The band's coffee is very regular and not metal
How’s that for a Korn pun?
According to the website, Korn Koffee is “a smooth, dark roasted blend of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe, Guatemalan Huehuetenango, and Organic Peru beans mixed with Vintage Black Diamond by J. Gursey Coffee that has been uniquely curated by the members of Korn.” This isn’t just coffee. This is coffee approved by Jonathan Davis, Brian Welch, James Shaffer, Reginald Arvizu, David Silveria, and Ray Luzier. Anyway, here’s how it tasted.
Upon opening my 12-ounce bag of Korn Koffee, I was smacked by a strong, sweet, toasty, albeit slightly burnt, aroma. It reminded me of the kind of coffee you’d smell walking into a bagel shop or a small-town cafe. Not unremarkable, but certainly nothing memorable. Touching the shiny, black beans, I noticed an oily feel that signaled these beans were indeed of a darker roast and likely to taste as such.
I figured I wasn’t going to jump for joy and say that Jonathan, Brian, James, Reginald, David, and Ray should quit their day jobs and become coffee roasters. With a sigh of resignation, I threw the beans into my coffee grinder and stopped when they achieved a medium grind. Upon sniffing the pulverized beans, I noticed the sweet smell had slightly gone away, leaving my nose hanging out exclusively with a deep nutty aroma that was, sigh… Here To Stay.
I tried this coffee twice, once plain and again with milk and sugar. My expectations were pretty low by this point, but my first taste of Korn Koffee wasn’t that bad. Despite the strong nutty, toasty, flavor, I found the overall taste to be bold and weak all at once. There was a bitterness that woke me up, but the taste just wasn’t really definable. It tasted like regular coffee, the kind of stuff you’d drink at a wedding.
The second taste involved (lactose-free) milk and sugar, which I didn’t expect to change much. Turns out, being wrong never tasted so good! Korn Koffee really soars when you doll it up with milk and sugar—lots of sugar! Maybe it’s the bitterness and sweetness joining forces to form a particularly enjoyable bite or the fact that I drank this stuff super early in the morning, but I’d probably drink Korn Koffee again.
I actually also made my wife try it, though I chose not to tell her beforehand as I was curious about her reaction. I carefully poured her a cup, doctored it up, and gave it to her. As we sat in bed together, I pondered how she’d react if I told her the band Korn personally inspected each and every molecule of coffee in her mug, more or less. As I suspected, she didn’t react at all. Nothing. She drank her coffee, took a shower, and went about her day. When I asked her later on if she liked the coffee she offered the following word:
You hear that, guys? Jonathan? Brian? James? Reginald? David? Ray? My super awesome and hot wife thinks your coffee is good!
My first memories of Korn involve a friend of mine named Chris who showed up to the first day of seventh grade wearing a Korn hoodie. Chris was a big red-headed dude—still is—and intimidated me the moment I looked at him. Who was this dude? Why was his hoodie emblazoned with an incorrect spelling of “corn?” Chris ended up being one of my favorite guys in school and a dude I hung out with every day until I moved away to college. But that’s besides the point. The point is: I’ll always remember our teacher taking attendance, calling on Chris, and then sporting a wry grin before saying:
“I hope they know the “R” in their name is backwards.”
Moral of the story? You never know how a nü metal band’s branded coffee beans are going to make you feel. Actually, maybe there is no moral to this story.