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I used to be a Folger's girl, until I realized that coffee wasn't supposed to taste like an ashtray. Now, enlightened by the swirling powers of a V60 pour-over cup, I've graduated from dusty Keurig pods to single-origin beans in a matter of months. Now I take my coffee black, lingering on the subtle notes of chicory, orange peel, and nougat. Alas, coffee truly is the best part of the day—not just a tool to open my eyes.
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