Ranting
No Comments A Sad Day for Coffee
Just Yesterday I purchased not one, but two tins of coffee to use in the small espresso percolator I picked up in Naples this past summer. I remember seeing it as I was carousing various small shops in windy back roads throughout the city. I had seen a few in fact they were common in various stores I had visited throughout my two week stay. Finally committed to buying one. It is a commitment to buy something while in a different country, especially with the extra costs airlines add to luggage these days. The initial cost of a dozen small trinkets can skyrocket if you have to put them in a separate bag on your way home. Of course, I love coffee. I knew I would miss that part of Italian culture, good coffee. This particular percolator, as I mentioned was very common place, that is, in a culture that loves coffee, in quality, not quantity. It may be easier to buy a single cup machine here in the US, where you just stick the cup under the machine and it pumps out a hot cup. You know, the ones that come with prepackaged single serving coffee pouches. There is something missing there. It may be easier to get your coffee that way, but there is something lost in automation. Adding more grinds to your brew on a morning you just cant seem to get going, or seeing a new type of bean, or seasonal blend and trying it on the fly. Those are the pleasurable changes to ones monotonous life.
I bought the biggest percolator of the three varieties the small shop held. It brewed about a cup of espresso at a time, and I loved puring the dark liquid out of the spout labeled “Love Espresso”. This was one of my favorite belongings, and today my clumsiness destroyed it. As I was working on a craft project, repainting my mailbox, I had put the percolator on the stove top to brew. Distracted by a phone call I left the defenseless artifact alone and forgotten. As I chatted away the water boiled out and left the metal contraption to take all of the heat. The plastic parts were the first to go. The handle melted off, and the little heart shaped window on the top dissolved into the burning cup that had held so many great cups of coffee. Even after the plastic was gone the metal continued to bear the unrelenting brunt of the heat from the ceramic element. All the while I am outside talking on the phone. By the time I smelled the trouble it was too late. The bottom of the percolator was burned and the coffee that had been trapped inside was reduced to its most compact carbon form. There was nothing left to salvage, the once glorious and proud, yet simple, espresso machine had melted. Until I make it back to Italy I will have to make my coffee the American way, and mourn my small machine, and how it loved espresso as much as I do.

