I’m a creature of simple desires and habits. Really. One of my more serious desires, covetings actually, if the truth be known, was to have my very own Krups machine. For those of you not in the know, a Krups is a combination regular coffee maker and espresso coffee maker. All in the one unit. A black, sensuous, blue lighted, serious piece of kitchen equipment. Made in Germany. Like the Mercedes Benz. Only better.
But it seemed like the height of extravagance and well, okay, downright decadence to get one. When I already had some coffee machines (I collected cheap ones like others collect tea spoons, okay? alright? stop that snorting at the back of the room, please) and a separate espresso machine. So what if their fluidic output fell far short of a Tim Horton’s or a Starbucks. Or that they leaked and couldn’t pour worth a damn. And did some strange things even to the best of coffee beans. Yeah, did I mention I grind my own? I do. I’m a very, very serious coffee aficionado. And I was brought up on tea and Irel and instant if we had coffee. Go figure that one out.
So I took the plunge, about two months ago. I did a web search on the model I wanted and found it in Quebec. And it was half price. And it only took five days to ship it to me.
And it has been a love affair ever since. Did you know a Krups comes with a built-in coffee measure? It does. Do you know neither of its pots’ spouts leak? Did you know the foam from its steamer is the highest? Ever?
I croon to it like a lover. Every morning. Every night. And without fail, it reminds me of all the good coffees I’ve ever shared. Everywhere. Paris. Toronto. Montreal. Chicago. Dublin. London.
Thank you, thank you Krups.
P.S. Mama loves you.
