Mrs. Thiessen sat down this afternoon, ground up some barley from the bin out back, and made herself a lovely cup of Pripps.
“Ahh, just like my Oma used to make it,” said Mrs. Thiessen, sipping carefully on the cup of hot sludge. “Wow, this really takes me back to a time before I developed a taste for actual coffee.”
Mrs. Thiessen invited all her friends over for a Bible study this afternoon, but the women vacated the premises when they saw the beverage their friend was serving.
“Pripps? Come on, now! What is this, the dirty thirties?” wondered Mrs. Reimer. “If Starbucks ain’t serving it, I ain’t drinking it.”
Mrs. Thiessen tried to convince them to stay and even offered to try to brew up some chicory weeds she’d been storing all winter.
“I don’t know why those women can’t appreciate a good coffee substitute the way I can,” said Mrs. Thiessen. “Oh, well, I know my Henry will drink it all when he comes in from the barn.”