I’ll Take My Coffee with Oat Milk and Zero Judgment, Thanks

So apparently, unless I drink my coffee black—like the depths of a tax accountant’s soul or the void behind my eyes during Monday mornings—I’m not a “real” coffee lover. At least, that’s what Kyle on YouTube told me while lovingly caressing his espresso machine like it was the Ark of the Covenant. According to him, those of us who dare to enjoy milk or syrup in our coffee are just coffee-adjacent impostors. Forgive me, Kyle, for I have frothed.

Apparently, adding oat milk is a sin against the bean. Sweeteners? Blasphemy. Cream? I might as well pour sadness straight into my cup. Somewhere out there, a man in a flannel shirt is shaking his head because I’m “masking the notes” of my coffee. Notes? I’m just trying to survive the morning without crying into my mug.

Let’s talk about this mystical “true coffee lover.” You know the type. They drink their coffee black and bitter, preferably served in a mug made from reclaimed barn wood. They say things like “it’s got a floral nose and citrus finish,” as if they’re auditioning for a Netflix documentary called Beans of Suffering. They sip it, wince, and call that enlightenment. Meanwhile, I’m over here with my hazelnut oat milk latte, having a small spiritual awakening that tastes like dessert and feels like joy.

Here’s the thing: coffee isn’t a religion. It’s not a personality test. It’s just… coffee. A moment of warmth before the day claws at you. A sip of sanity before you remember your inbox exists. If I want to add caramel syrup and whipped cream, that doesn’t make me less of a coffee lover—it makes me someone who enjoys pleasure, and last I checked, that’s not a crime.

Maybe I don’t need to recite the elevation where my beans were harvested. Maybe I don’t need to know the barista’s zodiac sign. Maybe I just need something warm, caffeinated, and comforting enough to make me forget that my cardiologist said caffeine is “something to watch.” (Sorry, doc.)

So yeah, I’ll drink my coffee however I want—black, blonde, iced, whipped, or topped with enough foam to qualify as a small cloud. Because here’s the truth: if it makes you happy, it’s the right coffee. And if you’re sipping it with joy instead of judgment, you’re already doing life better than most people in line at Starbucks.

Now excuse me while I go order something with three syrups, two shots, and zero shame.

How do you take your coffee—bold and bitter or creamy and sweet? Tell me in the comments, or subscribe for more caffeine-fueled confessions from a chef who believes life’s too short to drink judgmental coffee.