I don't think you Americans have ever quite recovered from the Boston Tea Party, that rebellious 18th Century act during which members of the Sons of Liberty boarded three ships in Boston Harbour and, in protest of the British tax policies, threw 9,659 Pounds Sterling worth Darjeeling tea into the sea (which is probably what sparked the recipe for the blasphemous dunking of tea bags in later years).

Because if there is ONE thing Americans can't do very well - and most of them will readily admit to it too - it's making hot tea.

Those of us who grew up in former, more recent British colonies, are used to everything from tea cozies, teapots (which are also foreign concepts in most parts of America. After a desperate search, I finally managed to buy a real teapot at Ikea, a Swedish home store), preheated cups, milk and sugar.

At best, most Americans dunk a teabag in a mug (forget about dainty cups and saucers), pour hot-but-not-necessarily-boiled water over it and voila! Tea a la America!

It's enough to cause the Queen to abdicate.

If you REALLY want to throw an American waitress off course, be daring and ask for hot tea with milk. They don't seem to be able to quite grasp the concept.

But don't despair! All is not lost on the hot beverage front in the States.

Enter that delightful (if slightly potent) brew called coffee to save the American day and people like me, who can be accurately summed up by the following witty slogan nabbed from a mug: "Instant Human. Just Add Coffee."

Let it be said early on that I'm not exactly what you'd call a coffee connoisseur. Sure, I would like to THINK that I am, but the fact that I even like airport and airline coffee would be a dead giveaway to my indiscriminate nature (and desperation. But never mind that now).

But oh, I DO love my coffee! In fact, the only time I ever venture into the coffee maker's private quarters (that room, which in other people's homes is better known as the 'Kitchen') is when I make (or try to make) myself a pot o' coffee.

My friends know that they can serve me almost anything, as long as you can't see through it. Oh, and it should at least smell like coffee. For: "No coffee can be good in the mouth that does not first send a sweet offering of odour to the nostrils." - Henry Ward Beecher.

With milk and sugar, please. Because my coffee should be like my favourite kind of guy: strong, but also very, very sweet.

Back to America, where coffeehouses like Starbucks have become all the rage (there is possibly one on every block in Washington D.C., and I do believe it's just a matter of time before they start to build more Starbucks shops in the parking lots of existing Starbucks shops).

For those of you who aren't familiar with Starbucks (ye poor deprived and sleepy fools!), they serve up the Java Juice in every possible flavour, size and form you can think of: from frothy cappuccinos, lattés, mochas and Au Laits, to jolting little espressos that will keep you awake until NEXT Thursday.

But honestly, as much as I love the coffee shops and cafés, you need a complimentary cup of coffee just to be able to navigate your way through the exasperating array of decisions to be made: choice of size (which in Starbucks is written in Italian. I've since come to realize that it's a clever ploy to make more money, because most people - okay, me - are only able to pronounce Grande, so that's what I they end up ordering), choice of coffee, flavour, milk (the choices of milk alone take up an entire aisle at the supermarket), method of sweetening... I think one deserves another complimentary cup after successfully managing one's way through that tongue-twisting and thirst-inducing list.

Simply writing about it has worn me out. Think I'll go and have a cup o' wake-up while I leave you with some quotes in defense and defiance of the brew.