I’m a fiend for pecans. A freak. I love ’em.

Imagine my surprise when I walked into my local gas station to find Bourbon Pecan coffee in one of the brew machines… right next to my normal, Bogata Sunrise.

I had to try it. There’s no way the bourbon didn’t completely cook out. I’m just going to taste the pecans.

I paid for my coffee and rolled. I took one swig and I definitely could taste the bourbon. I dumped the rest out.

That single taste f***ed me up for two days.

Two days of ridiculous, “man a beer would taste good right now!” thoughts. Two days of glamorizing. Two days of fighting those first thoughts off with some solid recovery kungfu… Sure, I prevailed but I shouldn’t have had to in the first place. I should have known better.

The whole experience, while taxing, has been beneficial, though. First, if I ever needed a little evidence that I’m not cured, I just had it tapdance all over my tastebuds.

Second, no harm, no foul. I didn’t drink.

Third, I’m grateful for that little bit of understanding gained in the first item.

Fourth, and most important, I’m glad I have the honesty to recognize that understanding. If it were easy, anyone could do it.