Instant coffee

I used to have a great and hulking disrespect for instant coffee, which included instant-coffee-users in its raging scope. It ranked up there in my mind with those sad buckets of Folgers that were the staple of church kitchens everywhere in the 90s - the stuff that could’ve been a mix of cardboard and sawdust. You can’t even call it coffee; not really.

I am a self-identified coffee snob, and sometimes even an identified-by-others coffee snob. I have extremely definite opinions on what makes a “good coffee,” be it pourover, stovetop, French press (or cafetière, as my adopted homeland calls it), espresso… and don’t even get me started on milk.
(I wrote an essay once about how the Flat White can and should be defined. Maybe I’ll share it here someday.)

I am, however, not picky. I’ll drink just about anything, eat just about anything (certain recently developed allergies notwithstanding). I was raised to clear my plate without complaint, and to be mindful of waste to the point of hyper-fixation, so I am intimately familiar with the stoic consumption of anything that’s actually edible. Add to this that out on tour, you’re subject to the whims of the universe, and google as you may for a good ol’ cup o’ Joe, there are only so many $8 lattes you can disgustedly bin (the answer is one) before you desperately admit you just need a little caffeine. Even when worst comes to worst, you need your hit. So maybe it’s because I’ve had some truly terrible brews over the years. Maybe it’s because I have a soft spot in my heart for diner coffee. However it came to pass, somehow, quietly, that weird brown dust has wormed its way into my heart.

I blame my housemate, Emily, entirely; she got me hooked on instant decaf for a nice little afternoon treat (“it’s almost like hot chocolate!” I said delightedly to her nodding assent), and from there I slowly slid into the joy of a lazy coffee. Do you know how blissful it is to just stir up a little mug of water and magic powder and get the drink you were hoping for? I didn’t. I ridiculed it, in fact.
But now? I’m a convert.

Don’t get me wrong - I still heartily enjoy and appreciate a well-brewed cafetière, pourover, latte and the like. In fact, we just had some truly heavenly coffee at a roastery in Llanberis (Ceirios Coffee - uff da, what a dream) and we live within spitting distance of my favourite coffee place in Liverpool, Sunday. I love making an intentional carafe for my officemates. But a latte every day is no way for my wallet to live a satisfied & healthy life, even if my tummy & tastebuds would approve. And the time isn’t always available to me to make slow coffee.

So. Especially for this period of my life, where I spend an inordinate amount of time keeping an eye on a wonderful wobbly toddler, something quick and easy is the kind of caffeine break I need. Thanks, instant coffee, for being actually-pretty-okay.

Honestly, it’s fine. Just have a cup already and get over yourself.