The glass percolator was immediately dismissed by the spousal unit as the thought of cleaning up exploded glass shards without a vacuum was too frightening. The vintage espresso pot seemed the best choice at the time, so we filled that puppy up and set it on the gas-powered burner and waited for the elixir of life to bubble into existence. And waited, and waited, and waited. Ten minutes later we had enough espresso to fill three 3-oz. cups which were consumed in half the time it took to make them!
Quickly scrambling to make another pot, we discovered that the rubber gasket used to seal the innards of the pot had melted due to age and storage. Arrgh! Okie-dokie then. Next up was the French press which took less than five minutes to set up and steep to make three full-sized cups of lukewarm, weak, bitter coffee with an ample sludge appearing at the bottom of each cup (well, technically only two cups because Nic couldn’t make it to the bottom of his.)
The guys headed out to shovel snow as I cleaned up from our fully-caffeinated breakfast of crispy bacon, fried pepper frittata and jalapeno corn muffins, the whole while thinking of old adages about storm ports, gift horses and unexpected places. On that note; stay warm everyone!