Ooh, goodie. Starbucks fucked up. And now I get to write about it. Coffee and blogging are both trendy, right? Here I come along to daringly fuse the two. I’m calling this particular roast Blend Over.
Long story short, on the top of my blog somewhere it says, “Product Reviews.” On that page you’ll find this nugget of wisdom:
Send me your shit. And I’ll tell the world how it sucks. For free. I promise to be honest and fair and completely impartial.
–Tom B. Taker
Completely impartial. Right. That’s because we all know I can’t be bought.
The other day I opened my mailbox and what did I find? A free bag of something called Starbucks Blonde. To get really excited, I’d hope that was at least the name of a porn star, but sadly it was merely yet another flavor of coffee. Yeah, the world needs 4,242 flavors of call, each with its own distinct flavor and character. Yeah, right.
And now for my review.
Somehow I went most of my life without coffee. It was grueling and I don’t know how I survived. Then, in part due to my latest job, I started sucking it up like there was no tomorrow. Now I’m addicted and never spend the chance to drop $5 on a small beverage. If I try to quit I get headaches. Starbucks, somehow, knows this, so they wisely sent me some Starbucks Blonde Veranda Blend (TM/MC) ground coffee which they describe as “Mellow & Soft.” That’s hardly descriptive of something I’d ever want to put in my mouth.
The package proclaims that this coffee flavor is the result of “[f]orty years of coffee-roating expertise…” Eh, what? Bullshit! I don’t recall seeing too many Starbucks around in the early 70’s. (Wikipedia offers this illumination: A single store called “Starbucks” operated in Seattle’s Pike Place back in 1971. Apparently they were already hard at work perfecting the Blond Veranda blend.)
By the way, I’m curious. What is a veranda supposed to taste like, anyway? Something tells me I’m not qualified to write this review. If forced, I’d guess that “veranda” must taste like ass, right? (Because a veranda is where people sit. Duh.)
The package goes on to say that the blend is “a lighter, gentler take on the Starbucks Roast.” To add to the hype, everything on the package is written in Francais in addition to English. That makes it seem so much more trendy and dashingly European. To test this myself, I ignored the instructions “How to Brew” and instead used the section entitled “Methode d’infusion.” And you know what? After only one cup I was more than ready to look down my nose at American swine. Think I’m kidding? Non!
Verdict: The shit made coffee. It tasted just like any other coffee I’ve ever had. Of course, I’ve never had the ability to tell one flavor of coffee from another, which makes their decision to send me a free sample questionable, in my humble opinion. The stuff was quaffable after I loaded it down with vanilla syrup and heavy cream. I’d give the coffee bonus points if the beans had, at some point, been pooped out of the ass of a furry rodent. That apparently isn’t the case here, or else they’d proudly proclaim it and use the internationally accepted coffee anus seal of approval on the label.
My recommendation: Shrug. If you want to see Starbucks get even bigger, then buy this shit by the truckload and store it in your coffee cellar. Or go the other route and support your local “roasters.” What do I care?
Addendum: Clever manufacturers will see the benefit of product placement on my blog. Click the “Product Reviews” link at the top of this page to learn how to cash in by having me talk about your shit.