Tall, Grande, or Venti?

I’ve mentioned on more than one occasion that Flamenco Dad is a complete coffee snob. As a result, he has spoiled me to the point that coffee from most retail establishments now takes like what I suspect sewer water would taste like.

Bless his heart, my hubby orders his coffee beans online and grinds them every time he makes coffee. Swoon! Have I mentioned that in the twelve years we’ve been together, I can count the number of times I’ve made coffee on one hand?

For years we’ve been ordering from this coffee purveyor in New York (we found them while strolling through Greenwich Village while we were out on a date). Recently we decided to give the folks at Boca Java a try, and have been very pleased with the results.

Never one to rest on his laurels, the man been searching for even more ways to get his coffee on with even fresher-tasting results. And so, this arrived via UPS yesterday. Oh, and so did these. So last night my husband came home from work and, not unlike a kid in the proverbial candy store, proceeded to roast his first batch of coffee. I think I heard him squeal in delight once or twice.

My entire house smells like a coffee house–not a bad thing, right? I told my mother-in-law that I’m going to have to set up some tables on the front lawn, slap on my apron, and go around taking orders a la Flo from Alice. In the meantime, I’ll be in the kitchen baking scones, lemon squares and the like for the handsome, and somewhat obsessive, coffee elitist I married.

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