffee. I suspect, though, that there a lot of that 150 million who are like me and do not like the taste, yet are addicted to that bitter drink. So, let’s just say that I am one of the proud few who has not bowed to the peer pressure imposed upon society by the coffee culture.

The culture around coffee is so prevalent that you can’t even call it a “subculture.” It is part of the main event and an important part of who we are as a society. I know this because when someone learns I don’t drink coffee, I get looks as though I had just removed my clothing in public. “How could you not drink coffee?” I’m asked in an incredulous tone. It’s the same sort of shock people show when they learn that I don’t really like the Beatles that much.

“I don’t know how you make it through your day,” more than one person has told me. Then they proceed to tell me about their addiction, including the number of cups they have. While not real important information, it is good to know that it’s best to go to the dentist in the morning before the afternoon caffeine shakes hit.

As someone on the outside of this cultural touchstone, it is amazing to me how important coffee is to many people. It is not just a beverage loaded with caffeine, it is a part of our social identity. The first coffee houses date back to the 1500s.

Without very little prompting, just about everyone will tell you their coffee preferences. To my ears, it sounds as if Charlie Brown’s parents are talking to me, “blah, blah, blah.” Apparently, there are a lot of different ways to enjoy coffee and there are a lot of different styles of coffee. Please don’t ask me to explain them because I didn’t care to read the Wikipedia article describing them. If you want to know about lattes or espresso or Keurig pots and percolators, it’s best not to ask me. Not only do I not care, I’ve never even tried to be one of the cool kids and learn the lingo.

However, I have thought it funny when someone suggests I make coffee. That’s when coffee drinkers learn that it is never a good idea to leave preparation of coffee to someone who doesn’t drink it. I do not know how to make coffee, and when forced to do so I usually guess. I’ve heard that the end product is not very good.

I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you what is good coffee and what is bad coffee, it all tastes wretched to me and it’s even worse when I have to smell it on someone’s breath. If you could burn water, it would taste like coffee.

As being in a clear minority in terms of coffee consumption, I still have to live in the coffee culture. I have to wonder why it is that nearly every office in America pays for its employees to have coffee, but none has a fridge full of energy drinks.

I have to smile and act normal as you sick bastards inhale the smell of brewing coffee and make comments about how wonderful the aroma is. Personally, that smell makes me a little nauseous.

It’s just as well that I don’t drink coffee. At this late in my life I don’t think I could adapt to the culture. I have, on occasion, found myself standing in line at a trendy coffee place, forced there by either friends or employers. Although I always order something other than coffee – lame hot chocolate, if you must know – I still felt enormous pressure to perform my order according to established protocols of which I know little. Even though I was a stranger in a strange land, I found no help. I would listen to the people in front of me giving their orders, and it seemed very elaborate. I am so unfamiliar with the terms I can’t even comically list them off in a smarmy comedic style, but I did gather that there was something more than the straight black coffee my dad always drank.

I also felt the impatience of the other folks in line, which drifted off them like stem from a vent. If an order was fumbled or was taking too long, you could feel the heat of a dozen insufferable sighs and indignant mumbles aimed at your neck. It was understood that you better know what you want when you get to the front of the line or you should step back and gather your thoughts.

It makes me wonder how these people ever learned they liked their coffee in one complicated recipe over another. And honestly, I felt that some of those orders had little to do with actual coffee. Cinnamon? Pumkin spice? Whipped cream? Like I said earlier, I think there are a lot of people who don’t like the taste of coffee, but cave into the peer pressure in order to be part of the culture.

I’m not saying I’m better than anyone else. I just don’t like coffee. And before you tell me that I probably just haven’t had “good” coffee just stop. Years ago a former girlfriend chastised me about my palate and that convinced me that every now and then I should try foods and drinks to make sure I still didn’t like them. It was sound advice and I do this. I’ve changed my mind on some things – like bell peppers and tomatoes. (Although with tomatoes I like them chopped up, I still can’t seem to enjoy a giant slice on my burger, but I will tolerate it.) I like cucumber on my salad, but find they give me bad indigestion. Asparagus is okay, I guess, but the texture is off-putting.

Some things are still hated, like sauerkraut, and other things have left an indelible mark upon me that even the thought of it makes me nauseous. (Yeah, I’m looking at you liver and onions.)

Coffee, though, I try every now and then, just to see if I’ll ever be able to join the club with everyone else. I’ve tried it in all different flavors and added sugar and cream and just about everything else. I will concede that Irish whiskey does make it somewhat palpable, but if I had my druthers, I’d drink the whisky without the coffee.

When I decided to write this silly little essay about coffee, I realized I really didn’t know that much about it. I knew it came from beans that were somehow grown, roasted and ground. I know there are some people who are real serious about how the beans are grown, picked, roasted and ground, but most folks just buy a can of the stuff at the supermarket.

As far as I knew, coffee is grown in Columbia and picked by some guy named Juan Valdez. In truth, I read on the Wikipedia page, coffee probably originated in Ethiopia and really came into its own in Yemen in the 14^th century. Now, most of the world’s coffee is grown in Brazil, where producers pretty much ripped out a bunch of rain forest to grow it. Apparently, those same producers exploit the labor used to pick the coffee beans.

I also learned that when it comes to drinking coffee, the Scandinavians have every else in the world beat. While Americans consume about 5 pounds annually per capita, Finland leads the world in consumption, using more that 26 pounds of coffee a year per capita.

It’s obvious that if people don’t exactly love their coffee, they certainly need their coffee. As a minority, non-coffee drinkers are probably the last group in which it is acceptable for the majority to mock.

I just wish they’d suck on a breath mint before giving me a hard time.