I got an espresso machine. Katie got it for me. No, not Orr. Breshears. But when I think of coffee, I do think of sweet Miss Katie Ann Orr. B&N Café, the combination of the smell of steamed milk, espresso, the sound of the whoosh of a brew. Or Borders. Poor Borders. What would we have done without Borders in Winston? I don't even want to continue to contemplate it.
But, lo, because of Borders and Katie's job at the B&N Café through college, I LOVE COFFEE! It's a minor obsession. On the same day that I got my espresso machine, I got a french press for a $1. It's all MOPS fault. I picked it at our annual Rummage Sale.
To the point: I have learned two things. One: espresso is an art. If you do it wrong, it's gross. Two: french press is the opposite: it's simple -- (chunky ground) coffee, hot water, stir, press, enjoy. I can almost drink my coffee without cream and sugar. Almost. I think that if you do the french press just right, the coffee tastes almost creamy on it's own. Amazing.
The most fun though is that I get to play around with both. So cheers to good coffee and old friends.
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