Thursday, June 21, 2012

Bitch session on the road

My old nemesis: Mr. Coffee.

Traveling this week, staying in three different hotels. Two in Iowa, one in Utah. A decent cup of tea will not be had, I know, even with the good stuff I brought along. But my how I try.

In every room, the proprietors have "conveniently" placed a Mr. Coffee. Cursed little things. They always reek of the black. So I scrub, and I wipe, and I rinse. My bancha still tastes like bean.

(They made a Mrs. Tea once, in the mid-’90s. Cute thing, with a real teapot under the drip. But really, drip is not the best way to steep your tea.)

Usually, it's the available water that ruins the experience. I grab a bottle when I can, but can't always. The third circle of hell is a cup of tea made with hotel tap. Mmmm, calci-riffic!

The fifth circle: The restaurant bag basket. The lukewarm water. That stainless-steel pitcher with the lid that never quite fits right and a volume somehow less than the corresponding cup. At least it's not one of those glass bulbs with the black plastic neck (the Hottle, shudder) ...

God, I'm spoiled. Despite all this kvetching, I'm having a wonderful trip ... ;-)

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