I try to find a local coffee house when I travel. However, there are times (I'm ashamed to admit) when I will pop into a starbucks and grab a substitute.
The flat white at Starbucks approximates a cortado, with way too much milk. But, in a pinch, it'll do.
I had one yesterday. I was stuck in a god-forgotten town in central Texas and was about to walk into a jail to visit a client. I needed a coffee. I wanted a cortado. What I settled for was a flat white.
The day before, I found a perfectly crafted cortado in a little college-town-coffee-house. It was served by a barista with a ring in her nose and a shade of purple in her hair that defied understanding, but still worked.
God has not forgotten this town. I met a young missionary out front. He was smoking a cigarette and telling me about his sailing ministry he's starting. Sweet kid. Misguided and young - which seem to go hand in hand a lot - but a sweet kid, nonetheless.
Today, I've been in the car for a while. I finished my flat white about half way through the four hour drive.
I'm staying in a tiny-house on an eight hundred acre ranch for the next few nights. There's not a coffee house within 30 miles, not even a starbucks. I'll brew a pot of drip coffee in the morning. It'll be some kind of pecan flavored coffee. It'll be fine. I'll make it into town to enjoy a cortado at some point.
Few things bring me as much joy as a perfectly crafted cortado in the morning. But waking up on a private preserve seems to ease the pain of drinking pecan flavored drip coffee.
We just sent you an email. Please click the link in the email to confirm your subscription!
OKSubscriptions powered by Strikingly