DH left at an ungodly hour this morning for a conference in Brussels. He’s Eurostarring it and though overcast, hopefully there won’t be ‘the wrong kind of snow’ to fry their electrics. Since I’m alone tonight, I might have to ease away from Ghost Whisperer, since the episodes I watched last night actually freaked me out and I was so happy when David got home. Thankfully we’ve got our knit night tonight so that should keep the bogey man at bay! 😉
Our coffee machine is kaput. It doesn’t steam properly, and it doesn’t pull shots properly anymore. I’ll give it a thorough cleaning and see if it helps, but I think the reality is after 5 years it just might be time to lay her to rest. I have the pod machine from Illy, and having had coffee from Marja’s Nespresso machine I can see the advantages (and temptation) of having a super clean, super fast, crazy easy way of making yourself great tasting coffee…. but then I really enjoy creating great foamed milk, and the whole craft of making espresso based drinks so probably, ultimately would want a semi commercial machine with a commercial grade boiler to be able to steam a whole jug of milk in 10 seconds flat.
The thing is though – I also really enjoy going out to buy my coffees…. it isn’t so much that they taste better. In fact, I think the ones we were making when our machine was at its healthiest were the best I’ve tasted (rich, creamy, caramelly coffee). It is the ritual of it that I really enjoy. No matter where it is, there is always a sense of belonging, of instant comfort when I go to a place that sells takeaway coffees.
There is something so reassuring about going into a place, no matter where, and you know exactly what is expected, what do. I like waiting in line, decided what drink to order, the occassional pleasantries with others in line, placing my order, then watching the baristas pulling shots and steaming milk. And finally, that cup of steaming creamy looking joe and picking up a lid, and securing it onto my cup and walking off into the cold air with it. And that first sip – like a zen moment.
It’s not just the personal enjoyment – I really like going for coffee with friends, and somehow getting coffee with someone who isn’t getting coffee sort of dampens the joy. Weird. It’s like trying to spread the java joy, but only getting to butter half the toast. Very unsatisfying.
I used to love getting coffee in the mornings with a colleague – I’d get into work, ring my colleague, and we’d meet downstairs in the staff canteen for our morning joe. Every day. It was such a nice way to start the morning. We also did “Starbucks runs” where we’d go get everyone’s order and come back with the trays full of coffee. I don’t know why but it really puts a zing of joy into me. Kind of like the way the red Starbucks cups make me feel – joy in a cup. Literally! The drinks aren’t any different, but that red cup just raises the bar on the enjoyment factor.
So the upshot is, even if we pulled god shots every time we used our machine – I would still want to go out occasionally and indulge in the ritual of getting coffee. Speaking of which… I think it’s time to take Deuce for his morning ablutions… and for me to get a latte and a blueberry muffin!