If I were ever held hostage by aliens, terrorists, bank robbers, or home invaders, I would cave immediately. Simply withhold my coffee and I will tell them anything they want to know. I will even make up stuff that is completely untrue and irrelevant. Don't entrust me with your secrets. Never give me a security clearance. I will tell all in order to get that cup of dark, hot brew.
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| It's a classic. And yes, I really was up at 5:46 a.m. |
In preparation for my big trip across the USA, the first thing on my packing list was coffee. I am a French Press purist. Griffin even bought me a mini French Press to take with me when traveling. For camping however, I didn't want to pack and haul glass, so I purchased this classic red beauty. It even matches the splatter ware I picked up last year from the community thrift shop. I may not be a camping pro, but there is no reason why I should not look like one.
Being the practical soul I am, it was imperative to practice using the pot before I was shivering and desperate for that first cup in the morning, in a national park campsite somewhere out west.
First step: Google it.
Wow, people really hate percolators. There were plenty of articles and YouTube videos to be found, and most of them were scathing diatribes on the bitterness of percolator coffee.
As a control, I started with the same water to coffee ground ratio as always.
Next, wait for the water to start rising through the tube in the percolator and it will pop into the glass knob on the top and fall back through the basket, dripping through the coffee grounds.
Online instructions varied on how long this process should be allowed to go on, with three minutes as the maximum. My memory banks kicked out something about my mother always letting the coffee brew for 2 minutes.
It is insanely hot! First of all, the brew has just come off the burner and is not the result of leisurely drops of water slowly meandering their way through the grounds. Secondly, it has been poured into a thin metal camping cup.
The results: rounded flavor, not bitter, but a little weak. Griffin's response was the same.
It was time for a second round, so I cleaned out the pot in preparation for another. Upon opening the basket to empty the grounds, it appeared that some of the grounds were still dry.
For the next batch, I doubled the amount of grounds and extended the perc time to three minutes.
Results of round #2: Dang. Still not soaking all of the grounds. So, of course it is no stronger.
Maybe it is time to reconsider the French Press.
Today's tune
The Four Seasons, Spring, Movement Three, Allegro Pastorale – Antonio Vivaldi
Today's Gratitude
the French Press, of course
hearing the morning birds
Having the laundry room on the first floor beats the crap out of doing laundry in my former basement, known as the Pit of Despair.
Griffin, always
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