Why I broke up with the Pumpkin Spice Latte
I still wanted all the fall feels. So I found my own version.
The first cup of coffee I ever drank was in Vienna, Austria.
Everyone says that when in Vienna, you’re supposed to drink Viennese coffee with a slice of Sacher-Torte, so I dutifully ordered a cup.
It was not an immediate love connection.
My first impression, as recorded in my travel journal, was less than enthusiastic.
“So bitter. I kept adding sugar to it and had to gulp it down so I wouldn’t taste it.”
Which is funny, considering at this point in my life, coffee is so entwined with my morning routine that I sometimes think about it when I go to sleep at night.
It wasn’t that I disliked coffee flavor. I happily ate coffee ice cream and coffee-flavored hard candy. I just apparently didn’t want my coffee to actually be…coffee.
For years after Vienna, I remained an English breakfast tea gal, with a drop of honey and a splash of milk. But somewhere along the way, probably after baby number three, I decided I needed something stronger to get through the day.
One morning after school drop-off, I met a friend at our new neighborhood Starbucks. I remember standing in line, staring up at the menu board and feeling completely overwhelmed.
Espresso. Latte. Macchiato. Mocha.
Short. Tall. Grande. Venti.
It felt like trying to read a foreign language.
When it was my turn, I did the only sensible thing. I repeated what my friend had ordered before me.
“I’ll have a med…a tall vanilla latte, please.”
And thus I was ushered into the wonderful world of Starbucks lattes. Vanilla lattes. Eggnog lattes. Peppermint Mochas.
And, of course, the Pumpkin Spice Latte.
For years, I happily participated in the whole thing. The seasonal drinks. The special cups. Meeting friends for coffee after school drop-off. Even my favorite local coffee shops eventually got in on the fun, creating their own maple-brown-sugar-squash-whatever concoctions every fall.
I loved all of it.
I mean, come on, who doesn’t want the feeling of walking down a cobblestone street in the Cotswolds with the fall leaves blowing around, wearing plaid, while carrying a Pumpkin Spice Latte?
The problem was, I never felt particularly good after drinking one.
Over time, I started cutting back on the syrup. My three pumps of syrup became two. Two became one. “One-pump tall vanilla latte, please.”
Still, I kept ordering them.
Years into my latte era, while trying to figure out why I didn’t feel great after eating or drinking certain things, I came across a piece of advice so simple it hardly seemed like advice at all: Pay attention to how you feel after you eat or drink something, and take note.
That’s it.
So I did. Not just with coffee, but with lots of things I was eating and drinking and I started noticing patterns.
Including the way I felt after one of my beloved seasonal lattes.
The truth was, I didn’t feel great. It would sit in the middle of my stomach like a big, heavy blob of dough. And once I noticed it, I couldn’t really un-notice it.
And I’ve got too much I still want to do to spend my afternoons feeling like that.
So, with great disappointment, I eventually stepped away from the holiday latte party and became the person who orders a “tall Americano with room,” then adds a small splash of half-and-half. Or at home, a mug of brewed coffee with a similar splash of half-and-half.
Not nearly as exciting. There are no videos of women frolicking through the Cotswolds clutching “Americanos with room.”
And every year, when Pumpkin Spice Latte season rolls around, a little part of me still wants to participate. But somewhere along the way, I realized I hadn’t actually lost the part I loved.
I still have my morning coffee ritual. I still love fall. I still get excited when the leaves start changing and the sweaters come out and suddenly everything everywhere is pumpkin spice. I’ve just figured out a version that works better for me.
These days, give me my Americano with a splash of half-and-half and a thick slice of homemade pumpkin bread, and I’m perfectly happy.
And if I’m really embracing the season, I’ll make a double batch of pumpkin bread and give a loaf to someone else, which somehow makes the whole thing feel even more fall-ish. Like I skipped down the cobblestone street to deliver warm bread from my basket to the cottage next door.
Maybe that’s the thing. Sometimes we don’t have to give up something we love. We just have to figure out our own version of it.
Mine happens to come with pumpkin bread.
And if you’d like to join me, my Pumpkin Spice Bread recipe is below. Make two loaves. Give one away. It’s more fun that way.
Cheers,
Carrie
Pumpkin Spice Bread
This recipe originally appeared in my cookbook, La Pomme de Portland. These days I make it a little differently the original, using all-purpose flour instead of a combination of all-purpose and whole wheat pastry flour. I also sometimes leave out the chocolate chips, depending on who's eating it. It's delicious either way, especially with a cup of coffee on a cool fall morning.
Makes one 9×5-inch loaf
Ingredients
1½ cups all-purpose flour
1½ teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
⅓ cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
¾ cup granulated sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 cup pumpkin purée
½ cup dark chocolate chips, optional
Directions
Bring the refrigerated ingredients to room temperature. Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 350°F. Grease a 9×5-inch loaf pan.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.
In a small bowl, combine the milk and vanilla. Set aside.
In a large bowl, beat the butter until creamy, about 30 seconds. Gradually add the granulated and brown sugars and beat for 3–4 minutes. Beat in the eggs, one at a time. Add the pumpkin purée and beat on low speed just until blended.
Add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the milk mixture in two additions. Beat on low speed, or stir with a rubber spatula, just until smooth, scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary.
If using, fold in the chocolate chips.
Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and bake for about 60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.
Cool in the pan on a rack for 5–10 minutes, then remove the loaf from the pan and allow it to cool completely.
Although eating a slice while it's still a little warm is highly recommended.
The more life I live, the more I understand how precious our time is. What even a few minutes is worth. It doesn't go unnoticed that you spend some of your day here with me. Thank you for letting me be a small part of it. I hope you always leave with something meaningful.🤍☕️