Reverent Beans
Morning routines have the sort of predictable cyclicity that borders on religion. Something about a daily ritual of coffee, bagels and quiet solitude invokes thoughts of prayer. When I moved into my college house junior year with my three best friends, one brought her espresso maker. The MICHELANGELO 15 Bar Espresso Machine with Milk Frother. It has changed my life. Dragging myself downstairs to make breakfast every morning is now completely motivated by the knowledge that Michelangelo is awaiting me. Emptying the previously brewed beans, refilling the water, packing new beans and pressing the 2 shot button has the sort of performative method to it that is practically confessional. It has become a sort of love language of mine. A roommate is under the weather or sad about a boy? I shall brew her a coffee. A day went poorly for me and life is getting me down? Let me make myself a coffee. It astounds me that such a mundane (it feels sinful to call it that) object could have touched...