Despite all my talk about how I don’t like Christmas presents and if you insist on getting me something, give me books, I kinda changed my mind. Just a little bit. There’s something else on my Christmas list now.
I’d really, really like a latte maker.
I shared this with Michael, who immediately shot me a look of utter horror and betrayal. “Are you serious?” he asked.
Oh, yes. Mama is serious.
“But…but…we don’t drink coffee! It’s who we are!”
Dear, sweet man. Times they are a-changin’
What he said is true. “We” don’t drink coffee. We never have. He survived medical school with a whole lotta Dr. Pepper. “We” love the smell, but not the taste. I tried a few times to drink it, doctored up with a ton of cream and sugar, but I still couldn’t get past the bitter taste. Michael noted that coffee is an acquired taste, which is a nice way of saying it tastes nasty. So “we” don’t drink coffee.
A few years ago, we bought a coffee maker at a garage sale for $5 for the sole purpose of having it when coffee drinkers come to visit. Our guests have to make their own coffee, though, because we have no clue where to start. We don’t drink coffee.
Then two summers ago, at the height of mommy stress and exhaustion, we went on vacation with our friends, the Dupps, who belong to the league of Serious Coffee Drinkers. Gretchen then introduced me to Frappaccino. Mocha, Caramel, Coffee, and Vanilla. “It will help you get out of bed,” she told me, “if you know you have coffee waiting for you.”
So I tried it. It was goooood. A little piece of sweet, milky, coffee heaven.
(Incidentally, Gretchen also introduced me to Costco about the same time, where Frappaccino is sold by the case, and they even send their members coupons a few times a year for the Frappaccino. My friends, upon hearing of my Frappaccino love affair, started saving their coupons for me so I could partake of maximum sweet milky coffee goodness at a discount price.)
Last week, we went to chilly Denver for Thanksgiving to see Michael’s brother and SIL, who are also coffee drinkers. One day Michael and I took our kids to the Denver Nature & Science Museum – which was very, very cool – and when we were driving back to their house after a full day at the museum, we were tired and cold, and the kids wanted milkshakes, and I had already consumed 67 grams of sugar at the museum snack shop because I was about to pass out and was on the verge of getting really grouchy so I bought a bottle of pink lemonade and a chocolate-chocolate chip cookie, which looked soft but was actually very hard and dry, but I ate it anyway because, like I said, I was about to pass out from hungry grouchiness.
So we were going through the drive-thru at McD’s, and I didn’t need another 67 grams of sugar contained within a Dr. Pepper, but I was thirsty and I needed caffeine, so I decided to jump and try a hazelnut latte McCafe. A small, in case I didn’t like it.
Sweet mercy, I did. I did like it! And I would drink it in a house, and I would drink it with a mouse, and I would drink it here or there, I would drink it anywhere. I like it, I like it, Sam-I-Am!
Later during our stay, my sweet SIL Stacey offered me a latte from their uberchic latte maker. I accepted. And it was good.
Michael looked on in horror. Our entire identity as a coffee-hating married couple of almost 14 years has shattered. One of us has defected. He’s having a little bit of a hard time with the change.
He almost fell over when he saw me approaching him after church on Sunday carrying a Nutty Cow – another hazelnut latte with a different name from the little coffee shop in our church lobby. A coffee by any other name does, in fact, taste as sweet.
I have to confess that I am still completely ignorant about the whole coffee thing. I googled “latte makers” just to price them out and see which ones were highly rated, then I got so confused that I had to google “the difference between espresso and latte” and in the meantime learned what a cappuccino is because apparently you can make all three with the same machine.
Espresso = really strong coffee in small amounts.
Cappaccino = espresso with milk on top.
Latte = a little coffee and a whole lot of hot milk.
So basically, latte is a hot Frappaccino. I loooove the latte.
I know Michael is terrified of the prospect of waking up one morning to find me drinking black coffee out of a mug the size of a small child. Frappaccino is simply the gateway drug for coffee drinkers. It leads only to darker, hotter, more addictive beverages.
I’m sorry, honey.
(But not really.)
You can still buy me books. I’ll just read them with my nice, warm, cozy latte at my side.