Worms + coffee = Delish!
For most of the four-hour ride from the cottage to home, I thought about people who make neon advertising signs.
Do they ever feel like they should suggest that perhaps a customer's sign isn't exactly the most appealing?
One of the things I love about going to my parents' cottage is that they are surrounded by villages and hamlets that seem to be untouched by progress.
Most of these places don't even have a chain coffee shop. These quaint stops are still dominated by the ma-and-pa gas station/restaurant/corner store/coffee stop.
I love my grande decafs but it's liberating going into a roadside shack to grab a coffee from a carafe that could be 24 hours old. Live a little. It's part of the adventure of a vacation.
But this time, on the way home, I noticed something about many of these little stops - something I've never noticed. We pulled up to the first stop. We were just 20 minutes into our four-hour drive: I know they have coffee here. I've come here for our boat gas for decades.
There was a neon sign in the window: COFFEE & WORMS.
Maybe it was the winding cottage road. Maybe it was that I had too much syrup on my french toast that morning. Maybe I was dreading leaving serenity. For whatever reason, my stomach flipped when I saw the combo.
Years ago, when I was only about 10 years old, we were having a family dinner at the cottage. We used to have this glass jug in the fridge that stored our drinking water. The container had a red plastic flip top and was decorated in red strawberries and a swirling green vine. Once, at dinner, my mom asked me to go to the fridge and get the water. I pulled it out and discovered a metre-long worm floating in the jug.
To this day, the only explanation is that a very smart, very conniving worm opened the top of the styrofoam cup we got from Big Jer's Bait Shop, climbed through the dirt and moss and mountains of other creatures we were going to hook to go fishing, inched his way up from the bottom shelf in the fridge door to the top shelf in the main part of the fridge, slithered over the strawberry water jug, opened its little red lid and cannon-balled inside.
It's the only explanation.
So seeing COFFEE & WORMS made my stomach flip. Drinking worms. Ugh.
The next stop also had a neon sign: COFFEE + LIVE BAIT. (Better than dead bait, I suppose.)
The final stop also had a neon sign in its window: COFFEE + WORMS + GAS. (Better than coffee + worms = gas, I suppose.)
But it was here I got my coffee. A medium-bodied coffee with earthy undertones, I'd say.
Do they ever feel like they should suggest that perhaps a customer's sign isn't exactly the most appealing?
One of the things I love about going to my parents' cottage is that they are surrounded by villages and hamlets that seem to be untouched by progress.
Most of these places don't even have a chain coffee shop. These quaint stops are still dominated by the ma-and-pa gas station/restaurant/corner store/coffee stop.
I love my grande decafs but it's liberating going into a roadside shack to grab a coffee from a carafe that could be 24 hours old. Live a little. It's part of the adventure of a vacation.
But this time, on the way home, I noticed something about many of these little stops - something I've never noticed. We pulled up to the first stop. We were just 20 minutes into our four-hour drive: I know they have coffee here. I've come here for our boat gas for decades.
There was a neon sign in the window: COFFEE & WORMS.
Maybe it was the winding cottage road. Maybe it was that I had too much syrup on my french toast that morning. Maybe I was dreading leaving serenity. For whatever reason, my stomach flipped when I saw the combo.
Years ago, when I was only about 10 years old, we were having a family dinner at the cottage. We used to have this glass jug in the fridge that stored our drinking water. The container had a red plastic flip top and was decorated in red strawberries and a swirling green vine. Once, at dinner, my mom asked me to go to the fridge and get the water. I pulled it out and discovered a metre-long worm floating in the jug.
To this day, the only explanation is that a very smart, very conniving worm opened the top of the styrofoam cup we got from Big Jer's Bait Shop, climbed through the dirt and moss and mountains of other creatures we were going to hook to go fishing, inched his way up from the bottom shelf in the fridge door to the top shelf in the main part of the fridge, slithered over the strawberry water jug, opened its little red lid and cannon-balled inside.
It's the only explanation.
So seeing COFFEE & WORMS made my stomach flip. Drinking worms. Ugh.
The next stop also had a neon sign: COFFEE + LIVE BAIT. (Better than dead bait, I suppose.)
The final stop also had a neon sign in its window: COFFEE + WORMS + GAS. (Better than coffee + worms = gas, I suppose.)
But it was here I got my coffee. A medium-bodied coffee with earthy undertones, I'd say.
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