Based off my not-so empirical evidence and unofficial focus groups of coffee drinkers, there seems to be a pattern worth mentioning—the coffee gets darker the longer you drink coffee.
As I may have mentioned, my coffee journey started at a Speedway during lunch. The weather was much like today—cold, wet, and snow was everywhere. Still, it was exam week (sophomore year of high school maybe?) so we had two hours to kill in between finals and an open lunch. My friend, who is so bold that she will later shave her head, suggests a stop at the local speedway to get some coffee. Her boyfriend is in disgust because he swears coffee is gross (even he had an evolution into coffee in college however). Nonetheless, I happily agreed to go get coffee—perhaps my eagerness at that moment stemmed from my eagerness to be friends with this girl but I will forever say the coffee gods were calling me home. So, we trekked to the Speedway down the road and what I got is something that I now would be hesitant to call coffee…. that’s right, I got a French Vanilla “Cappuccino” from that machine that has different flavors and hot chocolate. I mean it works for some and 16-year-old Tiler LOVED it.
After that adventure, I would ask my boyfriend at the time to buy me those things every weekend. But as I began college and visited more coffee shops with friends and partners, my taste buds changed. Not significantly but steadily. I drank lattes and mochas mostly. I can tell you what my favorite kind of mocha from a particular coffee shop (my absolute favorite is a Toasted White Chocolate from Starbucks shamefully). Sometimes I day dream still about Brewtopia’s French Kiss Latte now that they’ve shut down and I moved a state away. But not long before I started this blog, I started to put less sugar in my coffee at home. I stopped putting milk and cream in it for lactose reasons and admittedly, at some point for weight loss reasons. Eventually I was just drinking black coffee at home and cappuccinos when I went to get coffee because I didn’t want to pay for black coffee when that’s what I could have at home.
Now, we’re here, not quite a decade after that trek through the snow to get coffee at the local speedway, in a coffeeshop drinking a cup of hot, black coffee because it’s just what I’d prefer after trekking in the snow. I wouldn’t call it growth. Just an evolution. And while I have coworkers that cringe and drop their jaws in awe when I ask for nothing in my coffee, I also have coworkers who have been through a similar evolution as I have. At some point you stop putting cream in your coffee. This isn’t to say we all end our caffeinated adventures drinking or preferring black coffee—after all, my mother in-law just got back into adding cream and sugar to her coffee.
It’s to say, your taste for coffee changes over time and it doesn’t matter who you are. It just evolves.