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How can you hate the taste of something that smells so good?

My parents have always been coffee drinkers. I can’t recall a day that didn’t start with the smell and sound of coffee brewing in the kitchen. They weren’t coffee snobs, but they did have some favorites. I think one of them was called Kona.

Having a cup of coffee was synonymous with visiting. Company came over and they were handed a cup of joe practically before they sat down. I even remember our small group of neighbors using coffee as the outcome of a bet. Loser had to buy a pound of the winners’ favorite.

Even with all the happy memories surrounding this brown liquid, I’ve never grown to like the taste. I’ve tried, several times. It just tastes burnt to me. It smells wonderful, right up until it touches my tongue. Ick.

One time when I was sick, my mom made me drink some of that fizzy stuff that’s supposed to settle your stomach. It tastes even worse than coffee. My cousin was visiting and she made a pact with me. If I would drink my medicine, she would drink a cup of coffee. (She hated it just as much as I did.) Now that’s love!

There was only one time when I forced myself to drink a cup of coffee. It was necessary to my safety. I had just arrived in Grand Junction after a very long flight. (Six hours, I think). I was tired and sunburned. Then next leg of my journey involved driving to Greeley where I was going to college. Another 5 hours including stopping in Glenwood Canyon for road construction – but that’s another story. I made it as far as Idaho Springs before I had to pull over. I went to a convenience store for my cup of stamina. Yummy.

For Christmas last year, my husband bought me one of those coffee makers where you put the cute little cups in the top and it trickles through to your cup. Go figure. He doesn’t drink coffee, either! It’s great for making tea, too, by the way.

This spring, my son’s girlfriend came for a visit. She saw my machine, went to the store and came back with a box of the cute little cups of coffee. When she left, she forgot to take her extras with her. As I was putting the box up in the cupboard, I read the label. Cappuccino.  Hmm. Isn’t that just another name for coffee? It claimed to be caramel flavored.

Glancing around and finding myself alone, I put one of the cups into the machine. And you know what? I LIKED it! That’s right. It is now my drink of choice. Just don’t tell anyone.