Rating Coffee

 

 

Hayter’s article for January

Brewing up coffee statistics 

I am not a connoisseur of coffee, nor do I play one on TV, but I know what I like. I don’t know what you like, nor do I care to know. Perhaps I could sample what you’re drinking and possibly even like it. But it’s just not worth the effort for either of us. 

Half of all urologists can tell you what coffee brand you drink. Having made that up, I don’t particularly care about urologists knowing me that intimately. I have changed coffee brands many times. My first sip of coffee was Maxwell House Instant. I was about 12-years-old and really hated the stuff. I only tried because I wanted to be like my dad. 

It was during my first summer job that I had a cup of actual brewed coffee. It was at “Benjamin Foster’s Pipe Insulation and Coatings” factory where the foreman brewed real coffee every morning. The group of us would sit around on five-gallon buckets until the foreman said, “Okay, let’s get to work.” I wanted the foreman to think I was as manly as the others, so I took to drinking coffee. I liked it right off. Meanwhile, Dad was still drinking Maxwell House Instant! 

Let’s skip ahead to the time the Keurig brewer came out. It was at this point that I came up with my coffee rating system. It’s complicated, so stick with me here. I rate my coffee “Good”, “Okay”, or “Bad”. I prefer “good” but can handle “okay.” One sip of “bad” is all I can take. 

My first “good” rating went out to Dunkin Donuts, partly because I liked the word donuts. The number of spent plastic Duncan Donut Keurig pods that I threw in the garbage could’ve filled two-thirds of a garbage truck. Last year, Duncan coffee started tasting less good to me. It nosed into the “Okay” category. I don’t know if it was me or the coffee. I go through different phases. Not as many as women, but I’ve got phases all right. 

From Duncan, I went to “Angelino’s”. They have a good flavored medium and a good bold. They also have a wide variety of flavors. After my first sample box, I discovered that I do not like flavored coffee. Only 32 percent of all male coffee drinkers can tolerate flavored coffees, while 78 % of all women not only enjoy flavored coffee, they PREFER it! All of these statistics are as real as I can make them. The Hayter brothers were at my house yesterday, and I managed to get Larry to take my entire box of “Crème Brulee” Keurig cups off my hands. Get this. He called today and thanked me for giving him the coffee. I was surprised to hear that until he told me he hadn’t tried it yet!

I was coaxed away from Angelino’s by a popup ad for “Tayst”. Tayst’s coffee pods do not encase their coffee in plastic. The coffee pods have a paper top affixed to a small, bowl-shaped coffee-filled filter. The spent pod is completely “compostable”… not that I’m going to start a compost. If I do that, I’ll have to start a garden. I am so past my gardening phase of life.

As concerned as I am about the environment, I still wouldn’t purchase Tayst if I didn’t like their coffee. The coffee rates a “Good”. I like their medium and bold. They call their medium “Medium & HEROIC”. The heroic flavor escapes my taste-buds, but the Medium part is Good. The bold is called “Bold and Brilliant.” I do not know the flavor of “brilliant”, but, I do know “Good”, and it is that. Yes, I do understand that coffee companies have so many different types of medium and bold coffees, that they must make up names for them. For example, “Medium Li'l Skippy” wouldn’t work nearly as well as “Medium HEROIC”. After a cup of that stuff, you can’t help but feel brave. – What? Right. That just doesn’t sound right. Some may consider Bold and Brilliant not to be bitter enough for them. Coffee has got some bitterness to it. You would have to brew it in cold water to get the bitterness out.  I don’t like cold coffee. Eighty percent of all female coffee drinkers do, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone. 

For me, Tayst has nailed their Bold flavor. They have another “Bold” they call “Brazen”. My thesaurus says that brazen means that the coffee is shameless and smart-alecky. Another taste of which I’m unfamiliar.

          By the way, please know that my favorable rating of Tayst coffees has nothing to do with the great-looking coffee mug they sent with the coffee samples I purchased. The mug looks great. It’s good for soups, beans, oatmeal, and the like. But, it’s not good for coffee, because it’s too wide and short to hold the heat. 

I’m a slow drinker of coffee. I sip. My daddy was a sipper and my grandpa was a… well, I don’t remember what Grandpa Ed was. Kay doesn’t drink her coffee fast or slow. She just doesn’t drink it at all. She’s one of the 53 percent of all women who don’t drink coffee. I rate that as “Good”.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

Country Western song writers

 

Hayter article for January 23, 2022

“A family of country western songwriters.” 

          This evening, immediately after supper, I was sitting in my favorite chair staring at the wall across the room. A lot of thoughts can surface while staring at nothing. Kay was reading a novel while in her comfy chair when I remarked, “I didn’t think about Mom or Dad today, and I’m not sure I did yesterday.”

          Kay must not have been enjoying her book, because she responded. “I’ll go days without thinking of my folks.” Her response caused me to feel better about myself. I said, “Good grief, we don’t even have kids. When we’re gone nobody will think of us.” Kay replied, “Sweety, I hate to tell you this, but nobody’s thinking about us right now.” – Obviously, you are thinking about us at this very moment, and I appreciate that.

          Anyway, after Kay’s remark, my mind captured the thought of all the copies I saved from “Our Family Newsletter” written and published by my kid sister, Jill. That girl saved a bunch of history for our family. I’ve got the 1990 folder right here. This stuff is 32 years old. I’ve looked at the January through March newsletters, but, oddly enough, the first thing I saw was a letter that Al wrote Jill back on December 6, 1983. I had forgotten that Jill saved all her letters throughout the years and included one in each newsletter.

There are two spooky things about this particular letter she got from youngest, Big Al.  For one thing, Big Al rarely writes letters. And, his phone texts usually contain no more than three words. The second oddity is that the first article I looked at was one about Al letting Jill know something he remembered about the both of them. Al’s letter reads:

“Jill, You know when we were little stupid kids. I mean when you were a little stupid kid and I was just a little kid? We never dreamed that all those bad moments, days, weeks, and months that we had together would ever be good times. Back then they were only bad times. 

      “But now they’re good times forever. Because now we have those good times to look back on and say we were together a long time. We were brother and sister. We have those old memories and pleasant thoughts forever.  Love ya.  Big Al.”  

          I doubt Al remembers writing the letter, but I’m sure he remembers how important Jill was to him when they were kids. Sure, it would’ve been better had Al written to me, but it still shows how some events need time to age, before they can be seen in a better light.

          While I remember events in some of Jill’s newsletter stories, the details were lost. I recall Cheryl running several long-distance races, but I didn’t remember the Tenneco Marathon of 1990. Jill wrote that Cheryl's time was 3 hours 45 minutes 17 seconds”. That’s 23 continuous nine-minute miles.

          During Jill’s interview, Cheryl talked about how encouraging the spectators were along the route. “You’re doing good #448! Keep it up!” People didn’t know her from Eve, but they acted like family. Cheryl said that she once slowed to help a man whose foot was bleeding. She said, “What can I do?” The man said, “Keep going!”

At the 19-mile mark, Cheryl was pretty much played out, but the crowd just kept encouraging her. At the 22 mile mark, a guy named John Hicks came out of the crowd and started running next to her, all the while, calmly offering encouragement. With the finish line in sight, Hicks stepped to the side and joined the onlookers. So many nice people. 

I don’t know where John Hicks is today, but I doubt he realizes this particular moment of kindness that he displayed 32 years ago.  I imagine he’s added a few thousand similar moments of kindness.  By the way, ten months later Cheryl ran in the 1990 San Antonio Marathon, beating her time by 17 minutes, thus qualifying her for the Boston Marathon.

          My last family story has to do with the Country Western Songwriting Contest that Jill organized for March 16, 1990. I don’t remember this event. Kay doesn’t either. And she won the thing! She wrote, “Workin’ Mama”. It’s about a working mother with three demanding kids and a jerk for a husband. Keep in mind that Kay and I have no kids, so it’s a fantasy. --The chorus:  “Three kids to feed. My life’s in a rut. I’m trying to do it all, and you’re sitting on your butt.” 

There was a five-way tie for second place. My nephew Tommy, wrote: “Payin’ all my Bills”, sung to the tune of “Margaritaville.” I thought he nailed it. 

Dardon Ann, Dennis’ wife, wrote: “The Best Oklahoma Had to Offer”. It was about how terrific Dennis is. The last part of the chorus goes, “He makes my life a little softer, and oh, whatta pretty face.” -- Give me a break! 

Mom penned “You Promised Me Forever.” It was another woman-done-wrong song. Elsie wasn’t writing about Faris. She just liked the Dixie Chicks. I am too, but I chose to write about the scorn of a woman.  I came up with “Your Tail in a Crack”. I didn’t win, because the song was too sad. 

Jill wrote: “I’ll Love You Till the Cows Come Home.” It was applicable at the time. Unfortunately, Jill’s husband was the judge. Without telling him the names of the authors, she read all of the song lyrics to him. He picked Kay’s song, the one that really should’ve kicked him in the butt. 

          Just thing, Jill has preserved several hundred memories, for our family. I’ve barely touched the surface. I fear some of ‘em may not be quite so uplifting. You’ll find that in everyone’s history. Except for Mom, of course.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com