Growing up outside of Seattle, I developed a refined coffee palette. At least that’s how I prefer to describe my nearly out-of-control crazed caffeine addiction. Let me set the scene: The wafting scent of properly brewed java catches my attention, snatching me right out of reality. I begin to mindlessly wander until I’m standing in front of a cafe peering through the window, palms and nose firmly pressed against the glass. It isn’t until I wrap my hands around the mug, the first…
