A Really Good Espresso

There is yet another birthday-related loose-end I have yet to tie up. My official birthday present from the boys and myself: my very own espresso machine, plus a bright orange miniature cup and saucer with which to use in it.

All of this came from the 60 percent off clearance table at Tuesday Morning. We  saw the espresso machine at that particular store on a different day but with a much higher price tag, and after the husband did some internet research to make sure the company and model would make a good cuppa joe, we went back out to the same store expecting to pay a lot more money. Then, there it was, sitting there at 60 percent off. The cheapskate in me (which is a substantial portion of my personality) swelled with happiness.

What's more, true to the research, the machine does a good job. To make my first home-brewed espresso, I used grounds from the Gevelia espresso blend. Gevelia is my almost-exclusive brand for coffee. Their grounds never make a burnt coffee and always has a smooth taste.

I'm not a big fan of plain black Cafe Americano. I don't really enjoy coffee by itself. However, adding milk to plain coffee in the American sense, it's a bit watered down. Thus, up to now, unless I paid the price for a coffeehouse beverage, I had to mix my beloved Gevelia Chocolate Mocha coffee with a vanillla creamer (and this is still what I do at work) to create a coffee with a flavor I enjoy drinking.

My real coffee love, though, is the cappuccino, which pairs frothy milk with a bold espresso, allowing me to taste both flavors in equal measure. Now, for the first time in my life, I can make it at home. What's more, I can use the milk froth function on the espresso machine to make my son foamy hot chocolate, which is an added bonus we both enjoy.

Cheers.

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.