Ode To A French Press

I have something to confess.

I do a lot of confessing on this here little blog. So what’s one more?

Ok. Here goes.

My coffee snobbery has gone up a level.

I know.

Like 4 months ago I didn’t drink coffee at all and now I’m a coffee snob.


But this time it wasn’t my fault. I swear that’s the truth! I was just minding my own business making my coffee in a coffee maker thinking I was living the good life. I wasn’t looking for this, I didn’t ask for it.

But then, my coffee maker broke.


See? It wasn’t my fault.

And we had a french press in the cupboard. It was a Christmas gift to Hubby (not from me) who swore up and down that he wanted one really badly, but he hardly ever used it.

Again, not my doing.


I just wanted coffee. How was I to know that the french press was going to take it to an entirely new level? How was I to know that by taking that first sip from my cup, that first morning I made it in the press, it was going to forever change my way of thinking about coffee?

I wasn’t to know.

And it’s bad. Because I go to people’s houses and they offer me coffee, but I’m a horrible snob! I have my original snobbery because I buy whole bean, Canadian roasted, organic, fair trade coffee that is to die for, while other people buy bottom shelf coffee that was ground about 20 years ago and I’m not even sure if it’s made with real beans to tell the truth. I can safely say the taste difference is enough to give you whiplash. But on top of that most normal people make it in a maker. And then there I am trying desperately to gulp this sludge down, and keep it down, all the while thinking I need to have them over for coffee and show them the light.


Plus with a french press you don’t have to buy filters, you don’t have to worry that you forgot to turn the coffee maker off when you left for work, the beans have a chance to steep to their full potential (which is what you want when you’re paying the price I pay for coffee!), you have more control over the temperature, and it just makes a dang good cup of coffee. It’s not even about taste at this point. It’s about enjoying the coffee. Feeling it in my mouth, the hints of chocolate, or earthy tones, or slight hint of fruity flavour – depending on what type of coffee I’m brewing – enhanced with a touch of raw honey and the creaminess of fresh goats’ milk if desired. It’s a truly personal thing.

And you can’t tell me that your favorite experience comes from a who knows how old can of coffee, made in a drip maker, smothered with white sugar and powdered creamer. You just can’t. However you aren’t as bad as those instant coffee drinkers. I can’t even look at the stuff in the grocery store. How do you even make it? Do you just stir those weird globs into hot water? I don’t even know!

Once you find the true black gold you’ll never go back, and that’s not my fault. That’s just good sense.

And amen.


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