When only the worst will do

I’ve been a confessed coffee snob for years, seeking out the best coffee shops near my work, ordering luxe brands to be delivered to my house, and investing in a high-quality espresso machine and grinder setup for my home. Despite this, I still have a soft spot in my heart for instant coffee. I don’t mean the new offerings that have increased in quality over the last several years, either – I’m talking about the coarse granules sold in jars at discount shops.

It started with the Dalgona coffee trend, but as I discovered later, the roots of my fondness for instant coffee go back much farther. Since there was little else to do during the early days of the pandemic, I hopped on the Dalgona bandwagon and surprisingly, I really liked it. This resulted in stocking up on several jars of inexpensive instant coffee (again, pandemic-related: if you find it, buy several in case it disappears from the shelves). However, I didn’t want to make the sugary treat too often, because I have another sweet hobby (baking) and even I have a limit on sugar. So I started doing the unthinkable: drinking the instant coffee black.

That’s when I realized why I liked Dalgona coffee so much. It wasn’t because of the sugar or foamy texture, it’s because the coffee reminded me of the days I spent on my grandparents’ farm when I was a little girl. My grandparents arose before dawn to milk the small herd of cows they kept. Every morning before they walked down to the barn, they would each drink a cup of instant coffee, pouring some of the scalding liquid into the saucer before drinking it. I’ve been told that drinking from the saucer is an old German tradition dating back to the 18th century, but regardless of its origins, the memory of my grandfather sipping coffee out of the saucer is an indelible impression. I would barely be awake, sitting on my grandfather’s lap, smelling the coffee as he drank it, listening to the farm start to awaken as dawn was breaking.

I’m sure my grandparents drank the instant coffee not because they particularly enjoyed it, but because it saved time. They would make a regular pot of coffee after the milking and other early chores were done, but the first cup was always instant. The aroma reminds me of those idyllic days (well, idyllic for me because I didn’t have to do the hard work of farming). On mornings when my cushy office job is getting a bit hectic or stressful, I will flip on the electric kettle that lives near my desk and make a cup of instant coffee. I feel instantly more relaxed when I pour the hot water over the coarse brown pebbles in my coffee mug. It doesn’t taste great, but sometimes only the worst will do.