Sunday, July 16, 2017

Why Drink Decaf?

What, you may ask, is the point of denuded, decaffeinated coffee? Well, there isn't one. If you don't mind the prospect of a future of addiction, shot nerves, insomnia, high blood pressure and headaches. Ever wondered why some European nations are so excitable? It's the ritual of the early morning espresso, so thick that it may be possible to stand a spoon in it, and so strong that it has to be washed down with a glass of water by the unaccustomed and unwary. OK, I exaggerate. But I do have difficult-to-control high blood pressure; and caffeine doesn't do anything to abate my insomnia. So I have been drinking  decaf for a long time - possibly longer than you have been alive.
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Frankly, most of the instant stuff is awful. So I bought a cafetiere some years ago and have endured sludge at the bottom of my coffee cup ever since. My justification for this less than satisfactory state of affairs was that the grounds were helpful to the garden. Wrong. Recent research leads me to the conclusion that coffee grounds are what did for the potted bay conveniently situated outside my kitchen door. Enough is enough. To cut to the chase - I ordered a bean grinder to enable me to produce a more suitable grind.  Oh, yes. And at a vastly reduced price from my favourite, not-to-be mentioned departmental store. The purchase naturally necessitated a search for decaffeinated coffee beans. Who would have imagined it could be so complicated!  Turns out that some decaffeinating processes will not help in the quest for good health. We have to source coffee beans that have been washed, using the Swiss Water Method, or the Mexican Water Method. Oh, my days! It turned out that choices were limited in this small backwater. In fact, after extensive googling, I found only one local supermarket that stocked Peruvian Coffee Beans Decaffeinated by the Swiss Water Method. I was down there as quick as Jack Flash and I've been grinding away ever since they hit the kitchen counter.

Serendipity landed on my shoulders late in the day after, with the aid of Google, I had wasted several hours immersing myself in the study of coffee production. It turns out that there is a Whittard store a few steps away from my hairdresser. So after travelling twenty miles for the next chop at the Sassoon hangout I can stagger home with bags of coffee beans. If I can wait that long. I drank so much coffee yesterday that the store of beans is alarmingly low. I may have spend my Sunday afternoon making a forty mile round trip to buy more. Life can be such a grind.



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