“Can I get a drink started for you, ma’am?” asks a familiar face, the signature green apron draped over a black shirt and khakis.

“Yes, just give me a moment please,” I reply.

I stand back from the counter and look around absentmindedly, trying to see what thoughts might surface, what observations I might make, what my taste buds crave; all this would tell me what drink I was in the mood for. I don’t even need the menu anymore – I know all of my drinks, and each one means something different to me. In my head, I quickly review my options.

A tall white chocolate mocha – with skim milk, of course – and a thick layer of whipped cream on the hot surface. It is from this drink that my addiction to Starbucks’ coffee was born. Thinking of my special drink, my mouth instantly fills with the taste: a smooth, creamy blend of hot milk, warm white chocolate, and a single shot of espresso distributed evenly. If I were feeling bold, I would request caramel drizzle be cross-patched on top of the whip. Ironically, this caffeinated drink makes me warm and sleepy instead of waking me up – which is sometimes exactly what I need.

A triple-grande caramel macchiato – with skim milk, of course. This is my zesty wakeup drink. The next size up from a tall and with three shots of hard espresso would sometimes do it for me and really get me going through the day. What I love about this drink is that the baristas don’t mix it; the three shots of espresso sit as a thick, concentrated layer directly on top. When I lift the smooth white cup to my lips, my mouth feels almost punished by the strong, intense bitterness of pure espresso, and so much of it at once – but I make my taste buds take the “pain.” For after the hard part is over, my mouth is soon generously rewarded as a flood of sweet warm milk with melted caramel fills it, and thus the difficult journey through the espresso to the sweetness below is worth it.

A grande toffee-nut latte – with skim milk of course. The same size as the macchiato but keeping the normal grande’s two shots of espresso, the TNL (as abbreviated by the baristas) is the perfect smooth blend. I am reminded of my grandmother’s homemade toffee and the scratchy burgundy couch I would eat it on. I am also reminded of the lazy summer mornings at Lake Enid in Mississippi when I would wake up to a warm mug of hazelnut coffee before heading out to sprawl on the beach. This hot, smooth, liquidated toffee drink is a sweet luxury that trickles down warmly to my stomach.

Those drinks are my regulars, my defaults. However, there is always the seasonal drink. Each of the following drinks tastes like a certain season to me; my tongue has been conditioned to associate certain coffee mixes with the weather or mood of either spring, summer, fall, or winter. I will admit that sometimes I cheat on my seasonal drinks; for example, I order my summer drink as long as possible because I refuse to accept that summer is indeed over, or I’ll order my winter drink very early because I am so eager for Christmas to arrive.

Spring = a tall, double-blended coffee frappuchino light – with skim milk of course. A frappuchino is composed of milk, a powdered coffee mixture and ice – crushed up in a blender all together. I order mine to be blended twice so I get the smoothest sweet slush possible with no ice chunk surprises. There is the popular caramel, mocha, or java chip frappuchinos, but I prefer the plain coffee – humble in its simple sweetness. No whip this time, just a smooth, cold, simple coffee blend.

Summer = a double-tall iced caramel macchiato – with skim milk, of course. With two shots of espresso for an extra energy boost, it is the perfect icy drink to have by my side as I lay out in my bikini at the pool. Just as the hot caramel macchiato is divided into the layers of espresso and sweet milk, so it is when it is iced – although this time it’s visible through the clear cup. With caramel thickly lacing the cup’s inside walls, ice cubes swim in the clearly divided half white, half dark brown drink. Sometimes I fear that I get the drink only for its pretty appearance! But once my mouth endures the caramel macchiato journey in cold form – icy and bitter espresso followed by cold, sweet milk – I know it’s not true, and I apply more sunscreen on my face.

Fall = a tall pumpkin spice latte – with skim milk, of course. It tastes as though someone successfully blended red leaves, pumpkin pulp, sugar, spices, milk, and coffee and had it heated over a softly popping fire. With the warm pumpkin coffee in my mouth I am reminded of thick cream-colored sweaters, scarves, and fingerless gloves. As I head out the door, there is that crisp fall breeze when winter teases us with its almost-there existence, and this liquid warmth in my hand is the perfect treat.

Winter = a grande peppermint mocha – with skim milk, of course. I try to stop myself from ordering this drink until after December starts, or at least until right after Thanksgiving. With the warm tastes of candy canes, thick hot chocolate, and espresso exploding in my mouth, my door to Christmas spirit is opened. This thick, luscious, festive taste in my mouth makes me think of frost on windows, glowing blue lights in shrubs, and hot crackling fires. I’m not the only one who turns a Starbucks drink into a season; the red holiday cups contain numerous types of winter drinks: the eggnog latte, the gingerbread latte, the peppermint hot chocolate/mocha. All year, I look forward to the re-introduction of the red cups in my favorite Starbucks, as well as the lush decorations about the homey café. I consume this Christmas brew while I make Christmas shopping lists, for myself and others, as well as my New Year’s Resolutions. And if I’m lucky, I’ll grab the comfortable green chair by the cold window, literally two feet and some-odd inches of glass separating my curled-up self from white, thickly falling snowflakes outside.

Of course, this mood/taste/craving analysis takes all of five seconds to perform. My taste buds have been bombarded by different flavors and textures in a matter of moments, and they have told me their decision. I pull out my wallet and approach the counter, the barista with cup in hand, pen poised to scribble out my order.

“Yes, may I please just have a tall house blend? Sometimes, you just have to stick with the classic – with skim milk, of course.