Have you ever woken up in the morning and thought to yourself ‘I want a very, very mediocre cappuccino’ (and can’t be bothered walking to Good Earth)? When the urge strikes, I go straight to Kahlúa.
Kahlúa is a coffee flavoured liqueur, for those of you who are liqueur inclined. Coffee-flavoured things always make me feel ever so slightly grown up, even if I’m consuming gallons upon gallons of ice cream in the process. So, when I found out there was an alcohol option, I was intrigued. By intrigued, I mean a light, iridescent fanny flutter. My labia mimicked a beautiful butterfly about to take flight. Upon consuming Kahlúa, I found it to be a vaguely underwhelming, but still valid, experience. In my opinion, milk and alcohol shouldn’t mix. I can’t explain this phenomenon, but I can only liken my drinking time to the way that 18th century passengers on the boat to New Zealand must have felt: sea sick and missing the sweet teat of the motherland. Kahlúa will rock me back and forth and I won’t know if it’s the bunk bed next to me, my own sweet fingers, or this goddamn drink.
The next time you want a hit of caffeine, maybe just stick to telling all your friends about how much you neeeeeed coffee to survive; it’s the same high. Or post a gif on Facebook. Or wear ridiculously tight leggings with ugg boots. Overall, you will need to drink a tonne of milk in order to get a decent amount of drunk off Kahlúa. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; someone’s got to keep the racist farmers of this country in business.
Taste Rating: 4/10
Froth Level: Union Grill. Take that how you will.
Pairs well with: Dripping cows’ nipples, all purple and puffy.
Tasting notes: Bean juice makes my brain go woo-woo.