Instant Coffee: A Review I can't feel my pancreas

Ahhhh, the first sip is like battery acid, but the good kind of battery acid. The kind of battery acid where you walk into the garage, take the little caps off the knob things on the top of the battery to expose the liquid inside, grab the battery in both hands, tilt your head back, and…

The good kind of battery acid.

I’m talking about instant coffee, of course. I’ve just made myself a cup, though this is one of my last since I’ve resolved the following: After this jar of instant coffee and one more americano from each of my favorite cafes in Lima, I will no longer buy coffee. I’ll still drink it if someone offers, but I’ll no longer buy it. Because my adrenal glands are shot. I woke up this morning and stared at the wall for 15 minutes. I’d still be staring at the wall, trying to think of ideas for a blog post, if I hadn’t started drinking instant coffee. So praise instant coffee. Am I really going to give it up?

Shit, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’m all talk.

I just took another sip and before taking the sip I looked down into the instant coffee. It was black. It was like looking into a barrel of crude oil. Instant coffee is all the rage in Chile, where I don’t think people realize anything else exists. And it’s not that instant coffee is bad. OK, compared to regular coffee it’s terrible, but you can’t compare it to regular coffee. It would be like comparing wine to tequila. Neither of them are bad, they’re just different.

My particular brand of instant coffee is called Altomayo and I bought the “gourmet” kind, which Cristina, the Venezuelan woman also staying at my Airbnb, commented on.

“That stuff’s supposed to be better,” she said. “Is it?”

“No,” I said, “At least I can’t tell a difference.”

Now I’m nearing the end of the instant coffee, which means the usual question arises: Should I have another cup? I’m inclined to say no. I’m inclined to publish this post, get ready to go out, and then walk to Puku Puku where I’ll spend several hours sipping an americano and reading The New Yorker. But at the same time, when you add a couple teaspoons of sugar, it’s pretty damn good. Maybe I should have another cup. Maybe I….

 

 

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