Only good java allowed
Without hyperbole, bad coffee is just plain wrong. We’ve returned from close to a month of access to our personal espresso world. Conclusion: in a proper universe, only good java would be allowed.
We began, years ago, as the people with a Melitta plastic filter holder and a bag of cheap ground from the local grocery. With the paper filters in the wrong size, of course. Add water that wasn’t particularly hot, and you can see where we ended up. Bad joe.
We next bundled a Bodum. One cup at a time, with hotter water, and the liquid was close to acceptable, particularly the one time we paid for better quality ground beans instead of the vacuum-sealed bricks that should be relegated to foundations. Far underground. Away from humans. But, I promised to avoid hyperbole.
Between two summers, the family splurged and equipped our kitchen with a proper espresso machine. Mr. Saeco, you make good coffee. The machine replaced our drip maker, the unused bottle of instant coffee not coffee, the Kitkat bars, the cappuchino flavoured icecream. Real coffee, especially after we found what kind of bean we preferred (Costa Rica Tarrazu) at Tatum in the old city. Ground one notch less fine than espresso. In kilogram quantities. Not picky, just clear in what works.
The return to camping was aided when we found a pair of “push-cups” at the scouting supply store, and agreed to use good beans. This summer, we fell short; another brick in the wall. By the end of three weeks, we actively sought out Timmy’s, even though it required a car ride to another part of the province.
That’s all over now. We have used up the last of the camping supply (as ballast in the green dumpster) and brought a new bag of ground up from the freezer. Equilibrium has been restored to the universe.
