“I will never forget my first cup of coffee. I was 13 years old and I spent the coldest morning I can ever remember hunting with my father and his friends in Red Hills of North Florida. Once we returned to the camp, I found a fresh pot of hot coffee steaming on the stove. I poured a cup and loaded it up with sugar and powdered creamer hoping it would be tolerable. I can distinctly remember what that warming cup of coffee meant to me on that cold morning. It was more than a life saver... it was a right of passage.”- William Lamb
I drink my coffee black. My roommate in college and I had boxes of grounds since his dad owned several barbecue places around Alabama, but we din't have any money for cream. So we learned to like it dark. Strong.
Through that process I got a real taste for good coffee. For learning to taste the difference between something great and something decent and something just plain bad.
And I've been looking for something new to try, so I wrote up the Lambs and asked them if I could get a pound of their coffee. Straight from the roasting bed in Tallahassee, Fl. They shipped me one, and I about couldn't wait to open it up and give it a try.
And yesterday I finally got around to grinding it up in my burr and French pressed me some and I tell you it was about the best Saturday morning coffee I've had in a year.
Give it a try sometime (you can order it right here on their Facebook page). Cause it's always good to know who to thank for your morning buzz.