Three weeks ago, when I came to Princeton, I lost something: my pecan-pie-latte-ginity. If apple is pumpkin spice’s forgotten little sister, pecan pie is the family fish that died when the family went on vacation. I was intrigued when I saw the pecan pie latte on Sakrid’s fall menu. Nuts in coffee are always a curious flavor combination. In the last three weeks, I’ve returned to Sakrid multiple times to reorder the pecan pie latte, each time with a different person. “Get the pecan pie latte,” I insist, “it’s like nothing you’ve ever tried before.” Two out of four times, my Sakrid companion has thrown away their drink before finishing it.

The pecan pie latte looks like any other latte; it has a color code of F2BA6F, a shade of light brown. In D.C., a local coffee shop I frequented would offer a cherry blossom latte throughout the spring. The latte was bright pink — it looked like Pepto-Bismol. It wasn’t something you’d want to drink. The pecan pie latte is unassuming. And yet, it divides the Princeton population.

Bella and I go to Sakrid at 2 pm on Friday. There’s no line when we order our two small pecan pie lattes. We claim a high-top table as we wait for our divisive brew. It’s not either of our first times trying it; a week earlier, on a Thursday morning when neither of us had class, Bella and I came to Sakrid, and I insisted that she try the pecan pie latte. The first time we tried it, Bella shrugged at the first sip, merely saying that it was good. This time, Bella is more descriptive.  “It’s like I ate burnt sugar and then backwashed it into my coffee, let it decompose for an hour, and then took a sip,” she says, “it’s not bad.” Bella rates the drink three pecans out of five. Doesn’t look like she’ll order it again.

The espresso is strong in the initial sip; it’s bitter and coats the front of your tongue. Then it’s like a mouthful of soy sauce. The syrup takes over your mouth, and there’s an umami to this latte that pairs with the espresso to create an earthy harmony. Then, it’s like a mouthful of soy sauce and sugar. This milky soy sauce flavor coats the back of your tongue. Suddenly, you understand what you think you’re drinking: espresso mixed with milk, soy sauce, and simple syrup. But that’s not what you’re drinking—  you’re drinking Sakrid’s pecan pie latte. While reviewing the latte, pecan-pie-latte-gin Michael Grasso walked into Sakrid. He did not buy a drink; instead, I offered him to dip a straw into my cup and try the pecan pie latte. Grasso reacted, “I’m not into that…there’s like a weird sweetness at the end. Kind of tastes like mucus, that sweet mucusy flavor.” He walked away after that and remarked that he was happy he did not buy his own drink. Michael did not get a chance to rate the drink out of five pecans.

I can’t stop drinking it, though, I do wonder, however — where is the pecan? Bottles labeled “PECAN” sit on Sakrid’s shelves. Are these bottles filled with soy sauce? Is the pecan pie latte some sort of cruel experiment about consumerism? The buttery, nutty nut is not present in this latte. Where is the pie? I’m halfway through the drink now, and there’s this smokiness hitting the back of my throat. Like a fine wine, this pecan pie latte has tasting notes. I’m getting honey, cedarwood, espresso, and dirt. I find it delectable. He did not enjoy the soy sauce note as much as I did. I give the pecan pie latte five pecans out of five.

Out of four pecan pie latte tasters, I was the only taster to enjoy the latte. I wonder what that says about my taste palate. Perhaps I am the only fan of the pecan pie latte. Maybe the pecan pie latte is not nearly as divisive as I thought. Am I the outlier?