I know, technically caffè translates to coffee, but for all intents and purposes, it means espresso.
Ryan bought a classic Italian coffee pot. It’s really kind of interesting. You put water in the bottom, espresso in the middle, and you stick the whole thing on the stove like a teapot. When the water boils, it comes up through the espresso, through a column in the center of the pot, and lands in the top half of the pot. When it’s ready, you just pour it into a cup. Ta-daaa! Espresso! He’s still perfecting the coffee itself . . . piano, piano. :)
So, I asked Ryan if he would take a picture of his coffee pot for me. He came back with a whole series of portraits of all of the coffee-making implements that we own. And I quote “I thought it might help to point out the irony of the fact that I still can’t figure out how to make a good cup of coffee.”
The problem isn’t so much the implements, the problem is that there are too many variables. There is the espresso machine that had a funny smelling gasket, the milk that’s not really milk (they store it unrefrigerated), the coffee – there are a million kinds of coffee (and apparently they taste different), and the water – which is loaded with calcium. Using the scientific method, one hypothesis at a time, Ryan is acquitting various coffee variables of their crimes . . . and hopefully getting closer to the perfect cup.
I just hope he figures it out before we leave – because he’s slowly getting me addicted, and it’ll be expensive to fly back here just for a cup of coffee.
Of course, it’s still possible to get a taste of home – clearly labeled, in big english letters, is the only type of regular drip coffee available in a never-ending aisle of espresso: