It’s so hard to get up in the morning sometimes. But the minute I think about making my first cup of coffee for the day, I suddenly have a spring in my step. Even though I must go through the paces of making it in our beloved percolator that Jacqueline found at a thrift store.
With a 6-ounce cup, I schlep to the bottled water dispenser in the mud room to pour two full cups plus less than half a cup into the tall shiny stainless-steel pot. Next, I grab the Don Francisco tin of coffee grounds from the pantry/broom closet and measure three rounded tablespoons and pour them into the coffee ground basket (the beans are ground for French press). Just holding the coffee tin sends nostalgic energy through my veins.
Before I put the lid on, I shake the basket a bit to be sure the grounds are evenly spread out. I make sure to place the basket lid first before fitting tight the percolator’s glass-nob lid. I then position the strength dial between Medium and Strong. The very last step is plugging in the electrical cord because the percolating commences almost immediately (there is no on/off switch).
The strength dial works like magic. My morning coffee has the boldness I want because I add hot almond milk. In the afternoon I drink it black, so I dial it down to Medium. Hearing my coffee percolate is music to my ears, not to mention its aroma wafting through the kitchen.
What I love most of all is that I use the same two-and-a-half tablespoon measurement each and every time. (If I were to use the recommended two-tablespoon measure per 6-ounce cup, I would be bouncing off the walls – or running to the loo.)
Our coffee-loving neighbor Derek was fascinated when I explained how the percolator works. So much so that I ran into the house to get it in order to show-and-tell as we social-distanced outside at the fence. He proposed that one day we should do a blind tasting of percolator versus the French press –- outside at our lawn tables, of course, at least six feet apart – wearing bathrobes and slippers.