I really wanted to like this coffee, especially because I have such fond memories of the caf&eacute; itself on Decatur Street in the French Quarter of New Orleans from days gone by. But there is no similarity between the heavenly coffee I enjoyed down there and this vile brew. When I opened the can I was disappointed by the aroma, which was redolent of old socks, and the coffee itself looked like roasted, coarse-ground weeds; there were actually what could only be described as twigs in it. But I had to give it a fair go so I went through an entire can before I finally gave up on it. I tried various brewing methods and coffee-to-water ratios but one thing was consistent: No matter how I brewed it, the result was always harsh and bitter, and it left a nasty aftertaste that lingered on the palate for hours.