Sunday, October 4, 2009

So I’m in my local Starbucks (more accurately, the Starbucks that is geographically closest to me, as about 137 would qualify as “local”), a line to the door and intricate orders being proudly shouted-out (i.e., quad split-shot Grande in a Venti cup, one pump mocha, one pump sugar-free vanilla, non fat, with whip and mocha drizzle) when I learn that our seemingly unfettered access to Starbucks coffee anywhere at any time has apparently been an illusion. Hence, the introduction of VIA “ready brew.” Or, for those of us who can fondly remember the serialized “Taster’s Choice” commercials of yore, “instant” coffee. That’s right, my friends. The company that has singlehandedly made us unflinchingly shell out upwards of four bucks for a painstakingly freshly-brewed “premium” cup of coffee prepared by a “barista,” has introduced its antithesis: the addition of a coffee-derived powder to hot water and prepared by, well, you.

And where would we be so bereft of access to Starbucks coffee, or one of its imitators, that we would welcome a packet of VIA? This was a question posed to the gentleman conducting the in-store taste tests of VIA as compared to traditionally brewed Starbucks coffee. He cheerfully answered, “when you’re on an airplane.” Not the best answer, as a customer pointed out, since one major airline already serves Starbucks as part of its meager nod to in-flight passenger “service.” And I challenge you to name an airport without a Starbucks or its ilk.

But while waiting for my comparatively pedestrian order of a Grande vanilla latte, I thought of the perfect place for VIA, where it could be enjoyed by those without access to freshly brewed coffee (or “fresh” anything, for that matter): outer space. What coffee-loving astronaut stuck in orbit wouldn’t welcome it? Just think: VIA could do for coffee what Tang has done for orange juice. Now that’s progress.

1 comments:

Anonymous said...

As one who recognizes none of a coffee-drinker's lexicon, I appreciated the nice turns of phrases along with the nostalic tribute to those innocent ads of yesteryear.


About this blog

This blog's title comes from Ariel's Song in Shakespeare's The Tempest.

Full fathom five they father lies,
Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearsl that were his eyes;
Nothing of him doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
into something rich and strange.

Powered by Blogger.

Amazon