I done heard mixin’ butter/Ghee an’a bit a coconut oil in your coffee can make you indestructible. A metabolism-boosting, weight loss inducing, appetite suppressing, brain-wave elevating rocket sauce for the soul. Bulletproof branded itself the sheriff of that recipe, so I’m boiling that bean this week.
Instructions are on the bag if you wanna try things their way. I'm comparing apples to apples, so it's just a splash of cream for me. On my first few sips, I noticed somethin' peculiar with the package. The beans ain't marked organic. Sure, they make other promises of being fair and fancy-free, but if ya read my Groundwork diary, beans bein’ organic is gosh-darn important.
Next, straight out the grinder, the roast stinks like an old burnt tire. What in tar-nation?
Boiled and served, Bulletproof has no discerning flavor, not good’r bad. Finishing my cup just left a ricochet of bitterness on the back of my tongue.
Supposin' I could get past those things if I were desperate. I couldn't pass what happened next. My typing fingers trembled like an outgunned bandit at high noon. More snake oil than Arbuckle’s, I started hammering on my literary six-shooter. There’s no doubt this bag belonged in the bone orchard.
Something ‘bout this bean is phony. I don't trust its trigger-happy grind. Firing marketing in all directions but missing the taste target. More shot-through than bulletproof, I'm laying these beans to rest in my garbage can. Time to mosey on y’all...