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My little cup of heaven

And we now begin the Scottish chronicles…

Throughout the last year I’ve developed a bad habit. Starbucks. Now it’s not something I do everyday. My body can’t handle either the calories or the caffeine but on a Friday morning it means “You did it. Saturday is tomorrow!” It brings me comfort and relaxation. Only way to make it better is to have it be coffee with my sister on Saturday. It’s even gotten to a point that I am a Gold Card carrier.

Naturally I was curious whether my habit would have to go on hold for a week during my trip. Or whether I would have to find a new source… Not that I can’t enjoy a coffee from somewhere else. I’m not one of those people.

I got off the plane in Edinburgh to be greeted by the lovely site of Costa. Oh heavenly Italian cousin of Mr. Sbucks. And I’m really sad to say far tastier cousin. So my Scottish relaxation started with a medium creme brûlée latte. I exited the airport like a pro with a rolly suitcase in one hand and in the other 2 cups stacked on top of one another like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I looked like a legitimate New York City crack whore. I had found my new dealer.

Now Sbucks does a great job with all my favorite flavored lattes but a coffee connoisseur can argue the actual quality of their coffee. Sometimes it’s far too acidic and sometimes just outright burned. After a week with Costa I also have a bone to pick with Sbucks about the quality of the baked goods and more lunch type items. That being that while Costa had very basic sandwiches (that they would put into a panini press for you) they were actually really quite good. The muffins didn’t taste like a slightly better version of what you would pick up at the supermarket. They actually tasted like they had come from a bakery. Because they had.

I was further impressed, in general throughout the trip, at how dedicated everyone is to being green. Of course in Britain there is a much wider system of recycling and higher expectations of people participating appropriately. This was evident in the number of people who came for coffee with their own cups and how many people asked for an actual ceramic mug if they were going to sit for a while. It was never automatically put in a to-go cup for you.

All of this leaves me missing my British ham & cheese melty and gingerbread latte. But I am inspired to get myself a travel mug. If I’m going to be an addict I might as well be responsible about it.

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