Of Coffee and Stuff

Here I go, attacking another American institution. This post from Andrew Sullivan got me thinking: just actually what does it take in terms of Americanism to patronize a coffee bar that serves really bad coffee, gussied up with syrups and flavorings, along with mediocre pastries, served by "baristas" (and where did that word come from? the same place as "tall," "grande," and "vente" instead of "small," "mediium," and "large," I suppose) who are programmed for marketing, marketing, marketing, in an environment that we used to call "plastic" back in the seventies. (And don't forget the bad Eurorock.)

And when Chicago's new anti-smoking law went into effect on January 1, signs started appearing at Starbucks across Chicagoland proclaiming no smoking on the patio or within fifteen feet of it. (The law mandates no smoking within fifteen feet of the entrance of a public building.) Can you say "overreaching"? (I was going to file a complaint with the city, but apparently someone else got to them before I did -- the signs have since come down.) I don't even want to get into the irony of proclaiming a stretch of public sidewalk, usually within spitting distance of a major intersection, as a "no smoking" zone, particularly in the absence of any legal authority to do so. Please.

People decry the rise of the chain store in this country, but flock to a chain coffee shop.

Needless to say, I don't do Starbucks. If I'm going out to meet friends or just get out of the house for a while, the last surviving Coffee Chicago is just down the street, and a block farther on there's a small, independent coffee shop that comes highly recommended, although I never seem to make it that far. At the very least, the coffee is better. I also drink French-style cafe au lait at home in the morning, which I make with an inexpensive stainless steel stovetop espresso maker (no aluminum, please). (I can sympathize with the reader who likes having someone make the coffee, but I generally don't want to wait that long. Maybe I'll add that to the list of official duties for the next boyfriend.) I don't generally have pastry in the morning -- I don't eat until relatively late, and that's simply not enough food at that point. If I'm planning on pastry, I'll run over to the Swedish Bakery.

All of this either makes me a real, honest-to-Pete, red-blooded American, or the worst snob you've ever seen.