the best and easiest homemade iced coffee

I've never done a "how to" post before, but I have to share this.

Iced coffee is one of my favorite treats, and Dunkin' Donuts is my favorite place to get it.  In fact, I've written about my love of Dunkin' Donuts a time or ten on this blog.

I'm not exaggerating.

There was the time they falsely advertised pumpkin flavored beverages.

And the time Emily had to low brow it at DD instead of her usual Starbucks.

And of course, the time I incorrectly counted my change and didn't have enough to pay my bill and so I pretended I did not speak English.

Unfortunately, a large iced coffee at my beloved DD runs upwards of three American dollars, and since I haven't won the lottery yet I decided I should figure out how to make my own version at home.  After many trial runs, I think I've finally perfected my recipe.

Most recipes I found online involved cold brewing coffee for days, but I didn't think that would work for me because I already have an economy sized box of K-cups and also, I do not own the cheesecloth required to strain the coffee grounds, nor do I know where to buy it.

First, brew hot coffee, add a tiny bit of sugar, and freeze in ice cube trays.  I make a bunch at once and keep it in a bag in my freezer.  I like to make some cubes big and some tiny so that I can fit as many as possible in my cup.

A little caffeine maximization, if you will.

When I wake up each morning, I fill a glass with the coffee cubes and pour milk over them.  I add a spoonful of sweetened condensed milk if I'm in the mood to take a walk on the wild side.

Or really, a walk of any kind.  Because S.C.M. isn't exactly low calorie.

I stir it all up and let the ice cubes melt while I dry my hair and do my makeup, and it's perfect by the time I'm ready to walk out the door.

Since I've been making my own iced coffee, I haven't even had the urge to visit Dunkin' Donuts.

But obviously, I will have to go back sometime.  I'm going to need new blog material eventually.

at least i know pat sajak's name

Yesterday morning I had a meeting at Panera and I ordered an iced coffee.  I haven't been drinking coffee recently and the reason is twofold.

First, thanks to Dunkin' Donuts' irresistible summer promotion, every single morning from April 20th through June 20th I treated myself to a large iced coffee with a double shot of caramel, cream, and sugar.  I thought it might be a good idea to take a little break from beginning my day with a giant cup of sugar.

Second, I had a bottle of Chips Ahoy flavored creamer in the fridge that I planned to reserve for weekends only.  I decided Sunday morning that I'd love nothing more than a nice hot mug of coffee and I pulled the creamer out of the fridge only to discover there was about a tablespoon left.

Evidently someone had been drinking the creamer and also drizzling it on the occasional bowl of ice cream.

I won't name names, but there's only two people who live here and it was not me.

So, I got a big cup of iced coffee yesterday and I don't know if it was the fact that I hadn't had coffee in a few weeks, or that Panera includes some sort of illegal substance in their beverages, but by the time I arrived at the office at 1:30, I was KEYED UP.

I share an office with one of the attorneys I work with because my life is very glamorous.

Speaking of glamorous offices, Matt's company moved to a new office downtown and this is his view.

 His company occupies ten stories in the building and on the first level they have their VERY OWN BISTRO.

Do you know what's on the first floor of my building?

The coroner.

Anyway, by about 3:30 my energy and I had shredded seven boxes of paper, jammed the copy machine, sent about forty six emails, re-recorded my voicemail greeting, and checked the mailbox four times.

I also responded to my emails out loud by talking to my computer, which is fine when I work from home but I guess it wasn't pleasant for my office mate because when we were packing up our laptops I said to him, "I just wish that for one day, ONE DAY, I could say what I really think."

And he said, "Let me know what day that is, I might want to take off."

I thought I'd calmed down by last evening, but when we were making dinner I heard Matt say something about Alex and the last names of the feuding families in Romeo and Juliet and I said, "ALEX?  WHAT DOES ALEX HAVE TO DO WITH ROMEO AND JULIET?  WHAT WAS ROMEO'S LAST NAME ANYWAY?  I CAN'T REMEMBER.  AND WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ALEX AND WHAT DOES SHE HAVE TO DO WITH SHAKESPEARE?" 

Because I thought he was talking about my brother's wife, Alex.

And then I saw Jeopardy was on TV.

And I proceeded to laugh because the host's name isn't Alex it's ALEC.

Matt and I like to have World News Tonight on while we get dinner ready, partly because we like to be caught up on all current events and partly because Matt loves to call David Muir "David MEEEE-UIR."

After David Meeeeeuir was over tonight, I heard, "...and now, here is the host of Jeopardy, Alex Trebek."

Alex.

With an X.

I glanced at Matt but didn't say anything in case he hadn't heard, but he smiled with satisfaction and said, "You know, I was pretty sure last night that it was Alex, not Alec.  But I didn't think it was a good night to debate it."

He was right about both things.

Tomorrow, I'll be drinking herbal tea.

at least we had donuts

As a follow up to my last post, I will share that I went back to the mall this weekend and bought a few more things for my work wardrobe, including a black skirt.

Actually, two black skirts.

Okay, actually three black skirts.

Apparently I'm trying to create some sort of uniform for myself.

This morning I put on the fanciest of the skirts because I had a new employee starting and I wanted to look like a boss.

Usually I get flowers for new employee's desks, but since this particular employee was a man and I wasn't sure how he'd feel about a vase of daisies, I decided to pick up some donuts instead.

I stopped by Dunkin' Donuts and was about ten minutes into my commute when I glanced down and saw a gigantic rip right in the front of my new skirt.  And then I sat at a red light and contemplated whether or not I could keep a file folder strategically positioned over my right thigh all day without looking like a nut.  In the end I decided that I couldn't, so I went home to change into a pair of pants.  And I considered grabbing an extra outfit to just keep in my trunk in case I ever need spare clothes in the future.

My pants and I made it to the office in record time.  I had to set up the new employee's user account and he needed to add numbers to the end.  He said, "I'll just use my birthday.  July eighth, nineteen NINETY TWO.

Someone born in 1992 is old enough to be a grown up and have a real job.

And I was born in 1988 and am considering keeping a spare outfit in my trunk.

Age is just a number.

Speaking of jobs, Matt works for a huge law firm and his boss told him that he'd have to go to University of Pennsylvania's law school a few days this week to answer any questions new law students might have about technology.  Matt anticipated the question pool to be pretty shallow and was geared up for a week on easy street.  He even considered bringing a few issues of American Hunter in case he had some down time.

And then he walked into the meeting on Monday and one of the firm's top partners said, "Now everyone, make sure to utilize your trial master, Matt."

MATT THE TRIAL MASTER.

It turns out his boss didn't give him the full story, and he was assigned to be working at the firm's trial academy for incoming associates from around the nation.  The first day's mock trial had quite an impact on him and he's now contemplating law school.

He also sent me this text on his way home.

He held true to his promise because when he got home tonight he had a bag with half a dozen donuts in hand.

It was good to start the evening on a high note because after dinner we had to complete my open enrollment insurance information.

Insurance is not my wheelhouse.  For example, when I got my first real job I brought the insurance information home for my dad to look at and said, "I didn't look at it too closely but they have a cafeteria plan! Can you believe it?"  Because I thought a cafeteria plan meant lunch every day.  And that I'd hit the jackpot.

And then my dad broke the news that this is the real world and a cafeteria plan is a type of health insurance plan.  MAJOR BUMMER.

The insurance torch has now been passed to Matt.  I think in our marriage vows we should have said, "I promise to love you in good times and in open enrollment."

In the last few months I had a full eye exam and ordered six months worth of contact lenses.  When I made the appointments Matt asked if I used my vision insurance and I said no, because I didn't get vision insurance last year.

We logged into my benefits accounts tonight and Matt said "Let's check exactly what insurance you had last year so we can compare."

Guess who got vision insurance last year.

Whoops.

HAVE A DONUT MATT, AND REMEMBER HOW HAPPY YOU WERE TWO MINUTES AGO.

Luckily I still have my current insurance through the end of the month, so guess who will be getting a brand new pair of glasses next week?

I'm hoping that my vision will be better than ever.  Maybe it will so clear that I will notice a rip in my skirt before I leave the house.

i certainly couldn't give it up altogether

When I was a little girl, my dad would empty his suit pockets when he got home from work and leave any change he had in his pockets on my dresser.  After dinner I would count the change, and if I counted correctly I got to keep it.

If I counted incorrectly, I had to donate the money to the poor.

More often than not the money was donated to the poor, because differentiating between a nickel and a quarter and their respective values is evidently a task that I've struggled with since I was six years old.

One of my very favorite things in the world is Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee.  There is a spring promotion going on at the DD stores around here and iced coffee is just 99 cents plus tax.   That brings the total to $1.05 and you better believe that I have been taking full advantage of that sale.

Matt and I collect our change to use for special treats, and since iced coffee definitely counts as a special treat, each morning I grab $1.05 from our coin jar and get my coffee.

One day last week, I rummaged through the change jar for my coffee money and grabbed two quarters and a nickel.

For those of you playing along at home, that is only fifty five cents.

I drove up the street to DD and marched inside with my three coins because I was feeling so confident and superior because HELLO, I COME BEARING EXACT CHANGE.  And my superior attitude and  I placed an order for "iced caramel coffee with skim milk, sugar, and extra ice please."

"That will be one oh five," said the woman behind the counter.

I handed over my three coins and waited while she looked at them and flipped them over and over in her hand a few times.  And then she slowly looked up at me and said, "One dollar and five cents.  This?  Only fifty five cents."

And I have no reasonable explanation for why I reacted the way that I did.  I can only imagine it came from a place of deep embarrassment.

But here is what I did.

I pretended that I did not understand English.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

It must have slipped my mind that just seconds earlier I'd ordered an iced caramel coffee with skim milk, sugar, and extra ice please which is a very particular order for SOMEONE WHO ALLEGEDLY DOES NOT SPEAK ENGLISH.

I made a few gestures with my hands and pointed to the parking lot like a crazy person.  And then I made the walk of shame to my car to scrounge up two more quarters because I'd been so confident in my coin counting that I'd left my wallet in the car.

And to top things off, as I made my shameful exit, the wind caught the door and it flew into the glass window of the store next door, so I looked like a crazy person who knows just enough English to make a very specific coffee order and has an anger problem.

I returned with two more quarters and a red face and sheepishly handed the coins to the lady behind the counter.

Once I had that iced coffee in my hands I literally ran out of the store.

Never to return again.

Because that iced coffee may only be $1.05.

But my pride is worth more than that.

And by "more than that" I mean driving a quarter mile further to the next DD.