Every morning I make my coffee using the stovetop espresso coffee maker more widely used in Europe. I love the taste, flavor and ritual in using such a perfect little aluminum contraption, not relying on electricity or paper filters. I've probably been making my coffee this way for 15 years, and have learned to listen for the boil that lets me know that the brew is complete. (Not without a few boiled over pots, which happens when you forget the coffee is on) Mixed with a little milk, this is my morning ritual, enjoying a few quiet moments before the kids get up, or I have to walk the dog, or get ready for the day.
I have written about coffee before, and recently came to the revelation that coffee, to me, signifies more than just that essential morning kick-start. When I was younger, I remember my father bringing my mother her coffee in bed every morning. Him, being more a morning person than her, would wake earlier, start the coffee, and lovingly wake her with this morning ritual. This gesture certainly shaped me, as I view coffee, the drinking of it, the making of it, and the ritual of enjoying it, as nurturing- a comfort. When someone brings you coffee, makes you coffee- to me, they are taking care of you. Probably why I fell in love with someone who worked in a coffee shop!