In a recent trip to Toronto, I was reminded of the existence of the Tim Horton's line of coffee and doughnut houses. I had run into them before in Vancouver; they're distributed with same same density as Starbucks in the states, they're mediocre at best, and they're strangely revered by Canadians.

Really, revered. And I don't know why. Every time I heard a local refer to such an establishment, or to coffee in general, there was an almost ritual interjection about how much they loved Tim Horton's, and wonderful the coffee was. It would not have seemed out of place if I had received some directions involving, "Go down this street to the first Tim Horton's (peace be upon him) and make a left."

But they're where coffee comes from in the great white north, and I'm a firm believer that mediocre coffee is a great improvement over no coffee.

During the particular week that I was in town, the great white north was about ninety-five humid degrees. So I walked into a Tim Horton's (blessed be his holy hooves) one afternoon, and made what struck me as a reasonable request for a large iced coffee.

The girl behind the counter looked confused. "You mean an iced cappucino?"

"Well, I actually meant iced coffee."

"But we can't do that. Coffee's hot!" She pointed to a steaming pot of coffee to help clarify this "hot" idea in my addled mind.

I chose to not get into what magic might allow one to create a cappuccino--but not coffee--without heat. "Well, yes, unless you put it over ice. Then it becomes cold."

With sudden perky realization, she asked, "You want me to put ice in coffee? I can do that!"

I agreed that that sounded lovely, and gave her some funny-colored currency.

She then poured most of that steaming pot, turned around and added a couple of ice cubes, and proudly handed me a large cup of fairly warm coffee.