Better late than never, they say.
Starbucks celebrates your birthday by sending a postcard gifting you with any drink your heart desires.
To receive said requires that you have a Starbucks cash card, register it online and input your address and date of birth. The card usually arrives within a few weeks of your birthday, they say.
My birthday’s on the Ides of March.
I waited for the card to arrive. Waited and waited. And waited some more. Weeks passed and still nothing.
So I rang Starbucks. Explained the situation. They pressed a button. Or something.
Within a week or so it appeared in the mailbox.
Better late than never!
A handsome postcard methinks:
Naturally I’m not about to waste a freebie offer on my usual tall drip!
Neither partake on any ol’ plain day.
So I held on to that card for a while. Mulled and speculated and wondered what I might get when the time came. An-ti-ci—-pated with laudable patience.
When the occasion arose, I knew. A call from a galpal. We met for coffee.
Now, the thing to know is I’m not one for frufru cocktails or coffees.
Those popular monstrous drinks laden with shots and syrups and sugars that are whipped, whirled and stirred and topped with whipped cream are milkshakes to my mind. A meal. Dessert. That people begin their mornings with them boggles the mind! That they don’t fly on the buzz, collapse into sugar comas or pile on the pounds …
Oh wait, they do.
To briefly illustrate how outta the loop I am, I sampled for the first time in modern history and memory a frappuccino only last month, when Starbucks was running a happy hour special. Decided to see what all the hoopla’s about.
So with warning and hint of apology, I informed the barista that I was a frap newbie. Told her what I was seeking to create (a drink minimizing the sugars and fillers and flavorings).d She guided me through the options as if leading a bus tour through town.
She handed over the little frozen contraption and request: “Let me know how you like it.”
I sipped. I swallowed. I spoke. “Nice. A treat. Not something I’d order every day.”
The dark hot java remains under no threat from the frufru brews. That or the Americano, when the pocketbook permits, which is my longtime favorite. (Americano: espresso with hot water.)
Back to the birthday drink.
After lengthy consultations with the barista akin to complex U.N. negotiations, the beverage appeared:
a viente latte, in a real cup (don’t do paper unless it’s to go – very picky about that!), with 2% milk, uber hot, with an extra shot (surprisingly, the 20-oz. viente has only two), sprinkled with cocoa, white chocolate and cinnamon. Just the way I like it:
It was beautiful.
Even if it was happy birthday on the Ides of May!