How to Talk to Your Loved Ones about Coffee


So here you sit, delicately prepared cortado with a single origin espresso huddled between your attentive hands, and you wonder, "How can I possibly express to those I love most...that I love coffee more than them?"*

Let this be your comprehensive guide to communicating your societally acceptable addiction, your map for mitigating the mindless march through 'acceptable' coffees and lackluster espressos. 

First of all:

Don't start with words like 'macchiato' or 'chemex,' as the loved one sitting opposite you may balk at the esoteric complexity. This is ok, don't be discouraged. Have caffeinated faith that they'll get there. You are, after all, an excellent and patient guide. 

Initially it may be hard to find that integral common ground. Start by asking yourself, "Where did begin this journey?" Was it with a unicorn frappuccino? A caramel macchiato? A triple-decaf-extra-vanilla-iced-cappuccino? It's important to remember that you were once where they are. 

I've found that a happy segue (not to be confused with the fancy scooter; upon which the owner of Segway actually died, I learned recently. Drove that sucker off a cliff and yes, the subject of that statement is deliberately ambiguous. But also, dope way to go out. None of that 'drifting off peacefully' business) is the latte. It's still milky, but when done right can showcase a well-blended Brazilian, Nicaraguan espresso and properly steamed milk. 

Ok here's the scenario: You come into Souvenir, you mull over the myriad mouth-watering options (the traditional macchiato or cappuccino, the Sumatran pour over, the flat white) with your companion at your side. And you know that just moments from now, you'll be seated across from them attempting to explain how little they mean to you in comparison to delicious, hot, bean water. 

So let's practice what I'll call 'conversion communication.' Below are some examples of restating your feelings in a more, compassionate and inviting way. For example:

Instead of saying something like, "You could never mean as much to me as this Rwandan pour over," try, "Mom, it's really important to me that you try this coffee. Also please stop leaving me voicemails with your name, number and what time you called. My phone tells me literally all of that." 

Or instead of, "Jesus, Carl, I get that you let me crash with you for six months after Sarah left but are you somehow simultaneously fruity and chocolatey?" Say something like, "I really care about you, and would love for you to develop an appreciation for Souvenir's Ethiopian espresso." 

And instead of, "I've never been attracted to you, really, and this Nicaraguan nitro cold brew is literally making my mouth water," go with, "What? No babe I'm fine. This cold brew if just life-changing. Maybe we could use a little life changing." 

Ultimately, it's up to you. You with your passion for the micro-roast and meticulously dialed in grind; you with the loved one who just, doesn't, get it. 

Good luck, and godspeed. 






*In case it needs to be said, this is all tongue-in-cheek. At Souvenir we celebrate and embrace everyone. Yep, even you, ya filthy animal. So come give us a hug and have some coffee. 


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