Our grind-, brew- and-drink-your-coffee maker went last Friday after years of faithful brewing.
Like all things, there is a time under heaven — the Cuisinart gave up the ghost, bought the farm, and kicked the bucket, grinding, brewing, and dripping its last drop with a leak and sputter.
We pulled the plug, said our final ta-tas and gave old faithful a decent burial by putting the lid on it’s final chapter in the recycling bin
Bob and I sipped the last drops of coffee as we contemplated our next move and the choices for another machine.
“Another Cuisinart?” we thought as we slowly sipped the golden brew. No, too many parts and a lot of work.
A stainless steel brewer that matched the decor of the kitchen but with less parts? Possibly.
As our cups emptied and so our options we simultaneously blurted out: “Aha! The old Mr. Coffee!” But no. It never made the coffee hot enough and it had had its day.
The final option was — dare I say it — a Keurig. One of those newfangled single-cup machines that brewed your choice from a little pod.
Our tastes vary, and some days we need a strong roast and others a smoother, not kick you in the pants blend of the magic elixir. A Keurig did seem to fit the bill, but not the budget.
Bob was the lucky one — he went to work. There, amid the noise and hustle of a day’s employment would be plenty of places to get a jolt of joe, but I was home, where no drop existed.
I awoke bereft.
Lo a miracle occurred — I had a vision. Maybe it was the lack of caffeine, maybe it was the desperation, but the shimmering, shining image of the electric Farberware percolator that my mother-in-law bought us eons ago came into view.
“Where was it and how long would it take me to find it?” I thought.
My quest began.
Slowly, with the care of Mary Leakey, I began to remove the layers of dishes, cups, saucers, and unused demitasse sets that hid the bits and pieces of the relic Farberware.
You know the type — it existed in the dark ages, before Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts — the renaissance of the grind-, brew-, and drink-your-coffee-maker era.
Aha! I found the pot in seconds. But alas, no lid, and the basket, cover, and stem were missing.
The quest continued. I toiled and dug. Slowly each piece emerged. The lid behind the mixer in the closet; the basket and basket cover found in the pot draw, and the stem found in the utensil draw — where else?
It was complete. Almost. The electric cord — the lifeline — was still buried.
Panicking, almost at the end of my strength I found it. There, nestled among the lost wires and connectors languishing in limbo.
The cup of coffee was at hand.
Like the Man of La Mancha I had summoned my last bit of courage, I beat the unbeatable foe, I had reached the unreachable star, and perked my morning Joe.
Not for Nuthin™ but nothing tastes as good as a mug of hot French roast after a long, hard quest.
