The average rent for a one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco is somewhere between $3,400 and $3,600 a month. If you live literally anywhere other than San Francisco (or maybe Monaco) then that number sounds like a joke, but — trust me — there’s nothing funny about it. The cost of living in the Bay Area is 62.6 percent higher than the national average. So, if a cup of coffee anywhere in the U.S. costs around $2.70, then you could expect to pay somewhere around $7.04 for that same cup of coffee in San Francisco.
Unless, of course, you’ve put on your top hat and bow tie and ordered a cup of the “Port of Mokha” coffee from Blue Bottle, which costs $16.64 (after tax). No, it’s not made from coffee beans that have passed through the digestive system of an Asian Palm Civet and no, it’s not locally sourced from a hydroponic chemist. It’s simply a cup of standard, black coffee.
Having recently imbibed this delicacy, I can say, price point aside, it’s a really, really good cup of coffee. Certainly in the running for the best coffee I’ve ever had. It’s easily the cleanest tasting coffee that I’ve ever had, and likely the smoothest too. It’s full-bodied and low in acidity and free of the chemical film that comes with lesser, more common coffees. The taste is sprinkled with subtle notes of plum and strawberry and — according to the liner notes in the booklet that is served with the coffee itself — “crystalline,” whatever that is.
Yes, it is a damn fine cup of coffee, but is it worth 16 bucks a cup? Because it’s time to talk price.
In all honesty, the Port of Mokha tastes about as good as a cup of coffee made from a $16 pound of beans. It’s also served with a mediocre cardamom and sesame cookie which — like all coffee shop pastries — is regrettably dry. It taste like a cookie that was delicious yesterday but, after a lonely night in the pastry case, lost its lust for life. I’m not joking when I say that the thing looks like a treat that you would feed to a small bird.
So why did I pay $16 for a great cup of coffee and a “meh” cookie? I’m not quite sure. I don’t regret the purchase, but I also have a little bit of disposable income. I wouldn’t buy this coffee every day, or every week, or even every month. Hell, I will likely never buy it again. I don’t feel $16 wiser, or improved, or enriched. I don’t even feel $16 more caffeinated, and wasn’t that kind of the point?
Sure, it’s fun to talk about. My friends and girlfriend all guffawed at the idea, my coworkers thought it was hilarious, everyone I’ve talked to about my $16 cuppa has been insanely interested in the prospect.
“You actually paid that much for one cup of coffee?” they ask, bewildered.
Maybe that’s what I’m paying for…bragging rights, or a nice conversational trump card.
“Oh, you had a good latte this morning? Well let me tell you about this $16 cup of coffee I bought last week…”
In writing this, I’ve found myself facing an existential crisis. If you’re like me, you expect your coffee to be cheap, hot, and caffeinated, because that’s what we’re used to receiving on a daily basis. We wake up, we go to Starbucks, we throw $2.70 at a teenager, and in return we get a hot cup of morning joe. But was that teenager paid a living wage? What about the person who roasted the coffee? The farm hand who harvested it? The team that grew it? If I pay $16 for a cup of coffee, does that mean that everyone involved in its production gets a little more money, or do all those extra dollars go in Blue Bottle’s pocket?
As our world becomes more global, we’ll all have moments like this, in which we can ask ourselves about where our products come from and how they arrive in our hands. Maybe I paid $16 for the privilege of peppering myself with these deep thoughts (because having the time to ruminate on expensive purchases is truly the ultimate luxury).
On the other hand, I currently pay about $2,000 a month for a 600-square-foot apartment in the Bay Area, so perhaps paying $16 for a cup of coffee actually makes some kind of bizarre sense. Or maybe, and this is a long shot, I’m just an idiot.
