With the price of coffee constantly on the rise, I'm always on the look-out for a good bargain. Which is the only explanation I can offer for why I bought a two pound tub of Folgers coffee last week. It was a weak moment; forgive me.
Priced at a ridiculously low $6 for two pounds and shipped in its own molded plastic tub with a lid, this Folgers coffee was stacked at the grocery store end cap. The lid boasts of "Aromaseal," which I imagine is supposed to invoke some kind of cryptic and highly advanced technology. I'm pretty sure it just means "this closes." Nice work with the typography, though; the tails of the R and the S swirl together to form a shape reminiscent of the top of a cup of coffee.
I pawed through the display until I found the most "hard core" of the coffee blends. This was easy to determine, because the label helpfully provides a gauge from "MILD" to "DARK." The only blend labeled DARK was "Gourmet Supreme."
I should have been warned away by the name. I can think of two words that say less than "gourmet" and "supreme." Put those two words together, and you may as well name your coffee blend "Noncommittal Shrug."
The ingredients specify "100% pure coffee," which is reassuring. I remember I worked at a job about 20 years ago where coffee was purchased by the store manager. He didn't drink coffee, and certainly didn't believe in wasting money, so he bought GBC Coffee exclusively. The weird thing about GBC coffee is that it contains… chaff. What constitutes the chaff, I cannot say. It has the texture of ground peanut skins. We used to try and blow it off the coffee grounds before sifting it into the basket.
At any rate, "it contains 100% pure coffee" is probably the best thing I can say about Folgers Gourmet Supreme. The aroma released when you open the lid and take a whiff is aggressively acidic. It has a bright note similar to ammonia, almost reminiscent of cat pee.
When I brewed it at the specified strength (1 tablespoon per 6 ounces of water), I got a pot of coffee which could charitably be described as "dark tan" in both color and flavor. Oil swirled atop the cup after pouring. The cat pee note was still very much present.
For my next pot, I doubled the amount of grounds I used. This generated a pot of coffee which was reasonably drinkable. The cat pee flavor was nicely muted by adding a splash of milk. Although distinctly "coffee flavored," this double strength brew was not remarkable. It was no better or worse than the coffee you might get at any given restaurant that offers free refills.
The problems started soon. Even at double strength, I started getting headaches about half an hour AFTER drinking the coffee. Puzzled by this reversal of the usual, I experimented a little and found that I was having withdrawal headaches. Having another few cups at the onset of a headache fended it off.
Is there really so little caffeine in Folgers coffee? Evidently so. I triple-checked the label to verify that it wasn't decaf.
The other problem is the chronic and persistent heartburn from drinking twice as much of this at double strength.
At this rate, between the antacids and using so much grounds, I doubt I've saved a cent.
Priced at a ridiculously low $6 for two pounds and shipped in its own molded plastic tub with a lid, this Folgers coffee was stacked at the grocery store end cap. The lid boasts of "Aromaseal," which I imagine is supposed to invoke some kind of cryptic and highly advanced technology. I'm pretty sure it just means "this closes." Nice work with the typography, though; the tails of the R and the S swirl together to form a shape reminiscent of the top of a cup of coffee.
I pawed through the display until I found the most "hard core" of the coffee blends. This was easy to determine, because the label helpfully provides a gauge from "MILD" to "DARK." The only blend labeled DARK was "Gourmet Supreme."
I should have been warned away by the name. I can think of two words that say less than "gourmet" and "supreme." Put those two words together, and you may as well name your coffee blend "Noncommittal Shrug."
The ingredients specify "100% pure coffee," which is reassuring. I remember I worked at a job about 20 years ago where coffee was purchased by the store manager. He didn't drink coffee, and certainly didn't believe in wasting money, so he bought GBC Coffee exclusively. The weird thing about GBC coffee is that it contains… chaff. What constitutes the chaff, I cannot say. It has the texture of ground peanut skins. We used to try and blow it off the coffee grounds before sifting it into the basket.
At any rate, "it contains 100% pure coffee" is probably the best thing I can say about Folgers Gourmet Supreme. The aroma released when you open the lid and take a whiff is aggressively acidic. It has a bright note similar to ammonia, almost reminiscent of cat pee.
When I brewed it at the specified strength (1 tablespoon per 6 ounces of water), I got a pot of coffee which could charitably be described as "dark tan" in both color and flavor. Oil swirled atop the cup after pouring. The cat pee note was still very much present.
For my next pot, I doubled the amount of grounds I used. This generated a pot of coffee which was reasonably drinkable. The cat pee flavor was nicely muted by adding a splash of milk. Although distinctly "coffee flavored," this double strength brew was not remarkable. It was no better or worse than the coffee you might get at any given restaurant that offers free refills.
The problems started soon. Even at double strength, I started getting headaches about half an hour AFTER drinking the coffee. Puzzled by this reversal of the usual, I experimented a little and found that I was having withdrawal headaches. Having another few cups at the onset of a headache fended it off.
Is there really so little caffeine in Folgers coffee? Evidently so. I triple-checked the label to verify that it wasn't decaf.
The other problem is the chronic and persistent heartburn from drinking twice as much of this at double strength.
At this rate, between the antacids and using so much grounds, I doubt I've saved a cent.
Photo credit: Flickr/maxxum