A friend who has access to such stuff gave me a pound of Starbucks new “Blonde” bean so that I could decide for myself if it was as bad as I expected. It’s worse, bringing to mind Monty Python’s riff about Australian wines coming in a poor second to Aborigine armpit sweat. Who comes up with a product like this? How could a panel of coffee makers sit around the cupping room, taste what they had produced and declare it fit for pig washing and human consumption? Poor pigs.
The unused portion of those beans is headed for the Bridgeport incinerator and my friend is now off my Christmas list – his was a cruel joke to play on anyone.