by Julia Carnahan
When my son was small he knew that Mommy could not get up unless the coffee was dripping. We would prepare the coffee maker the night before and he would push the button to start the dripping in the morning! He is now grown but, I always know when he has been by the house when we have been out because, it always smells like coffee! If there is any left in the pot he always finishes what he finds. If not he makes fresh.
by Matt Charney
The clinical definition of addiction, according to the DSM IV, includes several considerations. The shrinks say that among these factors, addiction exists in situations where the user begins to plan their life around the substance in question, devoting inordinate time and resources to obtain the user’s drug of choice. Meeting both these criteria, for purposes of diagnoses, establishes an addiction. Therefore, it’s time to make a confession: “Hi, my name is Matt, and I’m addicted to coffee.”
I’m not talking about 7-11 sludge, or the crystalline instant variety. An addict like me doesn’t even consider these coffees; they’re more like a methadone supplement until I can get my fix.
No, I’m talking the good stuff: The type of coffee with an aroma that can fill a room and wake you up just by taking a whiff. The type of coffee with a smooth, sweet taste that doesn’t require 8 packets of Splenda to make it palatable. The type of coffee that you can drink a cup in the morning, get the jolt needed to face another day of reality, and not worry about headaches, shaking and irritability three hours later.
If you know coffee, you know what I’m talking about. The perfect pot. For us addicts, it’s something we spend years chasing after, spending big bucks and driving all over town to specialty retailers and out of the way coffee houses in pursuit of. Most of these trips end up in disappointment (or a Starbucks, as an absolute last resort).
I’m happy to report, however, that I’ve scored probably the world’s best hook-up to feed my addiction. North Star Fine Coffees isn’t only the good stuff, it’s the best stuff: quite literally, the most outstanding coffee I’ve ever tasted. I’m pretty sure you’ll feel the same way.
I no longer have to run around town looking for that perfect cup; instead, North Star delivers directly to my front door. North Star takes the time to grind the beans especially for my French Press to make it even easier. Breaking through the airtight packaging releases an aroma that instantly transforms my living room into Juan Valdez’s hacienda (note: doubles as an air freshener).
Boil some water, and a few minutes later, I’ve got the perfect cup. A few hours later, I’m still going strong, without that nasty afternoon crash I’d come to expect as an inevitable trade off for caffeine escapism. Plus, one bag costs about as much as three trips to Starbucks, only lasts way longer (and without having to break out the pseudo-Italian).
The best part of switching to North Star Fine Coffees? I no longer spend time pursuing the perfect coffee, have been saving a lot of money for my gourmet fixes, and no longer experience any withdrawal after going on a binge. That means I’m no longer an addict. I’m a connoisseur, thank you very much!
Testimonial from Joi Sigers
Hello!
There are few things I love as much as an amazing cup of coffee. Ironically, we recently ran out of our North Star coffee, so I had to go back to the brands I normally get. Brands that, prior to North Star, I thought were “fine, premium” coffees (Millstone and Starbucks). After North Star, they honestly taste bland! Oddly enough, it was the Starbucks that failed the most miserably. They’re supposed to know what they’re doing!
I’ve used Millstone forever, and have always been happy with it – especially the Foglifter and Kona beans. Even THEY paled by comparison. Our oldest daughter, Emily, is already as big a coffee addict as I am and she even remarked that they didn’t smell as “bold” as North Star.
Michael spoke to you earlier and said that there’ll be more North Star in the mail. YAY! I can’t wait to tell Emily, she’ll flip her caffeinated lid. I’ll put up another post really soon** – I want everyone to taste what coffee is meant to taste like!
Thanks ever so much!
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**You can read Joi’s first post here -> www.buttermilkpress.com/blog/truly-truly-amazing-coffee
by Matt Charney
My dad drank about a pot and a half of pure black sludge every morning over the Wall Street Journal, and, in his mind, his coffee was the only viable coffee in the world. Seriously. Everywhere else we went, he’d complain they “didn’t brew it strong enough,” or “watered down,” wincing each time the latter verdict was rendered. This was as much emotion as he’d normally show; he’s a CPA specializing in tax code, which also explains his dependency on condensed caffeine.
He had the right to feel a little haughty, I guess. Rather than have a Mr. Coffee like all the rest of my friend’s parents, he had a stainless steel Italian contraption that took up half our countertop. It had unnecessary features, like a giant milk frother (Dad only took black), and a thermometer. Not for the coffee. For outside. While presuming this to be valuable information to someone ostensibly just waking up, who turns to their coffee maker for the weather? Although it was more coherent than Willard Scott.
Next to it, occupying the other half of the counter, was a selection of scoops, filters, bags of various whole beans, a grinder and, oh yeah, a French press and an espresso machine. At the time, before there was an outbreak of cookie cutter coffee joints choking the exurbs, this was pretty weird. Taster’s Choice was as fancy as most people got.
Naturally, I inherited the love of a good, strong cuppa. The difference being, I drank the stuff without discretion. I was the guy you see at places like Jiffy Lube downing Styrofoam cup after Styrofoam cup.
Dad did not approve, particularly the heretical act of adding sweetener. It was like I just told him I was moving in to kick heroin each time I’d open a Sweet and Low. But how else was I going to choke down my favorite retail freebie?
In high school, I drank coffee because it made me feel grown up; I progressed from Capri Suns to cappuccinos with shocking quickness. Men drank coffee (or beer, but the latter was decidedly more difficult and dangerous for a high schooler to obtain). Plus, it had a nice kick that made first period tolerable.
In college, I drank coffee because beer suddenly became decidedly less difficult and dangerous to obtain. And, there was a coffee cart located directly between my fraternity house and campus. Guy made a killing. Also, my school employed “The Socratic Method,” academic doublespeak for “fall asleep at the risk of social stigma.”
Now, in adulthood, I’ve become my father’s son. But, he’s a boomer, and took pride in doing it himself. I, on the other hand, preferred drive-through Starbucks. I became, for a brief stint, one of those d-bags you get behind in line who spoke coffee shop Italian in orders so long they might as well have been arias.
That walk down memory lane is important, because I want you to know where I’m coming from. I’m no connoisseur, but coffee’s become inexorably intertwined with my daily routine. I enjoy drinking it, and drink a lot of it. It’s in my blood (which might explain why I feel so alert and cheerful!)
Scientists have proven a correlation between memory and smell, and just the aroma of a freshly brewed pot makes people happy. That’s why you inevitably take a deep waft the first time you bring a cup to your lips. You go back somewhere; to a late night with old friends, to mornings at camp, to church socials. To a parent. To somewhere.
That’s something North Star Fine Coffees understands…
(come back tomorrow for the conclusion)
