======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
If you had a camera crew on me (not that you’d want one, I’m just saying hypothetically) while I’m getting ready for work, you’d find that my routine is fairly regimental. I like to wake up around 6:45, take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and then be out the door by 7:20ish.
On nights before work, I’ll have my coffee pot already set up with a fresh filter and a few hearty scoops of Cafe Bustelo. I’ll put enough water in there for about 5 cups, which fills my thermos to the very top and keeps me satiated through the early hours of the day.
It’s on an automatic timer, so while I’m dragging my ass out of bed and getting myself clean for another brutal day in the cubes, I can smell coffee being made in the kitchen. It’s comforting to hear that steady drip from machine into pot, steam steadily rising as glorious bean water drops. It’s fast, it’s wonderfully efficient, and most importantly it’s easy. I don’t even think about how my coffee is getting made in the morning, I just know that it’s going to be ready when I need to be out the door.
On the weekend it’s a bit different. I’m rising around 8:00 a.m. (unless I’ve had a very long night out) and I don’t take a shower right away. I’ll turn the stereo up a few notches higher than it needs to go and let John Mayer sing sweet nothings into my ear. I might go check my mailbox. And then, just before I get a few eggs out to fry up I’m grabbing my French press.
I keep it out on the counter next to the stove at all times, but it’s a piece of equipment that doesn’t see action Monday through Friday.
Making French pressed coffee is a ritual I reserve exclusively for Saturdays and Sundays when I’m not feeling like walking to a bagel shop. While daunting at first, you’ll soon realize that it’s quite easy. All you need is a bag of unground beans, a grinder, some water, a kettle, and of course a French press.
No disrespect to Folgers, Maxwell House, or Cafe Bustelo (because I love all three of those brands with my whole heart) but like I said before – this is a ritual, and it’s one that I like to partake in with high-end coffee beans.
Take a gander through your local grocery store and see what they have – there’s usually a massive selection of fine Ethiopian, Indonesian, American, and Colombian beans to choose from. It’s all about personal preference, though. I like something with a little extra kick in it on a Saturday morning so I almost always go with an Ethiopian bean.
Get the John Mayer cranked up. I recommend something from his “Live in L.A.” show. Turn your coffee grinder on and get 10-11 tablespoons worth of beans in there. “It’s all about the grind, Sizemore. Not too fine, not too course.” If you’re a fan of the movie Black Hawk Down, you’ll understand what I’m talking about.
If not, maybe skip the first few hours of college football and watch that instead. Once you’ve got the beans ground up, you’ll need about 30 ounces of boiling water. This will get you 2 to 3 cups of strong ass coffee and I promise it’s more than enough to satisfy you. Stir the mixture until all of the grounds are fully saturated and let that shit steep for about three minutes. Press the plunger down on the filter and voila – you’ve got Saturday (or Sunday) morning coffee.
I’m not saying that French press coffee is any better than coffee made out of a modern day machine. I use better beans on the weekend than I do during the workweek so it is, objectively better, but it really isn’t about the quality of the coffee.
I just find that it’s a really nice activity to wake up to on a Saturday morning. I’ve used the French press to brew Folgers before and it’s been equally as fun as times when I’ve used Ethiopian Yirgacheffe that cost 25 bucks for 12 ounces.
It really isn’t about the coffee. It never has been. It’s about the ritual. It’s about the preparation that goes into making it with two whole days to do whatever the hell you want that makes it so fun and fulfilling. There’s a weird feeling of accomplishment that comes with completing a batch of French press. You can sit back and say “There. I did something today.” Hope you’ll take my word for it. Enjoy the day..
Image via Unsplash
Respond
jduda@grandex.co
On weekends, my dad likes to make layered coffees with his espresso machine. He starts with grinding the beans and everything. Sometimes he tries to make art in the foam for me. No man will ever love me like he does, and it makes weekends spent with him all the more special.
I really like a Saturday morning walk to get coffee and a bagel, especially while the weather’s still pleasant. Keeps me from lounging too long and becoming lethargic, and it’s a wonderful breakfast and opportunity to think about how I want to spend my day.
I appreciate the use of an old school coffee machine. The Keurig has all but killed perpetuating that selfish ‘Me’ society we live in currently. There’s just something about the full pot that is romantic. The aroma filling the air, the morning light seeping into the kitchen reflecting through the steam rising off of the first poured cup. The quiet shuffle of people beginning to stir, shaking the last bit of sleep from their eyes. The coffee pot is communal and brings everyone back to life in the morning in the best and warmest way possible.
Maybe I’m a psycho but I’ve started using my French press 7 days a week. Need to take the joy where I can get it,
Live in LA is my jam!
The coffee ritual is one of my favorite parts of the weekends. Toss in a little Chemex action to the mix and you’ve got it made.
“It really isn’t about the coffee.”
That’s like saying, “It’s not about the blow job, it’s about cumming.” I suppose all your blow jobs have been the same. Lame.