This morning while rummaging through the refrigerator looking for some drink to drink, I saw the only ice coffee left was the non-black variety–only sweet coffee.
I haven’t had sweet coffee in years so I thought I’d give it a try. It’s ok, but I wouldn’t intentionally drink it if given a choice. Once you add milk or sugar, it can no longer be classified as Coffeeius Oishiius, but as Coffeeius Mazuius. Maybe it is just me though.
I remember following my father around as a small child. Wherever he went he would invariably drink coffee and the coffee he drank was black. I did the same thing, often passing up perfectly good Hot Coco. My grandmother, conversely, drank the light-brown coffee type, but dad’s was always black.
There seemed to be two diametrically opposing factions; I had to choose sides.
I of course choose the Black group–ブラック団
This could be because my grandmother rarely drank coffee but my father had it every day. I suppose my impressionable mind fell victim to repeated familiarity: (Dad) Black, Black, Black, Black (Grandmother) Light-Brown (Dad again) Black, Black, Black, Black [pattern repeats]
I finished my ‘coffee’ just now but the sweet candy taste lingers. I will need to brew some hot coffee to get rid of the aftertaste; It will of course be Black.