Under Pressure

A morning without coffee is like....the Pacific Northwest without rain. Oh, that was bad. I've never been good at analogies. I think I'm better at saying what I mean, plain and simple, such as: I want coffee. I need coffee. Without coffee, my standard level of functioning plummets. There's no way I would have survived through law school without it.

As I have mentioned at least once before on clatter, I am a proud former Peet's Coffee barista (picture me throwing up my Peetnik for Life gang sign). I like to think with such credentials to my name, I have a decent palate when it comes to coffee. You may recall that I once praised Starbucks Via instant coffee, but please note that instant coffee is typically, for lack of a better cliché, not my cup of tea. I like the good, strong stuff - not the watered-down kind you might find at your parents' church or a 24-hour Denny's. If it doesn't make me jittery, I'm not interested.

Last month when I visited my boyfriend in Chicago, he served me one superb cup of coffee in his home. Don't think I'm saying such things because I happen to have warm and fuzzy feelings for the barista; it truly was one of the best homemade cups of coffee I had ever had. Of course as I sipped away, I wondered why it tasted so much better than the coffee I make at home. Was it the Intelligentsia coffee beans he brewed? Or the fluffy milk made from his fancy Bodum frother (I use the $2 one from Ikea)? Could it have been the Burgerville mug he served it in? Or was it the method he used to make the coffee? At first I thought he was merely using technology's latest model of the French press, but I was sorely mistaken. This was no French press. This, my friends, was the AeroPress. He swore by the thing, and I quickly considered whether I should do the same.

I suppose it was only natural after my heavenly coffee experience in Chicago that I would need to attempt it myself. Either out of pure kindness or a gentle hint that the coffee made in my apartment is crap (despite his insistence that it's not), he purchased my very own AeroPress over the weekend. This morning before work, I tried it out for the first time. What better way to make Monday morning a little less painful than a deliciously executed cup o' joe? I read the directions ahead of time, and then I began to take action - grinding the illy beans extra fine, boiling water, figuring out what piece goes where, etc. As I added the ground beans, poured the hot water into the chamber, secured the rubber sealed plunger on top and began to apply the "gentle pressure" indicated on the directions, I suddenly realized I forgot a step. I didn't stir the coffee grounds in the water! That's ok, I thought, I'll just stop applying the pressure, remove the plunger from the chamber and stir before continuing. No problem, right? Wrong. Big mistake. Huge.

Take it from me: you don't want to anger the AeroPress. Do it wrong and it will turn on you. Just consider the science behind the AeroPress. Pressing the plunger inside the chamber creates enough air pressure to transform coffee grounds and water into crazy good espresso. If it takes energy on your part to press down the plunger because of the created pressure, it will take energy to pull the plunger up and out of the chamber because of the tight fit. Except that you really shouldn't be doing that at all, because you'll end up being more forceful with the thing than you should until you release the demons and get burned by the AeroPress - both figuratively and literally. That's right - it happened. In my defense, I never claimed to be anything more than a walking disaster.

Have you seen that commercial where a father and daughter conduct a volcano science experiment in the kitchen that goes awry, but then the mom saves the day with her miracle cleaning product? What happened to me this morning came close to art imitating life. Imagine a mini explosive full of coffee grounds and hot water suddenly detonating in a small Portland apartment in front of an unsuspecting girl. Now imagine the chaos that ensues in the aftermath. There is screaming. There is swearing. There is a white shirt. Why does she need the effects of caffeine in the morning when there's an AeroPress explosion to wake her up with one single jolt?

Once I recovered (well, sorta - my left hand burned from the hot water for at least an hour afterwards and my mom never showed up with her miracle cleaning product), I tried the process again. If there's one thing I'm not, it's a quitter. And I sure am glad I'm not. What came next after following the written instructions perfectly was the smoothiest, most flavorful homemade coffee I've had since that cup in Chicago.

Maybe the AeroPress and I didn't become instant friends, but I can say with a great amount of certainty that we are now. I can't wait to bond with it again tomorrow morning. You better believe I'll never forget to stir again before securing the plunger in the chamber! But I might wear black tomorrow just to be safe.