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While this democratised the use of real coffee, filtering had two drawbacks, quite apart from the need to buy the consumables: while it might have been acceptable in a cafe to sell filter coffee, where the fast turnover meant you got it reasonably fresh, too often at home the results were stewed, stale, bitter coffee with a nasty aftertaste and secondly, no matter how good the mechanism for creating the coffee, it would still not produce acceptable results if you used second-rate ground coffee.
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In the early 70s two innovations advanced the British coffee-making habit: one was the advent of freeze-dried instant coffee, which cannot mask the flavour of cheaper robusta beans but undoubtedly enhances the flavour and aroma of instant, such that it tastes more like the real coffee to which it is supposed to approximate – though increasingly up-market instants began to arise based on the infinitely superior arabica beansīut at the same time cheap plastic coffee filters came into common circulation, initially accompanied by packs of filter-ready coffee and filter papers that were eventually replaced by permanent gold filters. All-nighters in preparation for degree finals eventually converted me to my current mode of drinking coffee strong as creosote, and in spite of spells of cold turkey I still drink it to this day – albeit mostly restricted to the morning. My coffee gradually became darker and stronger to accommodate the caffeine fix all coffee drinkers yearn for. It was only later I got to cut down sugar until eventually I had none, ditto with milk. That was truly vile even now I shudder to think of it, yet apparently you can still buy the stuff! By comparison, the instant served by Auntie Annie, even though she added milk and about four spoons of sugar, was delectable for a young boy. However, I detested the liquid Camp coffee with chicory beloved by my grandmother, and served with sterilised milk. Unlike America and the continent, instant coffee had a firm grip on the British market from way back. That was utterly blissful!Īdmittedly the day to day coffee was only box standard Nescafé, which I learned to like in the mid-60s, courtesy of one of my dad’s aunts. Upstairs in the café you ordered your favourite cup and cake or sandwich. Downstairs they roasted and ground the beans, and you could buy your half pound of fresh ground coffee, with more varieties to choose from than I ever knew existed. Firstly it was through asking about my mother’s 1950s chromed coffee percolator, which she never used in my experience other than one occasion where she made some in the Italian tradition of the time, a clear cup half filled with coffee and half with warmed milk.īut the clincher, long before the invasion of the Starbucks, was the Kardomah coffee shop in an arcade in Coventry’s shopping centre (the Wikipedia article linked doesn’t mention Coventry among the locations of their cafes, though I have a vivid memory of it being there!) Even going past the shop was enough to lift you off the street and into heaven.