John Smith doesn’t just drink coffee. He curates it like a museum director with a caffeine addiction. For him, the pour-over method isn’t just brewing; it’s a sacred ritual involving scales, thermometers, and a slow circular pour that looks suspiciously like performance art. While others are content with a Starbucks drive-thru, John treats every bean as if it were a rare diamond mined exclusively for his Chemex. Specialty coffee isn’t his hobby; it’s his personality.
His morning routine requires a level of precision normally reserved for NASA launches. First, he weighs beans down to the decimal. Then he lectures himself on grind size like a TED Talk nobody asked for. If the water temperature is off by a single degree, the brew is immediately declared “ruined.” Meanwhile, normal people just push a button on a Keurig and get on with life.
Ask John about pour-over coffee, and you’ll unleash a monologue longer than most college lectures. He’ll tell you about single-origin beans from Ethiopia, water pH levels, and the spiritual balance between bloom time and extraction. He swears that pour-over coffee tastes cleaner, brighter, and somehow more moral. It’s not just a drink, it’s a full-blown identity statement. Specialty coffee has become his guiding compass, his Instagram feed, and possibly the reason he hasn’t been invited to brunch in months.
If you’re searching for a funny gift for coffee snobs, just hand John a new kettle and a microphone. He doesn’t need caffeine as much as he needs an audience. Pour-over devotion may look absurd to outsiders, but for him it’s a calling. This article, like his coffee, is brewed with care, precision, and just the right touch of obsession.
To John Smith, the pour-over priest: may your beans always be freshly ground, your water perfectly heated, and your patience infinite. We salute your caffeinated devotion.
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