As you folks probably know, I’m a huge fan of Starbucks.
Well, the Pike’s coffee tastes like it was filtered through a wrestler’s jock, so—excluding that.
Hell, I’m a gold card member (bitches!!!) which means absolutely nothing other than that it’s probably the lowest barrier-to-entry metallic card you can get. I’ve noticed over the past few years how Starbucks has tried to take their stuff upmarket in certain areas, and judging by the celebrity* clientele at my local celebrity Starbucks, I guess my…*ahem*…celebrity-rich Starbucks qualifies.
(I once stood next to Kimora Lee Simmons there and she looked like a tan whale with Sharpie eyebrows. True story.)
Clover-brewed coffee was the first move that Starbucks made upscale, and it’s individually-brewed coffee instead of the ratchet liquid that comes out of that big metal cistern. Some varieties are surprisingly smooth and not at all bitter—10x better than the normal coffee.
Which sets my twisted, conspiratorial mind ablaze—maybe…just maybe…they made the basic coffee shitty just so you’d pay twice as much for the drinkable good coffee. In the words of Gregory Peck in Moby Dick, “IM ONTO YOU STARBUCKS”
The hot breakfast sandwiches at Starbucks are delicious and just may be the reason why I’m still alive. There’s no greater relief than chowing down on a bacon gouda after you’ve drank green tea on an empty stomach and you’re pretty sure your organs will consume upon themselves and you’ll be the origin of the next black hole, slowly sucking in patrons until you bring about the end of the world.
The Starbucks in Calabasas now has Starbucks Late Night, and while it sounds like a shitty Baywatch reboot, they actually serve wine, beer, and snazzy appetizers (snazzetizers). I have yet to try that, mostly because what-the-fuck-reason-should-I-be-in-Calabasas, but the next time I get a Kris Jenner drunk sext, I’ll review it (likely in a bruised yet oddly-satisfied state).
Which brings me to “La Boulange”, the new bougie Starbucks product line that starts today based off of some obscure San Francisco bakery. The tagline is “delicious pastries NOW SERVED WARM at your neighborhood Starbucks”, so thankfully my cataract eyes can only read the important part.
As I ordered my “hot passion tea” this morning (which may as well just be a Viagra bouillabaisse with a description like that) I asked the barista (gawd I hate that word), “ah, this is the new stuff, right?” while pointing at the case.
He sneered. “It’s not JUST new, it’s also preservative-free”, before thrusting a brochure in my illiterate face.
I never thought in my life I’d need a brochure to read about pastries, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
I peered into the case at the tiny little loaf cakes and croissants and noticed one thing missing—the price. Eventually, after whipping out my 7th monocle, I was able to survey the damage: $3.45 for a ham and cheese croissant.
I backed slowly away from the pastry case, which may as well have been displaying jewelry. Too rich for my blood!
Then the temptation grew, metastasizing like a benign tumor inside me. After all, it has the potential to be really splendiferous and then I’ll ignore the price completely.
I did the unthinkable. I coughed up $3.45 for a fucking pastry.
I don’t think the barista appreciated me half-joking that if I didn’t like it “it’s on YOU” but I can only please one person per day and it was just not his fucking day.
I got the weird little coaster-shaped object two minutes later. Starved, I bite into it with reckless disregard for the roof of my mouth, only to be pleased that today was not a day where I’d burn off my hard palate. The croissant part was pretty good, and tasted what I guess could be described as “fresher”? Maybe fresher than a croissant from the discount rack at the grocery store? I don’t frequently consume stale croissants so I don’t know what they taste like but I do know this didn’t taste like that.
Then I bit into the ham-and-cheese center. Bland, inoffensive, gormless, lifeless. I take one bite farther. Cold. Miserable. Spiteful. Lonely.
For some reason, I know I’ve tasted this before…
Oh yeah! It’s a ham and cheese fucking Hot Pocket.
Shit. I just spend three and a half bucks on a pastry I could have bought a box of at Ralph’s down the street for the same price.
I don’t know who you’re convincing that you’re all fancy and Fraaaaaanch, Starbucks, but you ain’t foolin me with your microwave-special-delights. Three thumbs down.
UPDATEEE:
So what happened was…
A couple hours later, I went up to the counter to get my hot passion tea refill, and the barista asked me how the pastry was. Usually I’d be polite and smile and say “good” but I grew a pair (of anti-ovaries) and said, “it was actually cold in the middle”.
I’ve never watched someone die, but this was as close to it as I’ve ever gotten.
He stammered–the oven this morning wasn’t working (well then why did you recommend I get an oven item, dumbshit?)–they were SOOO overwhelmed–he had cramps–WTC 7 was a controlled demolition–other unintelligible excuses.
Then he offered to get me anything I wanted on the house. That was nice. I opted for the tomato and cheese croissant to give this whole Boulange shit a second shot, fully realizing they would potentially nuke it this time out of spite.
I tried it and sure enough it was…pretty good. For a Pizza-flavored Hot Pocket.
Goddammit.
The barista checked on his way out to make sure they got it right this time, so two thumbs up for that.
Two thumbs up for this too if it was a buck. One thumb if it was a buck fifty.
Two thumbs down for being three bucks and change.
So if you guys really, desperately, still want to try the new La Boulange croissants, stop by my apartment later…
…we’re making Hot Pockets.
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