A (tiny) cup of really good coffee

I enjoy a cup of espresso from my Bialetti Moka Express
while making breakfast.

Travel has given me many things. One is an appreciation for uno cafe solo — as I learned it in Spain from the man at the concession booth at the soccer field -- Espresso. 

I’d had it before, but even French cafe pales to Spain’s. No matter where we went, we got good coffee. Yes, even at a soccer field where fountain drinks and french fries ruled.

Let me amend that. I got good coffee. Many in our group are used to American coffee with cream (milk), sugar, flavors, whipped topping and the like. Good coffee is a shot of espresso served in a tiny cup with a packet of sugar that goes unused by me and many others. There is no room for milk. And why mess with perfection? It’s beautifully balanced, a rich bitterness, piping hot. Most in our group didn't appreciate it. 

But I did.

Coming back from Europe is a coffee disappointment. You can’t get good espresso in the States. Oh, you can order it, but it won’t be the same.

I stopped at a coffee shop where they had espresso on the menu. When I ordered it, the barista questioned whether I really wanted it. You just want that tiny cup of coffee? It will be so bitter, she said. I assured her that I did, in fact, want just the tiny cup of bitter-tasting coffee.

I should have known it would not be good, when she kept calling it “expresso” with an X, even though I pronounced it with the S several times.

Some other espresso lovers in the family have decided that European coffee is better, because it’s hotter and the machines are under more pressure because of the electrical set up there. It would make sense that if you have more juice running through your wires, you can build up more pressure. And that makes a better cup of espresso.

For many years, I made my own cappuccinos at home with a Mr. Coffee machine. It worked well, but to just have the espresso out of it was disappointing.

After one trip to Europe, my husband researched another option and ordered me a Bialetti coffee pot. It’s tiny, but it is a 3 cup model. The cup, of course, is the espresso-size cup. This particular model is called the Moka Express. 

I have been using it virtually every day that I have been staying at a friend’s. 

I grind whole bean espresso roast coffee at the finest setting. The beans are dark and aromatic. I love smelling them as I fill the grinder. 

I fill the base of the Bialetti half full of water, for a cup and a half of espresso. I guess that’s more than uno cafe solo, but that’s about the extent of my Spanish. 

Screw the top on, and pop it on the stove top until you hear it percolate. Voila! Espresso, or as close to it as you can get here. 

I will forgive my little machine for being called a Moka Express. I think it’s more about speed than style. Either way, it makes a good cup of coffee.