November 5, I believe. So says the sandwich board outside my local ‘Buck. And call me Santa, but nothing tastes as joyous or yuletide-ish as a peppermint hot chocolate from those seasonal red cups.
And although I mentioned it earlier, I really can’t shake this whole no drip coffee thing. It’s so strange. Fine, two days ago I was informed by a fellow Canuck that in fact, coffee shops do have drip coffee, but for all I know it’s simmering away, boiling down to tar in the back–waiting for someone to bumble their way through an awkward order without backing down and settling for one of the holy trinity (espresso, americano, latte).
The whole ‘eat in/take away’ balance of natural order is enough to make me sound insane. I haven’t spent enough time here to use my natural intuition when it comes to ordering, and I refuse to ask for guidance (my recently discovered stiff upper lip) so I’m stuck each morning at the counter saying, “Yes, a Skim Latte for here, in a take away cup. I’ll have a peach muffin to eat in–a bottle of water for take away and a butter croissant for take away.” God bless the overall embrace of eccentricity in this country–because I fear I’ve becoming the worst kind–the dreaded eccentric multinational consumer.*
Okay, back to drip coffee in O Canada. You can’t walk 1000 metres without tripping on the curb of a Timmies drive-thru. In fact, on that same walk you could probably find enough change on the ground to order a steaming paper cup of the 20-minute half-life delight. It’s always been there and I took it for granted. Just like I took for granted cream and Splenda. Argh!
Anyway, a coffee press is no use either. Being of British make, it brews wonderful tea, but trying to master the water/coffee ratio with a pale hope of replicating drip coffee will forever be a nice fantasy.
*I wanted to get this one off my chest before whatever happens/cough/economy/cough/tiptoe and then I’d just be another eccentric multinational consumer blogging about days of yore and Canadian coffee.