Saturday, November 01, 2008

Adventures With Expresso

Don't get me wrong, buying that $100+ coffee and expresso maker for only $17 was definitely worth it. But we'll need to practice a lot before it actually becomes useful. I'm currently in possession of the persnickety machine due to our custody sharing arrangement - Kyle and I decided that I would take it back with me to assist with papers due before Thanksgiving, and then over the break I would give it back to him for grading and recommendation letter writing season. Since Kyle did most of the initial experimenting, he was kind enough to dictate detailed directions that I could take with me. Too bad I suck at following directions. The first (and so far only) time that I attempted to use the coffee and expresso maker I managed to mess up most of them. I'm willing to blame some of my problems on poor scheduling, however; why on earth did I think that trying to figure out the coffee and expresso maker utterly exhausted at three in the morning would be safer and less time consuming than driving to 7-11? Poor planning Jillian, poor planning.

Here is a step by step summary of the disaster:

1. Step one is to pour water into the top compartment, making sure that the steam vent is closed. I forgot about the second part, which meant I essentially poured water through the machine and onto the counter.

2. After closing the steam vent I poured more water into the top. Apparently in my frustration I overpoured and some of the water splashed up and onto a different part of the counter.

3. I then loaded the expresso grounds. Of course I made a slight mess with them but honestly it was better than I thought it would be given the way things were going. And the trash can will smell better with a dusting of expresso around the rim. I'm counting this step as a success.

4. I checked and double checked the confusingly labeled dials until I was reasonably sure they were right. It was only at this point that I realized that the maker wasn't even turned on. I fruitlessly searched for a second power button or a safety switch or something else that I might have overlooked. I also cursed myself for starting this process at an hour when I couldn't call Kyle for assistance. Finally I decided to try a different outlet: problem solved. I had no idea that an outlet in our kitchen didn't work; apparently I never use the upright toaster.

5. As the machine churned out expresso I got the milk ready. Kyle had warned me to shut off the machine once it reached a certain level, because if I let it keep going the expresso would be very watered down. I kept what I thought was a close eye on the machine, but apparently in the time it took to vacillate over which mug to use the amount of expresso had jumped from 1.5 to 3.5 (the goal being 2). This did not bode well.

6. Soldiering on, I put the steamer attachment into my cup of milk. I was careful to fully submerge the end so that none of the milk would splash - at least I learned one lesson from Kyle's mishaps. Suddenly I heard a bloodcurdling scream, as if a cat or a high-pitched robot were being tortured. OH WAIT, that was the steamer. I tried to submerge it more or less or to the side but nothing made the horrible sound go away. I would have put up with it (note to self: buy earplugs) but I imagine Anna and my neighbors didn't want to hear it (and they definitely could have). I held on until the milk was slightly warm but it was definitely not fully steamed when I shut off the scream.

7. I then combined the watery expresso and lukewarm milk. Mmmmmmm, doesn't that sound good. Partly because I was apprehensive about tasting it and partly because Kyle's instructions emphasized quick cleaning to avoid stickiness, I decided to wipe down the machine first. I therefore had the pleasure of burning myself on the expresso holder right before I remembered the neat cover that could have protected me.

8. Not content with one injury, I proceeded to burn myself on the steamer attachment as well. I didn't even manage to get all of the residue off of it. Fingers crossed that the residue wasn't in fact my skin.

9. Then it was time to taste the creation that had caused me so much pain and frustration. I covered up the pale mud with a layer of whipped cream and took a sip. Yup, about as bad as I expected. But I needed caffeine, and I certainly wasn't going to try to make a new cup, so I forced myself to chug a good deal of it, helped along with liberal reapplications of whipped cream. No amount of determination could make me finish the whole cup though, and there will be no photo of me cheerily toasting to anything.

| posted at: 12:50 | permanent link and comments

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