This is my new espresso maker. Mister got it for me and it’s one of those gifts that I love as much as air.
It reminds me of my Granny Vera’s old stove-top coffee percolator. I remember her adding the water and the coffee to that dented metal device, and then waiting. It would just sit there, taking its sweet time. And then there was coffee. Once in a great while, she and Big Papa would let me have a little coffee at breakfast. The cup placed before me would run over into the saucer beneath, just like Papa’s. Only my magic elixir was mostly milk and sugar.
I’ve missed that percolator over the years. And while I could have gotten a brand new version, it was Granny’s beaten-up model that stood out in my mind. So when Mister got this Italian-made, shiny goo-gaw for me, I didn’t compare or complain. In fact, I’m so smitten with the danged thang, I’m wondering how I’ve managed to get along without it thus far. It’s fantastic.
Now mornings find me adding water and coffee to the smooth, silvery device, and waiting. It sits there, taking its sweet time. And then there is coffee. I fill my cup, add some half and half, and savor. Once in a great while, I’ll stir in a little sugar – for old times. So far, each batch has put me in mind of Granny and Papa. That alone is a tremendous gift and I’m incredibly grateful to Mister for bestowing that upon me. The coffee’s damned good, too.