I have become such a coffee snob that I almost feel sorry for myself. Lovers of good coffee miss out on the simple experience of average coffee drinkers – the ability to down a cup of common restaurant quality coffee and be satisfied. No, this coffee addict must constantly seek out the incomparable dimension of flavor demanding taste buds pay attention and savor every delectable moment in true sensory involvement. To appreciate coffee is to know daily disappointment at the hands (or pots) of coffee purveyors everywhere. How can anyone enjoy the bitter coffee that has been sitting in a glass pot on a warming tray for a half hour at your local Bob Evans? I have only had truly excellent coffee, outside of my own home, three times in my life; once in the home of a German lady who put so much coffee into the pot I thought we’d die of caffeine overload, once from a Norwegian lady who brought her own coffee to my home because “American coffee is so bad,” and once in a Peets cafe in Seattle, WA. Those three experiences shaped my coffee desires forever. I traded the red plastic can of Folgers for a glorious bag of whole coffee beans from exotic places like Ethiopia and Sumatra and never looked back. Currently, I’m hooked on a coffee from the Pacific called Sulawesi-Kalosi and I get it from Peets. So pity me. I’m obsessed. I’m intransigent. I’m unbending. I’m intractable. And, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee now.