I Had A Dream There Were Clouds In My Coffee

A ritual that adds a little slice of heaven to my day is about to come to an end. Forever.

Melodramatic enough for you? (If not, stick around. This is my blog, after all. You won't have to wait long.)

Still, that opening statement is hideously true. Pull up a chair, pour yourself something drinkable, and listen a spell.

Here's the sitch: I am not a coffee drinker. At least, not a respectable coffee drinker. I'm like the people who have to scarf their Hostess Sno Balls in the car because they don't want anyone to know they hugely prefer them to creme brulee or tiramisu. (Not me, of course. Moving on.) I do start each day with coffee. Yet the Krups coffee maker I received as a wedding gift is gathering dust. I find Starbucks totally resistible. I don't frequent 7-11 (unless I need Sno Balls. But why would I need Sno Balls? Seriously, Readers.)

So where is this going, you ask? Here's my confession:

I LOVE GENERAL FOODS INTERNATIONAL COFFEE FRENCH VANILLA.

I had to put that in bold caps because that's how prominent the stuff is in my life. I mean, I LERVE it. Sometimes, as I lift the cup to my lips and inhale, I close my eyes and smile like those ladies in the 1970s Folgers commercials. Only, ICK on the Folgers. I can tolerate actual brewed coffee...if I drown it in milk (no sugar for me, oddly.) But like Bartleby, "I prefer not to."

What I want is four teaspoons of smooth beige powder that dissolve instantly when the boiling water hits the inside of the mug with a decided splash. I want the stuff that looks like a sun-kissed sand dune, smells like the glaze on cinnamon buns, and tastes like hot ice cream. I WANT I WANT I WANT.

And I may have to go on wanting, craving, YEARNING, unless you, Dear Readers, can think of a way to help me. Don't be a hater now. There's a bony finger pointing the way out of paradise, and I don't want to go.

Not long ago, I noticed that my beloved beverage had a fancy new label. It does sometimes. Upon closer inspection, though, the new label contained a couple of alarming details. First, the words "Maxwell House." Isn't that actual coffee?

Then, the ominous phrase "New Great Taste!" Oh, no. That is not a phrase a fan wants to see. "New" and "Great" side by side are generally an oxymoron. Imagine how serious Coke drinkers felt when they first saw the ads for New Coke. Then I opened the new tin. The powder was...darker. Chunkier? I made a cup. The taste: some sort of monstrous hybrid of real coffee and my beloved vanilla. Sort of metallic. Sort of aspartame-y, even though it doesn't contain aspartame.

THIS. IS. NOT. GOOD. I started Googling to find the revolt that must be brewing. I typed "International Coffees French Vanilla New Disgusting Flavor" and "Instant Coffee Revamp Causes Massive Uprising" and "Life Suddenly Without Meaning." The internet was heartbreakingly silent. The closest thing to community outrage I could find was the comment section of Amazon, where a scant couple of posters said the "sickly sweet and bitter at the same time" taste of the new French Vanilla meant they would no longer buy it.

Clearly, these people aren't in as deep as I am. I don't have that choice, Readers. I've been trembling in supermarket aisles, feverishly perusing the shelves, caving in desperation, piling the tins into my shopping cart, knowing it will taste like poison, needing it anyway.

Not long ago, I discovered a few precious tins of the original formula at my local CVS pharmacy. I bought them, rejoicing, but they are almost gone. Each day, I'm edging inexorably closer to a future with no sweet vanilla happiness in it.

And that's why I need you. You are clearly smart, resourceful people. You read my blog, after all. I need you to focus your sharp, eagle eyes and your multivalent faculties on finding me an untapped stash of Original Recipe. There may be a reward if you do; at the very least you'll have my caffeinated gratitude.

And if you can think of a way to convince General Foods/Maxwell House to stop this life-wrecking folly sooner rather than later, that would be a plus. Because it has to end, right? It just has to.

These are dark times, Readers. Let's restore the (creamy) light.