The taste of desperation.

"Did you make a drink?"

I pause, wary, hand hovering over my cup. Whhhyyy?

"Should I be writing about it?"

Um, sure. I guess. It's nothing amazing.

"Let me get a document going. You want to take pictures?"

And lo, we get to the real reason I started this blog. A love of beverages that, more often than not, has me rifling through the cupboards and throwing miscellaneous items into a saucepan. In this case, my motivation was little more than a desire for caffeine. A desire as yet unfulfilled since I have been waylaid into writing. I have a love-hate relationship with coffee that, for reasons I won't get into, has left me with my only resource of the moment being, yes...

Instant coffee.

That bane of all that bears only the most coincidental resemblance to anything that could be described as coffee, sitting on the shelf in waiting for various desserts. Ruefully, I grab the bottle and proceed to contemplate what could make it more palatable.

Into the unwholesome brew (using about two cups of lactose free milk as a base) goes a few spoons full of cocoa (Dutch processed), a healthy dash of cayenne pepper, an egg yolk, a sprinkling of smoked salt, something like a tablespoon-and-a-bit of sugar, a pinch of ground ginger, a splash of vanilla, and a bit of cinnamon to top it off. All capped with a fluffy lid of whipped cream that has dwindled to a pathetic foam during the course of this post.

The resulting drink is heavy and a bit bitter with a pleasant bite of spice that was... a bit too much for my poor sister. Most importantly, the taste of instant coffee is almost entirely disguised. Mission accomplished. Excuse me while I replace my ignominiously slain whipped cream.