How to enjoy a cup of coffee while honoring the memory of the Depression.

melitta coffee

So my husband, Mike, is a real sweetheart. He managed to solve two very real problems for me in one move. Problem one started when I realized that I cannot finish a carafe of coffee by myself. See, I’m the only coffee drinker in the house. Which, while making me a unique and brilliant snowflake among mere mortals, means I was routinely having to throw away a least one cup from the carafe because I can’t finish it before it loses it’s bloom. I was raised by southern people who remember the Great Depression. Throwing away “perfectly good food” is literally against my very genetic makeup.

Problem two started when I broke my coffee carafe. What was I going to do? Buy a replacement carafe and continue my shameful dumping of leftover coffee day after day? Well, Mike found one of these babies (pictured above) at our local Woodman’s and changed my life. It’s a one cup coffee brewer. Unlike my French press, which is hard to keep hot, this contraption brews a single, steaming serving into the included (very bistro looking) footed, black ceramic cup.

It’s mindlessly easy, neat and tidy. My grandmother would surely approve this message. I’d ask her personally if I wouldn’t then be forced to have a fifteen minute conversation in which I try to explain what a “blog” is. So you’ll just have to take my word for it.


Starling (2)

Starling 3

Starling 4

PS. I’m planning to pair tomorrow morning’s cuppa with this blueberry coffee cake. Yum!


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