Coffee

It's morning, again. They crop up regularly but always catching me unawares. As I force myself out of bed, don a dressing gown and stagger downstairs there is only one thing that makes it worth while; coffee! There is a large lump of stainless steel lurking dark in the corner of the kitchen. Not the oven, not the microwave nor the kitchen sink - the coffee machine. It's pretty basic, 3 litre tank, 2.3 litre boiler and almost 3kW of power. Five minutes to heat the water in the boiler and a further fifteen  for the rest of the machine to come to temperature.
Making coffee is a performance art. An art I haven't quite mastered. Oh I can grind beans to powder, fill a portafilter and microfoam milk - but this barista cappuccino graphic is just beyond me. I've watched YouTube vids, read articles and carefully watched the masters at work. But pouring a heart, concentric forms, clever animals ..... fail! But, quite frankly, my dear, who gives a damn. What we are really about here is beans groaning as they are milled to fine powder, six ounces of steel tamping that dust to a compressed puck, the military precision with which portafilter engages the group head and the aroma of fresh coffee that permeates the air as near boiling water is forced through that puck at 12psi into the waiting cup below. Ahhh crema, syrupy brown foam guarding bitter delights below. Capucino art be dammed, quadruple espresso kick starts my day!