Chinese Broccoli

This week on "Cultural Anthropology & Easy Targets"...

Although I purport to have standards, I am always keen for a wacky field trip. And when Laurel—my friend here with whom I am occasionally tied in the running for Most Complainy Ex-pat American—suggested we use the free coupons we each got in the mail to go check out Far Coast coffee's new Toronto store, I was like, well, sure.

See, we both knew this was going to be a funny if not scary experience. Because aside from Far Coast opening up in a dubious area — a corner lot in boutiquey Yorkville that used to house a Lululemon and other reprehensible overpriced stores that still could not seem to keep up the property taxes — we knew another little thing about Far Coast.

A little thing they don't advertise anywhere in the store.

A little thing that might, if you really thought about it, not make you want to drink their coffee so much.

Y'see, Far Coast is an experimental new coffee retail model run by Coke.

Coca-Cola. They are selling you coffee now. Or rather, they want to. They have opened this Toronto outlet—along with stores in Singapore and Oslo—to see if Coca-Cola Blak has truly primed the palates of international consumers who are ready to take Coke-branded coffee one step further.

Far Coast's decor caught biting the styles of Beck Taxi

So when I arrive, the first thing that strikes me is that it's pretty. It's clean and polished and has nice wallpaper. But upon further examination it's a little baffling. Are we going for eco-rainforest here? Japanese wabi-cha? African Lion Safari? Basically it looks like a Cost Plus threw up in here. There are huge stylized posters of people of ambiguous ethnic origin enjoying the ancient aromatic flavours of Far Coast coffees along the walls—coffees with names like "Belegante" and "Opal Noir". Laurel and I are a little frightened, but I think, hey—there are eight Starbucks within a two block radius of here. So their coffee must at least be serviceable, even if a little scary, right?

No. The coffee is just scary.

And although I don't often say I should go around being more cynical, I should have been in this case. We approached the coffee bar. And we saw these.

This is about when I started to panic

That's right. Proprietary pod-style espresso machines. You know, pushbutton kind. Like at the gas station.

I handed over my coupon and the Coke drone ("Why bother having employees?" said Laurel) pushed a button for "bold" coffee and "cappuccino" style milk and soon had dispensed me a "coffee" in an admittedly very stylish and technologically interesting partially double-walled cup. It was, needless to say, only barely drinkable. Though L. and I both agreed that it was the kind of thing we might be okay with if we were, say, on a plane.

But as we pretended to nurse our scary Coke coffees in the mysterious global village of decor that is Far Coast, our minds began to grow more and more resentful. Other than the obvious abrading qualities of pandering to the ancient/third world by a megalithic colonial corporation, one thing really annoyed us. There was a mancala set on the table behind us. Full of coffee beans.

Where did they even get coffee beans? I mean, you and I both know the stale coffee pods are drop-shipped from Atlanta. What's with all the sacks of decorative beans you aren't using lying around next to the cast iron Japanese teapots you aren't using either? (If they're going to spend all this money on the decor, Laurel and I kept asking—why not actually spend some of it on the beverage product?) Cheeky, Coke. Very cheeky. Just like the huge gestures towards eco-responsibility throughout the store ("Revel in our diversity. Respect the planet we share." is posted over a ginormous recycling bin), everything smacks of pandering. Though their packaging—those double-walled 12% post-consumer-waste cups, not biodegradeable, and topped with handsome teal injection-moulded lids—is at least pretty and interesting, from a packaging engineering standpoint. But I will probably not start drinking coffee based on packaging engineering. (Microfoam rosettas maybe, but I do have a little self-respect.)

The double-walling ends before the last inch of the cup—saving millipennies off the Coca-Cola bottom line!

But overall, I'd still say Far Coast is worth a visit if you are in the area. Because without a doubt, it has an extremely nice bathroom. The only catch here is that the bathrooms are upstairs—but guess what, lazy people? It's your lucky day! Far Coast has an elevator! Not only is the store itself good for a laugh (while it's still in business), you can check out a convenient and clean Yorkville washroom in the middle of your Christmas shopping or spree of arsonizing celebrity restaurant hangouts. And after you sample their plumbing facilities, you'll be ready for a little taste of the future. Take that, ancient worlds!