I think we’ve all been there: frantically reading this month’s new nonsensical concoctions off the ever-changing Starbucks boards while you slowly creep towards the poor soul shouting out orders faster than a sports commentator calls goals (I assume. I don’t actually know much about sports. My time is used in much more exciting ways like writing extensively about coffee.) until you eventually end up blurting out the same drink you always go for and scurrying away, glad the stress is over. But, what is that magical drink that will make you forget you have a physics test at 8:40 am on a Tuesday? Unfortunately, no matter what it is, get ready to be roasted (see what I did there? Roasted? Like coffee beans? No… no?? Ok…) to an extent you didn’t even know was possible about coffee because I, in typical Unpublished fashion, have alarmingly strong opinions on fairly mundane things.
Black coffee:
Firstly, we’re starting with the selection that separates the psychopaths, ‘pick-me’s and Emos from the rest of us. Any variation of this bitter, gritty fluid falls under this umbrella. I will hear no arguments on this. Even the coffee connoisseurs (yes, I did have to look up the spelling of that and yes, I initially spelt it so wrong dinosaurs came up) among us must agree on the character of those (dare I even call them people) who regularly spend money on the closest thing to edible gasoline you can find. Those of you who willingly ingest this beverage because you think it makes you look ‘cool’ or ‘edgy’ are simply deluding yourselves and subjecting your poor taste buds to this torment for no reason (yes, that’s my opinion. Yes, I treat it as a fact). Not once have I seen a twelve year old successfully look cool while drinking black coffee. With their half shut eyes and tightened jaws, desperately trying to look as though it doesn't affect them, they’re only looking crazier to their friends and to their bank account. So please, this school year, refrain from taking the words of Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’ to heart (a challenge, I know) and by all means, don’t take your coffee black. However, there are in fact a small minority of people who genuinely like the taste of this pseudo-petroleum and to you all I can say is I salute you, I admire you, but I will never be you.
Iced Latte:
Ahh, this is more like it. We’re going immediately from most psychotic to least psychotic choice. If you, like me, are far too eager to drink your 8am coffee the second the barista puts it down in front of you, chances are you’ve burnt your mouth enough times to realise hot coffee isn’t such a good idea for you. This ultimately results in succumbing to the beckonings of the humble iced coffee (of which lattes are obviously the superior choice; don’t bother disagreeing) much to the horror of passersby watching you sip your frosty beverage in 3 °C. But, while they may judge you for this, I do not (and isn’t that what really matters?) because if we’re truly being honest, losing circulation in your fingers from the cold is much better than burning the roof of your mouth… right…? Oh but come summertime, this is all anyone seems to drink. You year-round lovers are just ahead of the curve because while everyone else attempts to perfectly time their transition from piping hot to freezing cold coffee (really, there should be some sort of transitional drink… lukewarm coffee, anyone?), you only notice the changing of the seasons when your hands go from scarred in the winter to soothed in the summer. Of course, there are multitudes of variations of this staple drink (vanilla, matcha, mocha… the list goes on… each more confusing to older generations than the last) making this by far the most common, respected, secure option that most people approve of. So is it a bit boring? Yes, but does that make it any less good? No, keep doing what you’re doing.
Ultra-specific coffee (see: barista’s nightmare):
Oh no. Are you the youngest sibling by any chance? Or perhaps you’ve made it onto the side of TikTok where it’s socially acceptable for your request to not fit on the side of the cup? Regardless, I think we can all agree that despite how delicious this concoction may end up being, that fleeting moment of pleasure is not worth the anxiety caused to both the stressed barista, who still has another hour left of their already mammoth shift and wants nothing more than to make drinks that are actually on the menu instead of using all of their remaining brain capacity to try and satiate your ruthless desire for the ‘perfect drink’, and to you, who has to undertake the embarrassing task of reading your order off of a screenshot on your phone like it's some kind of deranged shopping list and feel the general annoyance of every passerby and worker in the establishment. And another thing, if I see you drinking a coffee, ask what you’re drinking, and you respond with something that contains the word ‘pumps’ I am unfortunately mentally checking out for the rest of the conversation. This is nothing personal; I just refuse to associate with those dwelling among us (truly, you’re everywhere. It’s petrifying.) who sincerely believe this is a reasonable coffee order.
Tea:
You. How could I ever forget about you? Well, to begin with, you make it impossible for anyone within a three mile radius (slight exaggeration but the point still stands) to not be aware of your disgust, and dare I say loathing, of coffee by announcing it very loudly when asked, so that the entire coffee shop is aware of your ‘superior’ (see: insufferable) way of life (because let’s be honest, it’s a lifestyle). But, why get anything at all in a coffee shop, you may ask? Unfortunately, I can only assume (as alas, I do not join your ranks) it’s due to the highly effective phenomenon of peer pressure as what else are you, a coffee hater, supposed to do when all your friends huddle themselves into the safety and warmth of a coffee shop while the rain outside pours and, not wanting to seem strange, you must order some type of beverage and so you land upon the trusty, quintessentially (shocking everyone, I spelt that correctly first try) British drink: tea. Yes, I admit, there are those of you who genuinely can not stand the taste of coffee (but does anyone truly like it?) to the point where, despite having two essays and a slideshow (Y7 food tech trauma resurfacing) due before third period, you opt to not consume this overpriced, liquid pot of energy. Respect to you. You’re definitely a much stronger group of people than I am because: functioning naturally before 1pm? Is that a myth? Clearly not since you do it every day. I’m impressed.
Water with whipped cream:
Unfortunately, this was such a strange suggestion that was so profoundly disturbing to me (endless pondering, nightmares, the works) I felt a duty to myself and to our readers to include it. Now, I sincerely hope the friend of mine who deemed it acceptable to occupy my thoughts so monumentally by saying this was joking (honestly, you can never be sure) because if not… what? Trying to wrap my head around this has caused me migraines. I have so many questions. For instance, the texture? I assume the whipped cream floats at first but eventually it must sink or dissolve into the water so once that happens are there just bits of cream floating around in a murky pool of water? Does it curdle? Legitimately making myself feel nauseous just by thinking about it. And also, what does the barista (there seems to be a recurring theme of baristas being generally underpaid for what they have to deal with. #justiceforbaristas) think of this? I’m sure they happily oblige but I am equally certain that they go to bed every night after thinking about this so-called ‘beverage’. I’m afraid I can say no more about this monstrosity, only that I am in equal parts horrified and anxious to try it myself. Please spare your barista’s sanity and never order this again.
And thus, my rant on coffee has come to a close. I hope you have enjoyed reading and felt completely offended in equal measure. If this has given you a strong craving for coffee, then I approve but don’t apologise. Go get some coffee but if you can’t do that, I suppose you (like me) will have to settle for listening to Sabrina Carpenter’s ‘Espresso’ on a loop.
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