f&$% yeah

This weekend, one of my favorite coffee joints in GR closed its doors for good. Sad day.

76 Coffee was a hole-in-the-wall next door to Yesterdogs in Eastown that my friend Morgan and I discovered this past summer. Overrun by hipsters and always smelling vaguely of pot, it quickly became our favorite place. (Oddly enough, since neither of us are hipsters or pot-smokers.)


But how could you not love a place with a larger than life painting of Biggie?

Seriously.


Morgan and I would meet here throughout the summer and fall to get our favorite drink and chat about life. School, work, men, future in-laws, books, gossip, dreams...like ya do.

Our favorite drink was the aptly-named F&$% Yeah. Described on the menu as 25 cents better than a Hell Yeah, it was pure, creamy coffee goodness. To this day, it's a mystery to me what was in it.

The following conversation occurred on my final visit.
Me: "So, what exactly is a F&$% Yeah?"
Barrista: "Um, it's delicious."
Me: (obvious disappointment) "Oh. Ok."
Barrista: (lowers voice) "It's a secret."

Riiiight...

Morgan moved to Florida this winter. (Along with her boyfriend, Jeff, who is Kyle's best friend. Sad day.) I really wish that she could have come with me to get one final F&$% Yeah. Because I couldn't bear the idea of drinking the final F&$% Yeah without her, I stuck one in my freezer, to defrost and drink with her in August when she and Jeff journey to the Mitten for our wedding.

Me & Morgan, Summer 2010

Like Morgan said, a freezer-burned F&%$ Yeah is better than no F&$% Yeah at all.


Thanks for the good times, 76. Godspeed! you black coffee.