Froth it Up

There were a number of kitchen gadgets I coveted when making up the necessary bridal registry, among these: a microwave that costs more than thirty dollars (and so actually reheats food in a time frame similar to package instructions); a decent iron (the cheapest one that target makes, oddly enough, does not really function well at doing anything but melt perler beads together); a food processor (still in search of a good one); etc. More than anything, though, what I really wanted was a milk frother.

Oh sure, I had grandiose visions of a fancy espresso machine that did it all, including the froth, for a great cappuccino, but the good ones tote price tags lacking entirely in affordability. I looked all over for a registry-bearing store that sold an old-fashioned stove-top milk frother to no avail. Target was a bust, as was Penny's, which surprised me given the sheer number of useless kitchen inventions I find when walking through their housewares department. Nevertheless, my search was for nought until I happened to check the Williams Sonoma website. In general, I don't often shop at Williams Sonoma because, as a rule, they aim for a clientelle with a higher price-point than I ever intend to fork over (as in, even if I had the money for it, I wouldn't want to spend the exorbitant prices of WS, i.e. I'm cheap).

However, there was no denying the stupendousness of houseware options on their website. They did not have a cooktop milk frother, but they did have a handheld one. Just heat up the milk, plunk in the Aerolatte and poof--frothed milk.

The first night it came in the mail, I immediately heated up some milk to make a frothed hot chocolate (it also claims to make a mean milk shake). I think I tried to extract bubbles from its bubbleless surface longer than five minutes for what the directions indicated was more like a 10 second process. Still no froth. Then I noticed a line in the directions. Apparently skim milk doesn't froth.

My solution was to instruct the husband that I was in absolute need of 1%, which he purchased without too much fanfare. I frothed some up in a cup and added it to my coffee. It looked like this:

Not too frothy, but at least it frothed. Then, the bubbles started disintegrating before I could even take a sip, which is when I had two revelations:

1. I forgot to heat the milk first and
2. I really don't like cow's milk anyway.

I took some almond milk out of the cupboard and put it in the fridge. When it came time for cappuccino, I heated up a bit of almond goodness occupying the very bottom of a drinking glass. Then, I frothed it right up to the top, added it to a half mug of coffee, and sprinkled on the cinnamon.

Here is a trendy coffee franchise cappuccino without the risk of having its employees, who have no idea how to make a decent coffee, destroy said cappuccino with grounds, burnt coffee, or pathetic foam. And with the delicate taste of almond milk replacing its weaker cow-based cousin.

I am the queen barrista of my own kitchen.