In October of 2001, Bill, my mom and I drove to Montana to check on Bill's place in The Yaak (The only town in the U.S. that starts with a "The"). It was just after 9/11 and heading for the hills near the Idaho/Canada border felt like an escape of sorts. The 10 day adventure that awaited would involve no indoor plumbing, electricity from the generator we would enjoy sparingly, no tv, and a radio that picked up only CBC news from Alberta. But there was coffee. And I could live with that. On day one, we set up shop; cleaning the house, getting the generator going and rifling through the 50 gallon barrels of flour, popcorn and other necessities for Armageddon. We were really just visiting, but it felt like we were digging in. While mom and I worked on the wood stove, Bill made coffee, prepared it for us and brought it over near the fire which was now driving away the cold, damp air. Coffee would be good. I took a sip, looked at mom who had the same look of disgust and came to the conclusion that this would be a long cup of coffee and a long 10 days in the Yaak. Bill makes awful coffee. It would seem, that a man who drinks his coffee black, is quick to put any white substance in someone else's coffee. It was salt that sweetened that cup of coffee and thank God he had more beans to grind.
Re-enactment of this morning's cup of coffee (Part 1)
Why they put the unlabeled salt container next to the Splenda, Sweet n'Low and non-dairy creamer is beyond me. But needless to say it was naaaaasty.
Re-enactment of this morning's cup of coffee (Part 2)