In moving to California almost a year ago, I was unpleasantly suprised at the quality and preperation of coffee in the office. Flavia, senseo-like packet-driven single serve machines are ubiquitous and create silty coffee-like facilimies which are coffee as much as mcdonalds is food. As a result I’ve turned to Starbucks to fulfill my coffee requirements and certainly expected to find them, or an equivelant in France
I can now say, with some certaintity, they don’t serve coffee here. My French teacher lied to me; une cafe means espresso and if you order a grande cafe from McD’s you get a Dixie cup double shot. Everything is espresso here (avec beacoup du sucre et laut). Even the rather ordinary coffee maker at Le Maison is wire filter that requires paper filters as the super market only sells espresso ground. In a way, the shoe is on the other foot and I find myself craving a little watered down American strength coffee. At a gas station I was hopeful. Surely the home base of weary traveller would have a hot pot on; Non! Instead I was shocked to find no less than 4 flavia style vending machines, the same size and shape as cola vending machines. They created a far better brew than our office flavia but still, only small cup brews. Where or where was my mega-gulp 64oz coffee goblet? Perhaps, while I doth protest too much about my native land, there is still an American heart at my core. I truely enjoy the magnificant culinary wonders this country presents me, wines more extraordinary and cheeses more exquisite than I’ve tasted before, a part of me misses my mediocre mass market staples. I will continue to order une cafes here but I’ll be holding my starbucks gold card when we touch tarmack in heathrow on my return.
