I want to start this article by stating that I am not a coffee person. I don’t like the taste, and one‬ of my goals coming into college was to avoid the caffeine addiction that is seemingly ever-present these days. That being said, there have still been plenty of times through my years at‬ Calvin when I’ve found myself at Peet’s — socially, at a meeting or just craving a drink I don’t‭ normally have.‬

One of the side effects of getting coffee infrequently is that I don’t have a go-to order and have‬ zero clue how to go about experimenting to find one. Freshman year, I’d hear the people around me ordering a drink with a million different modifications; “two pumps of this” and “that kind of milk,” and my own order of a mocha latte with no changes would suddenly feel a lot more …‬ plain. I’d hear my barista friends talk about their favorite creations they’d make for‬ themselves, and I’d get the sense that I was missing out on the best drinks simply because I didn’t‬ have the knowledge required to order them.‬

My solution? Defer to the people that did have it.‬ 

The next time I went to Peet’s, I stepped up to the counter and told the barista, my friend Megan‬, to make “a drink.” Whatever she wanted, no restrictions. The only questions I had to‬ answer were “iced or hot” (iced) and “sweet or not sweet” (somewhere in the middle) and then‬ she was off. The exchange was much easier than normal, and the end result would be way better than whatever I‬ could order otherwise — or so I hoped. After a few minutes, I heard the call for a “mystery drink”‬ and grabbed my coffee off the counter. Megan watched with a smile as I took my first sip,‬ waiting to hear my thoughts.‬

It was good. Really good. Although I still wasn’t a fan of the bitter coffee taste, I could‬ appreciate how it worked with the overall flavor profile. I knew enough to be able to pick out‬ simple flavors like vanilla and cinnamon but anything beyond that was completely unknown.‬ When I turned to ask Megan what my amazing new drink was made with, she simply shrugged,‬ still smiling, and said in her London accent, “It’s a mystery.”‬

I had a few other friends take sips in an effort to figure out what my coffee was, but that proved‬ just as unfruitful as my own attempts. Mild frustration arose pretty quickly. I finally had what felt‬ like a “real” drink, and now I could literally never order it again. After a beat, though, I realized‬ that was sort of the fun of it all. A mystery coffee becomes that much more exciting when you know that this is likely your only chance to experience whatever drink you’re handed. With that,‬ a new tradition was born.‬

Nearly every time since that day I’ve found myself at the front of that line, my order has always been the same: “a drink.” I’ll admit I’ve had a few coffees I’m completely okay with never tasting again, but the vast majority of the drinks turn out to be pretty dang good. Consider this‬ article your call to try the same sometime, I promise you won’t regret it! Some baristas are content to simply pick something off the menu they think I’d like, but the best results always seem to come when I get something they’ve cooked up themselves. It always makes me feel just a little special whenever I’m handed someone’s pet project. For just a moment I get to join this‬ secret club of those who know enough about coffee to make their own innovations and develop new specialties. There’s a certain joy that comes when I get to respond to “What did you order?”‬ with a smile and “I have no idea.”‬‭

I won’t pretend that ordering random coffee is the most profound action a person can take, but as time has gone by and I’ve talked about my habit with a few friends, I’ve realized that maybe I’m onto something here. In a world where self-reliance and autonomy are increasingly prioritized, relying entirely on someone else’s taste creates a brief little moment of interdependence. The temporary nature of mystery drinks is also kind of a cool reflection of how we interact with others and the relationships we form and lose all the time. There’s a good‬ chance I’ll never see some of those baristas again, but for just a moment I got to experience a‬ little part of their world, their taste and what they think is good enough to share with a stranger.‬ Thank you to the baristas who, even if only because they have to, bear with my strange order and‬ deliver me amazing drinks time and time again.‬

Could I have learned how to properly order a coffee by now? Absolutely. But where’s the fun in that?