Anyone who knows me knows I love coffee.
Let me rephrase that. Anyone who knows me knows I LOVE coffee!
I’ll be the first to admit that my love for coffee may not be the completely healthy kind, but rather the slightly obsessive, bordering on creepy, early signs of stalker kind of love.
Okay, I see that requires some explanation.
I like things that take some time and effort to get right. The perfect cup, the perfect shot, are not easy things to be grabbed off of a shelf: they need to be pursued, sought out, and perfected.
I am nowhere near perfecting any of these things, but I am thoroughly enjoying the quest.
Over the last 15 years or so, I’ve owned a number of espresso makers, drip pots and french presses. They’ve all worked to some degree, but I still haven’t reliably captured the Holy Grail, the Perfect Cup. I’m certain that the number of lattes I’ve made, just on my current machine, is getting awfully close to five figures. Some of them have been better than others, but they’ve been at least passable, and sometimes pretty darn good.
The problem is, I spend a lot of time away from home. I can’t take an espresso machine with me, and finding good coffee in airports is sketchy at best, and downright hopeless at worst. If you’ve ever had a latte that tasted sort of like coffee, but mostly like the barista’s hand lotion, you know what I mean.
So nowadays I’ve got some new-found energy, and have entered a renewed state of excitement and adventure.
These are my stories.