Lauren Poltorak ‘26
Professional Taste Tester
Human existence is marked by its unpredictability and chaos. Much like the leaves through the seasons, we grow, thrive, whither, fall, and are reborn–though hardly ever do our lives play out in a linear fashion. In the midst of this madness, we as a species seek to find consistency. Our endless quest for comfort has led us to the conception of one of the most popular fall beverages: the pumpkin spice latte. Every autumn, people all over the world can rest comfortably knowing that–despite the whirlwind of pandemonium that rules over humanity–this delicious drink will always return. I have taken it upon myself to venture into the fierce crowds of Café Babel to try out this fall staple and hopefully gain a greater understanding of the nature of humanity.
To be honest, I’ve never had a pumpkin spice latte before. I’m not a big fan of pumpkin flavored foods in general, but this is for the greater good. Apparently, they’re trying something special for Halloween coming up, so I’m excited to see what they come up with. As I wait for my order, I notice an odd smell that I can’t quite describe. It’s a bit unnerving, but whatever. I make my order and wait patiently to receive the beloved pumpkin spice latte. Standing here, a dull and distant noise catches my ear. It fills me with even more unease, and I try to listen over the lively chatter to figure out what exactly it is. Mechanical buzzing and…screaming? I can swear that’s what the noise is, but I have no time to focus further. The barista calls my name and hands me my drink.
Now that I have it in my hand I can start my review. The color is a bit concerning, as it seems to be blood-red instead of orange like you would expect. Oh well, best not to ask too many questions. I sip through the straw to get my first taste. Immediately, I notice that there are tons of chunks mixed in the coffee. Is a pumpkin spice latte supposed to have pulp like this? I chew on the bits. Some are tough and chewy, some are mushy and dissolve in between my teeth, some are rock hard. I spit the hard bits out and examine them; they’re white and sharp. Pumpkin seeds maybe? I also can’t help but notice the taste. The flavors of the cinnamon and coffee are underscored by a faint metallic twinge. The drink is pretty disgusting and I truly do not want to keep drinking it, but I continue anyway in the hopes that it will begin to taste as good as everyone claims. Eventually, the straw gets clogged by something, but I swirl it away and choose not to think about it too hard. Through grueling effort, I finally reach the bottom, where a layer of the foam from the top remains and I see…a single human eye staring back at me.
My arms go weak and the plastic cup falls onto the ground, spilling what remains of the beverage onto the floor. I stand in a state of shock, unable to react. It clicks in my brain–the screams and the blender–they’re butchering people and blending them into this popular seasonal beverage. Everyone around me is glaring, not out of disgust for the slaughter, but out of annoyance at the fact that I caused a disturbance. They return to their tasks and keep drinking. Surely this cycle of destruction will continue next autumn.
Featured image courtesy of Smithsonian Magazine
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