February 17, 2004
I have a confession to make: I love Starbucks coffee.
This is not an easy confession for a guy like me to make. You see, I hang out in circles that some would describe as "liberal." I have friends who are against the Iraq war (while they fully support our troops), because they think presidents shouldn't lie. These people think gays and lesbians should have equal access to things like marriage, because they follow that whole fairness thing talked about by the Constitution. These people aren't too wild about multinational businesses like Wal-Mart, because they tend to stock cheap goods made by underpaid workers in foreign lands.
Some of my friends are so liberal that a few of them actually support Dennis Kucinich for president. (If I may be serious for a minute: I really, honestly, truly differ with my friends on this one. While I agree with many of Kucinich's stances, the dude bothers me. First, he has the charisma and charm of an albino eggplant. Second, he strikes me as highly delusional. He's a congressman from Ohio who is known for being a left-wing standard bearer -- and nothing else. In other words, he has about as much of a chance of becoming president as Alfred E. Neuman, and that's being kind. But here's the thing: Kucinich seems to truly believe he has a shot, and he has all along. That freaks me out.)
My friends also tend to throw their support behind smaller, local businesses. And it is in this respect where my friends and I tend to clash: While I want to grab my coffee from Starbucks, they tend to want to grab their coffee from local, independent coffee houses.
In principal, I agree withy my friends. But practically, I go to Starbucks because -- and I say this lovingly -- many of these local coffee chains tend to have coffee that tastes like tires that started to rot before being caught in a freak inferno.
I got in BIG trouble once when I dared criticize the coffee at Java Jungle, a popular joint on First Street in downtown Reno. Writing for another publication, I described the coffee there as "awful." This statement, while arguably harsh, was accurate, although it ticked off many Java Jungle supporters, even though many of them agreed with me. I should note that Java Jungle has changed coffee providers since I wrote that several years ago, and the coffee there is actually now quite good; it's one of my favorite places to go in Reno these days, for reasons of both aesthetic and taste.
But Java Jungle is the exception, not the rule: The coffee at most independent shops is indeed awful. And while I've also had bad cups of coffee at Starbucks, often due to them burning the espresso, it's also true that more often than not, I can expect a great cup of coffee pretty much on any block of any city in the world.
I try to rationalize my love of Starbucks and its tasty vanilla lattes. I remind myself of the fact that it's consistently ranked as one of the best companies to work at for entry-level workers. I point out that they make an effort to grow fair-trade coffees. I look at the toy drives they do over the holidays. This is all good stuff.
Then my friends point out that Starbucks has put many local coffee shops out of business. In large cities especially, Starbucks are so common that small coffee houses have been annihilated completely from the cityscape. Support the local, small business, my friends tell me. It's the right thing to do.
These arguments always work. Thus, I trudge over to my local coffee house, and more often than not, gag at the taste of their so-called coffee. Nonetheless, I choke it down, telling myself I am doing the right thing.
Then, the next day, as I drive around town, I pass a Starbucks. And another. And yet another. I think of how good a venti no-foam vanilla latte would taste. And I find myself stopping.
As I sip from my $4 latte, and the sweet, rich taste delights my tongue, I sigh -- out of one part happiness, another part guilt. It's a conflicted life, being a progressive coffee drinker.
Now, if I can just avoid stopping at Wal-Mart on the way home ...
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan in exile in Arizona who gives a shout-out to the handful of locally-owned coffee shops that serve a decent brew. Jimmy's column appears here Tuesdays, and a column archive may be viewed at www.jimmyboegle.com.