Mike Morin

As someone who prefers his iced coffee with just light cream, I nearly dropped my chalupa when I saw a photo on the Internet of a Dunkin’ extra-large coffee that nearly put me into sugar shock.

I can’t verify that it was an actual customer order, but I could clearly read the sticker that Dunks puts on each cold coffee cup containing the list of added flavors one might order. My words don’t do the picture justice, but here is what was printed on the label for Drive thru order #220:

“Ice Cof Lg OrigBlnd.” Then the litany of sweeteners began:

“4 Vanilla Shot, 4 Bluebry Shot, 4 Coconut Shot, 4 Raspbry Shot, 4 TstdAlm Shot, 4 CaramelSwrl, 4 FrnchVanSwrl, 4 BttePcnSwrl, 4 Whl Milk, 4 Splenda.”

Thank goodness for the added Splenda, which pretty much saved this person from having a completely unhealthy drink, not unlike the guy who tops off his three-pound loaded nachos plate with a Diet Coke. At 24-ounces, I’m not sure all 32 sugar shots, plus milk, plus Splenda actually fit into the cup with coffee and ice, but a Nashua dentist friend who saw the same picture, reached out to request that I give the person her business card.

As much as I consider myself to be a foodie, I am not a fan of condiments in general. Most likely, I can blame my parents who raised their Michigan family of seven kids on a pretty basic line up of Midwestern fare: meat, potatoes, vegetable, white bread and that’s pretty much it. I’m grateful for all they did for me, but if it weren’t for the Food Network, I’d still be eating unseasoned meatloaf and tater tots every Wednesday. I never had Mexican cuisine until I was 21. I didn’t experience lobster until I was 30.

Back to condiments. As much as I love French fries, I might dip them in ketchup once or twice a year. Mustard ruins a burger for me and please deliver my hot dog butt-nekkid. Pass the relish and onions to somebody else. I want to taste the pure goodness of each healthy ingredient packed into the casing of every tube steak I enjoy.

I will offer one concession confession. I actually made peace with cilantro. For most of my adult life, the soapy taste in my salsa came from the parsley look-alike. But about 20 years ago, something happened. Maybe it was a mid-life awakening. Now, I cannot get enough cilantro on many entrees I enjoy. Sometimes while cruising the produce section at Market Basket on the D.W. in Nashua, I will slither up to the cilantro, and if no one is looking, I will bury my nose in a bundle of it, to inhale its pungent fragrance the way a normal person would sniff a bunch of springtime lilacs.

I have no business dumping on the person whose Dunkin’ order I made fun of. But a shot of cilantro would have made it better, don’t you think?

Contact Mike Morin at mike morinmedia@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at @MikeMorinMedia. His column runs the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month.