On the heels of our recent film-inspired douche test (Remember? Synecdoche, NY? I rest.), I delve into further minutiae of pretentiousness. Today: one of the more obvious signs of a douchebag – the Keurig coffee pot.
For those unfamiliar with the Keurig drip-pod or K-Cup or whatever system; it’s the sleek, chic, super-expensive coffee pot that brews one tiny cup at a time. Instead of sifting through beans or grounds, you just drop in this pod, and the machine loudly unfurls nearly a tablespoon of tepid coffee.
I won’t confess to being a coffee snob, but I do like my sludge, and the stronger the better. I drink at least a travel mug every morning. Coffee fuels me, before I enter the soul-crushing world of corporate America. Yep. I’m like you.
But the Keurig thumbs its nose at that nonsense. With the Keurig, you can safely turn your nose up at breakroom or lunchroom coffee. Whereas us serfs will not eschew a cup from the cafeteria machine, even with stray grounds in the bottom, you can safely pass. Bully for you!
Now, again, I’m not a snob. Maybe I’m a purist? I don’t drink lattes or frappucinos or any of the stuff that makes you demonstrably fatter or poorer. I require only that my coffee be black as night – with a tangible bite, taste, and kick – and that it flows like the Nile. My coffee need be plentiful. With the Keurig, I get none of that.
How would I know? Well, I’ve got one. Yes, I do. But not only is your cup of Joe tiny and unfulfilling, once you’re a Keurig owner, you have the luxury of shopping for boxes of these K-Cup pod-thingys, made from the dregs of various coffee conglomerates’ beans or grounds. Green Mountain, Caribou, Tully’s, you name it – they all eagerly charge you thirty bucks for twenty thimbles of coffee, with a watery cup weaker than your standard Maxwell House scoop.
That’s right, Keurigs make weak coffee, and they don’t make enough coffee. Two settings exist on my model – puny and punier. Apparently I’m supposed to decide whether I want an espresso or a swallow. Which, I suppose, is fine in some instances – but it’s not fine when you can’t regulate the coffee amount. You drop in a pod, and you’re at the pod’s mercy. The pod controls the strength. Your role, as a coffee purist or gourmand, is finished!
But John, you say. You can buy one of those Keurig attachments that convert grounds into K-Cups! And that is true. For twenty dollars (NOTE: You can buy a full-fledged Hamilton Beach coffee maker for twenty dollars) I can have my Keurig converter. And, again, I do. I won’t bore you with the gory details – but just try and use one of these things. When your entire kitchen is covered in the converter’s wreckage, thousands of stray, messy coffee grounds, and you’ve got a sludge-filled half a cup, you’ll nod along with me.
So that’s the Keurig. If you like your coffee like a scalding cup of Aquafina FlavorSplash, I implore you – shell out your 200 bucks for the Keurig. Basically, it’s coffee drinking for those who want to convey an impression of coffee drinking, rather than your serious caffeine addict. Enjoy.
This coffee maker is great. I use it at least 3-4 times a day and it always seems to make a very good cup of coffee.
I disagree with the article, as I do not like my coffee too strong so I have no problem with this machine.
Hahahaha. Excellent. But more to the point. I already have a coffee maker that makes twelve cups…. or one. And any of the coffee makers on the market can make as good a cup and ANY other machine. It’s only through user error that we get bad coffee. What’s really funny is there are several models at various (outrageous) prices but they all only make one cup at a time. I guess nobody has company anymore or do we just tell them to make their own?