Alright, let’s talk about this. I’ve been bumping into these types more and more lately. You know the ones. The folks whose entire being seems to revolve around coffee. It’s not just a drink for them; it’s practically their entire identity, their whole public persona.
My Own Little Experiment
So, there I was, seeing all this coffee fanaticism. I thought, “What am I missing here?” Maybe there’s something to it. So, I decided to dip my toes in. I didn’t plan on going full-blown coffee snob, but I wanted to see what the fuss was about. My first step was simple: I ditched my ancient, crusty coffee maker. I went out and got a slightly fancier one, nothing too crazy, just something that promised a better brew.
Then I started hearing the whispers. “You gotta grind your own beans, man.” Okay, fine. So, I found myself in a store, looking at coffee grinders. I picked one up – a burr grinder, they called it. Not the top-of-the-line model, just something to get the job done. I took it home, bought some “artisanal” beans (whatever that means), and the next morning, I ground them up. I gotta admit, the smell was pretty good. I started thinking, “Okay, maybe there’s something to this.”
Things Got… Involved
That’s when it started to escalate. I was browsing online, you know, just looking, and suddenly I was reading about “pour-over techniques” and “optimal water temperature.” Before I knew it, I was actually considering buying a special kettle with a long, skinny spout. And I did. I actually bought the silly thing.
Then came the scale. Yeah, a digital kitchen scale. Because apparently, you need to weigh your coffee beans. And then you need to weigh your water. You gotta get the “ratio” right. My morning routine, which used to be “scoop coffee, add water, press button,” turned into this whole elaborate ritual. It felt like I was conducting a science experiment just to get a cup of joe.
- I measured the beans.
- I heated the water to a specific temperature (or tried to).
- I poured the water ever so slowly in a specific circular motion I saw some guy do in a video.
- I even timed the whole damn process.
I tried talking the talk too. I’d be at a coffee shop and casually drop terms like “bloom” or “extraction.” I remember asking a barista about the “flavor notes” of their single-origin. He just sort of blinked at me. I think he knew I was a total fraud.
The Realization Hit Me
And that’s when it clicked. For a lot of these people, the coffee itself felt secondary. It was all about the performance. It was about being seen as a “coffee person.” It was about the gear, the intricate steps, the vocabulary. It was about posting that perfectly lit photo of their setup on social media. The actual enjoyment of the coffee seemed almost like an afterthought.
I started noticing how conversations would get dominated by their latest coffee bean haul or their new, even more complicated brewing device. If you mentioned you just used a regular coffee pot, you’d get this look of pity, like you were some kind of savage. It was exhausting. The pressure to be “into” coffee at that level was just too much.
So, What Did I End Up Doing?
I pretty much dialed it all way back. I got tired of the charade. I realized that all that fuss was actually taking away from my enjoyment of a simple cup of coffee. I still use my grinder sometimes, and I appreciate a good quality bean. But the whole song and dance? Nah, I’m good.
I found out that I just want a decent, hot cup of coffee to start my day. I don’t need it to define me. If I’m in a rush, I’ll make it quick and easy. No guilt. Life’s too short to turn your morning coffee into a thesis defense.
Honestly, I think some of these folks are just trying to make themselves feel more interesting by latching onto this coffee thing. Or maybe they just really, really like the smell of their own brewing. Me? I’ll take my simple coffee and then maybe talk about something else. Anything else, really.
