Java Wars: McDonald's Vs. Starbucks

This winter a new war erupted across the American landscape as McDonalds premiered a new entry in the battle for America's caffeine cravings by offering a low fare alternative to the higher priced, specialty brews. As a consumer of ten cups of java a week I was somewhat hesitant to give the golden arches company a chance at providing good coffee without paying the good coffee price.

For the last ten years, I've been an ardent supporter and consumer of the offerings of the nearest Starbucks, touting them as possessing the best brand of coffee in the world. For me, my morning coffee is like saying hello to a neighbor. It never gets old. And it can never be dull. The role of that cup of coffee is simple; to awaken every faculty that is still trying to remain tucked away beside my wife. I'll admit, I saw the commercials and was not the least big intrigued. How could the place known for Big Macs and great French fries give the world a better tasting cup of coffee? Why would anyone in their right mind choose a cup of coffee at McDonalds over a cup of coffee at my beloved, Starbucks? I refused to believe it possible. That was until I didn't have the time to wait in line at Starbucks and made the intriguing choice of racing through the lines at McDonalds.

To decide whose coffee I enjoyed the best I employed grades based upon the three critical areas essential for enjoying a great cup of joe. For me the essentials are presentation, price, and palette. A good cup of coffee must not be difficult to drink, hold, or keep warm. For some people these are nonessentials, but for me they are paramount. When it comes to price, I don't want to pay an arm and a leg for something that is only going to be at its best for ten to twelve minutes. Four dollars is my maximum for what I will pay for a specialty blend of coffee. And even then, I'd rather pay less. My palette is the most central part of the coffee experience. A bad tasting cup of coffee stays with you for an endless amount of time. It sucks the wind out of your throat and breathes its horrid aftertaste in, leaving you making a face sure to display your displeasure.