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Tim Horton's coffee makes me happy. It places me into a good mood
invulnerable even to the cranky presence of the mildly insane piano
client whose house I currently en route too.
It may even be my favorite coffee ever. Why? What makes it in any way
special? And how much of my opinion is due to the significant amount of
Tim Horton's coffee my wife and I consumed on our honeymoon?
True, it not like Newfoundland has a plethora of other coffee options, but still,
it's really solid coffee by most any standard: Fresh, hot, and with a suspiciously
unique flavor that I can never figure out, and therefore manages to spark a
specific craving for THEIR coffee, as opposed to all others.
I assume this is no accident.
Yet I cant help asking how much positive emotional association is responsible for
this particular acquired taste. Is it irrational to say that Tim Horton's coffee
is the best because it reminds me of times pleasant? Some would say that thinking
that any coffee tastes good is in itself an irrational belief.
The first time I remember ever actually enjoying coffee was during a very specific
car ride home with my Mom. We were talking about toys. I was 12, and she had
just bought me an Obi-Wan Kenobi action figure. It was sitting on the dashboard,
next to my Mom's travel mug, with it's shiny blue lightsaber challenging invisible
enemies. I loved the fact that my mom had put aside her personal value system
to buy me a pointless toy. The action figure now sits in a forgotten box in a
forgotten room, but the memory seems to be thriving just fine. Thanks mom.
The coffee was "Vermont Maple Nut", and it had far too much cream and sugar
in it. At least, by my current standards. I didn't care. It fact... I quite liked it that
way. If the coffee was black, I would never have taken that first happy sip.
Are gateway experiences dangerous? Maybe so, but they they also often manage
to be embarrassing in retrospect. We try to forget the transistional forms we used to
be, content in the knowledge that THIS time we got it right. Today, finally, I am a
person I will still be proud of tomorrow. Yup. This version of me is the most defensible
one EVER...
And yet the fact remains that at the time we sincerely enjoyed a belief or taste that
now seems transparently foolish. I must accept the responsibly that it was a mistake
I enjoyed making.
Sheila is the reason I stopped putting sugar in my coffee.
Point blank.
It was a conversation, I think, about sweet deserts, and how the unbridled bitter
of the coffee etched the sugar from off her teeth. I can't say for sure if it was her
judgmental opinion of sugar, or her fondness for bitter, or both, but for me it was
like waking up.
Coffee.
No sugar.
Oh.
Why didn't I think of that?
I must confess, the actual transformation-of-behavior
I slowly used less and less sugar until it was just a bit. A few shiny grains
to "take the edge off". Eventually I realized I didn't even need them.
I was ok with the bitter. Coffee is bitter.
Some would find it curious that even after this enlightenment I still use cream.
I suppose my defense is that cream does not really mask the bitterness as sugar
does, but it only dances with it. It reminds me that the bitterness is not the only
thing that matters, and it gives the other shy flavors a place to play.
I may be fooling myself.
Still, the lesson was learned. Bitter is just coffee being honest. There still is much
place in this world for uncomplicated sweetness, and for that we have a vast array
of other lovely beverages, but please- don't ask my coffee to lie to me.
After all, I don't play with action figures anymore.
Well, rarely...
And only in the company of children.
invulnerable even to the cranky presence of the mildly insane piano
client whose house I currently en route too.
It may even be my favorite coffee ever. Why? What makes it in any way
special? And how much of my opinion is due to the significant amount of
Tim Horton's coffee my wife and I consumed on our honeymoon?
True, it not like Newfoundland has a plethora of other coffee options, but still,
it's really solid coffee by most any standard: Fresh, hot, and with a suspiciously
unique flavor that I can never figure out, and therefore manages to spark a
specific craving for THEIR coffee, as opposed to all others.
I assume this is no accident.
Yet I cant help asking how much positive emotional association is responsible for
this particular acquired taste. Is it irrational to say that Tim Horton's coffee
is the best because it reminds me of times pleasant? Some would say that thinking
that any coffee tastes good is in itself an irrational belief.
The first time I remember ever actually enjoying coffee was during a very specific
car ride home with my Mom. We were talking about toys. I was 12, and she had
just bought me an Obi-Wan Kenobi action figure. It was sitting on the dashboard,
next to my Mom's travel mug, with it's shiny blue lightsaber challenging invisible
enemies. I loved the fact that my mom had put aside her personal value system
to buy me a pointless toy. The action figure now sits in a forgotten box in a
forgotten room, but the memory seems to be thriving just fine. Thanks mom.
The coffee was "Vermont Maple Nut", and it had far too much cream and sugar
in it. At least, by my current standards. I didn't care. It fact... I quite liked it that
way. If the coffee was black, I would never have taken that first happy sip.
Are gateway experiences dangerous? Maybe so, but they they also often manage
to be embarrassing in retrospect. We try to forget the transistional forms we used to
be, content in the knowledge that THIS time we got it right. Today, finally, I am a
person I will still be proud of tomorrow. Yup. This version of me is the most defensible
one EVER...
And yet the fact remains that at the time we sincerely enjoyed a belief or taste that
now seems transparently foolish. I must accept the responsibly that it was a mistake
I enjoyed making.
Sheila is the reason I stopped putting sugar in my coffee.
Point blank.
It was a conversation, I think, about sweet deserts, and how the unbridled bitter
of the coffee etched the sugar from off her teeth. I can't say for sure if it was her
judgmental opinion of sugar, or her fondness for bitter, or both, but for me it was
like waking up.
Coffee.
No sugar.
Oh.
Why didn't I think of that?
I must confess, the actual transformation-of-behavior
I slowly used less and less sugar until it was just a bit. A few shiny grains
to "take the edge off". Eventually I realized I didn't even need them.
I was ok with the bitter. Coffee is bitter.
Some would find it curious that even after this enlightenment I still use cream.
I suppose my defense is that cream does not really mask the bitterness as sugar
does, but it only dances with it. It reminds me that the bitterness is not the only
thing that matters, and it gives the other shy flavors a place to play.
I may be fooling myself.
Still, the lesson was learned. Bitter is just coffee being honest. There still is much
place in this world for uncomplicated sweetness, and for that we have a vast array
of other lovely beverages, but please- don't ask my coffee to lie to me.
After all, I don't play with action figures anymore.
Well, rarely...
And only in the company of children.
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