If you think mornings are best started with regret and a vague sense of optimism, Eight O’Clock has clearly read your diary. They’ve rolled out new flavors—Caramel, Blueberry Waffle, and their Iced Dark Italian Espresso—and I, ever the willing test subject in the science experiment that is “coffee marketing,” tried them all.
First up, the Eight O’Clock Iced Dark Italian Espresso. Supposedly designed to be brewed over ice, because clearly you and I can’t just pour hot coffee onto ice cubes without written instructions. It’s dark, strong, and has that “don’t talk to me until this cup is empty” energy. They say it carries hints of chocolate and caramel, which I imagine means the beans once sat near a Snickers bar in the warehouse. Still, I’ll admit—if you follow their oddly precise ritual (8 oz button, never glass, and maybe whispering sweet nothings to your tumbler), the result is surprisingly smooth. Strong, bold, and caffeinated enough to make you believe you can finish that inbox. Spoiler: you can’t.
Then there’s the Eight O’Clock Caramel K-Cup Pods. Medium roast, buttery-sweet, and honestly tastes like someone melted a Werther’s Original directly into your mug. They call it “bakery-inspired,” which is cute, since the last time I had bakery-level caramel, it was stuck in my teeth until July. The flavor isn’t cloying, though—I’ll give them that. It’s sweet without the sticky aftermath, which is good since coffee shouldn’t come with dental floss.
Finally, the wildcard: Eight O’Clock Blueberry Waffle Coffee. Yes, blueberry. Yes, waffle. It smells like you just walked into a Sunday morning diner where the waitress calls you “hon” and refills your cup before you’ve finished sipping. The taste? Precisely what happens when a waffle and a blueberry pie have a love child and then dissolve themselves into medium roast coffee. It’s weird. It’s delightful. It’s wierd again. I couldn’t decide if I loved it or wanted to chase it with plain water, which probably means it’s working as intended.
Eight O’Clock has been at this since 1859, which, considering how much of my life now relies on coffee, feels reassuring. They’re not chasing trends so much as reminding us that coffee doesn’t have to be serious. Sometimes it’s bold and strong, sometimes it’s caramel-drenched, and sometimes it’s a blueberry waffle in a cup—which, frankly, feels like breakfast and bad decisions blended. And I’ll keep drinking it anyway.