My coffee dilemma
Teaching an old dog a new trick!
This weekend, I finally learned how to operate my son-in-law's coffee pot. It's one of those fancy rigs that makes one gourmet cup at a time.
The first night I stayed with them, my daughter set it up for me, so it would be all ready to go on Saturday morning. She put a little cartridge of coffee in one compartment and poured a cup of water in another compartment.
"Tomorrow morning, all you have to do is 1) plug in the pot, 2) close the first lid, which pierces the coffee cartridge, 3) close the second lid, which holds the water, and 4) push the "brew" button," said my thoroughly modern daughter.
How much more simple could it get?
On Saturday morning, I arise at my usual hour of five o'clock, about three hours before the young ones. Trying to make as little noise as possible, I creep into the kitchen to make my first cuppa coffee.
Step one--plug in the pot. Step two--close lid one. Step three--close lid two. Step four--push the "brew" button.
Nothing. I put my ear to the pot and listen. Not a sound. No lights, no reassuring sound of water churning. No pleasant odor of coffee gently brewing. No lights to indicate that the state-of-the-art creature is alive. It just sits there, looking all silver and sleek, sneering at me. I don't dare touch it.
Another three hours to wait for coffee. I reminisce about the old glass percolators that we used to have. I would get the pot ready the night before, set it on the stove, and go to bed. In the morning, all I had to do was turn the burner on. Within ten or fifteen minutes, I would have a whole pot of hot, dark coffee--the nectar of the gods! Only one step was involved--turn on the burner.
As I sit in the dim, early-morning light of my daughter's living room, watching her two cats stare at me, I long for my coffee. I consider making a cup of hot tea, but I'm sure the clatter will wake them up. I settle myself on the sofa to read a Medieval murder mystery on my new Nook, only to discover that the battery is down, and I have forgotten to bring the charger.
Drat! No choice but to fire up the laptop computer and cruise Facebook.
I sit in the near darkness and contemplate my technological sins. A child of the sixties, I cling tenuously to the age of Keurig coffee pots, cell phones, and laptop computers. As soon as I master a vital new piece of technology, it becomes obsolete, and I'm left without the old, familiar resources of the past. I remember the last time I tried to find a replacement piece for my glass percolator. I felt such sadness, when I realized they were gone.
My daughter arises about eight, and we analyze the coffee pot dilemma. Her husband, ever the gadget freak, points out that we have omitted a step. Oh, great. Turns out that there are five--not four steps--involved in bringing a Keurig to life.
On Sunday morning--Mother's Day--I finally get it right. Step one--plug in the pot. Step two--push the power button. Step three--close lid one. Step four--close lid two. Step five--push the "brew" button, which should be blinking reassuringly at that point.
Ah...my reward--a cup of coffee so strong that it makes my eyes water.
I must include step six: Add water, which, of course, necessitates step seven--reheat in microwave.
I wonder if I could find an old glass percolator in the basement?
Comments
- -- Posted by bobma2000 on Thu, May 16, 2013, at 6:32 PM
- -- Posted by goat lady on Tue, May 28, 2013, at 8:32 PM
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