You know, I actually don’t remember specifically when I switched to decaf. It was nearing the end of last semester, and I was making about a pot of coffee a day, and determining that if I was going to drink the whole pot it ought to be decaf. And then I started ordering decaf at coffeehouses (and getting annoyed that there’s no such thing as a decaf Frappuccino). And then we ran out of regular coffee and I just wound up buying more decaf. It wasn’t a resolution; I just grew into it over the summer.
Not that there’s anything wrong with caffeine per se, but it neither wakes me up in the morning, nor keeps me awake at night. All it does is make me twitchy; and when I sleep on caffeine I get what the medievals called “waking dreams,” where all my dream-actions would be repetitive things I dislike doing anyway: Raking leaves, grading papers, washing dishes, or even (flashing all the way back to my teen years) delivering newspapers and assembling Whoppers. I realized that caffeine was doing me no good, and this was only after going off the stuff.
It’s strange when you realize you became mature for no good reason.
But the coffee habit is still around. Just everything’s decaf now. I was brewing some Antiguan coffee last night and sampling the stuff—good stuff, by the way; Gevalia sells it—and ranting at Mike about what the big deal was.
I actually grew up disliking coffee. This is not strange considering what Dad considered coffee. When it comes to food, Dad insists on buying the very cheapest. This means that the crap that Dad used for coffee was the two-dollar cans of Canea canephora, otherwise known as robusta coffee, a species of coffee that grows just about anywhere, is dirt-cheap, is full of caffeine, and when brewed tastes like ash and acid. Most cheap coffees are at least 50 percent robusta. Folgers used to make their coffee out of robusta and “flavor crystals,” which I believe was
Dad doesn’t drink coffee for fun. He makes what the rest of the family calls “jet fuel”: he takes a three-inch strainer, fills it with two tablespoons of grounds, pours hot water through it, and lets the upper part of the hot water steep in the strainer and grounds. This he drinks. If he wants to be extra awake, he’ll have several cups. The bottom part of the cup has the consistency of slurry and tastes like it. Consequently, I had no interest in coffee until college.
It wasn’t for the caffeine, either. For caffeine, I had Jolt Cola and lots of it. I became a little too legendary for drinking six-packs of Jolt and working three nights in a row on the Sac State Hornet without sleep. When I finally crashed, I was so incoherent that people found it wildly amusing. My answers to questions would make no bloody sense. So they’d drag me off to my editor’s apartment and have me sleep it off. (I can still easily pull all-nighters, uncaffeinated, if I’m not careful.)
It started when I was taking Sac State classes in the day and working at the Sacramento Observer at night. The bosses liked the good stuff, but they liked it watery enough to see through, and one evening I was cold and thirsty and figured if I dumped enough sugar into it I could tolerate it. It was good enough to have another cup… with less sugar. Then another, with still less. Then I realized, to my surprise, that I liked this stuff.
Pretty soon the bosses were wondering where all the coffee was going. They didn't suspect it was me; I was already hyper before discovering coffee. They sorta figured it out when the coffee mugs began piling up around my workstation.
The coffee-snobbery thus came early. If you drink a lot of it, you start to notice differences in the types of coffee. I figured, “Hey, I like coffee now, I’ll have some of Dad’s” and discovered why I never liked coffee before. I discovered there’s a huge difference between the dirt-cheap cans in the grocery store and the coffee in the bins with the grinder. (Now there’s less of a difference, as coffee can makers realized they have to compete with coffeehouses.) I tried new coffee blends at the coffeehouses to figure out my favorites. Starbucks finally came to northern California, and I rejoiced. And Mom became worried that I might be a caffeine addict. (But when 20/20 profiled caffeine addicts who drank at least five pots a day, I pointed out that Mom had nothing to worry about. By then I was drinking decaf in the afternoons.)
I’ve given up coffee for Lent three times. The first time was tricky only for the first two weeks. After that it got too easy… plus I discovered I was praying less. Most people don’t say grace over their drinks. I don’t either. (I’m still not entirely sure why we don’t.) But when I get coffee I am usually so appreciative that I thank Jesus for it, and sometimes this thank-you turns into a conversation. So when I don’t get my coffee, I pray less… which kinda runs contrary to the point behind Lent. So the next Lent I gave up cheesy snacks. Now that was hard.
Because it’s about the coffee, not the caffeine, sometimes my behavior surprises other coffee drinkers. Some still don't understand why I would bother with decaf. Some are amazed when I go to Starbucks or any other coffeehouse and order… coffee. (Not a lattΓ©, not a mocha, not a Frappuccino, but coffee.) The coffee snobs are horrified when I buy coffee from convenience stores. (They’re not my first choice, but they are open at 4 a.m.) Or McDonald’s. Or even vending machines. Most wonder why I drink hot coffee on warm days. Or take my 24-ounce mugs to class, carry them most places, and sometimes whip out my 96-ounce mug just to scare ’em. (To be honest, I've never filled the 96-ounce mug past halfway. But it’s not because I won’t drink that much; it’s because the coffee gets cold.)
And what also astounds them is when they discover I also drink tea. Sometimes instead of coffee. Which puzzles them; they already had me pegged as a stereotypical coffee junkie, and here I am drinking something that’s usually associated with old ladies and Brits. Hey, I like tea too. Sometimes with cream and lemon.
…Come to think of it, I don’t think I've had any Jolt Cola in 10 years.
But enough about my drinking habits.