Yeah we aren't Keurig people or French press people or espresso people--I do appreciate a good espresso though--and when it is just Hombre and me here we make pretty darn good coffee in our el cheapo Mr. Coffee maker. We replace it every two or three years as it will become decrepit and less efficient with regular use. We do use the removable, washable 'filter' and replace the little round disposable filters that cover that ever now and then.
When we have coffee drinking house guests though, we get out the old-fashioned 30-cup electric percolator and it really makes great coffee.
Yup! One of my favorite coffee makers:
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Supposedly percolating coffee is one of the worst ways to prepare it.
I don't believe it since I enjoy properly percolated coffee better than any other.
The coffee snobs hate percolators. Their loss.
Well I think folks who prefer other coffee makers aren't exactly snobs. But when they look down on my percolator and insist it is inferior to their Keurig or espresso machine, I'll go toe to toe with them on that.
Grandma's percolator fascinated me as a kid. A big two quart aluminum pot with a snap on lid that featured a little glass dome to watch the coffee brew. It made the goofiest noises, little burps as the Coffee spurted to the top and turned darker with every eruption.
Inside stood a basket on a tower. The water bubbled up from the base and splashed around the glass dome, finally trickling down through the tiny perforations on the top of the basket. Inside the basket Grandma would spoon in spoonful after spoonful of Maxwell House from a big blue tin can.
Mom and Pop preferred Eight O'Clock coffee custom ground from roasted beans at the A&P. I remember that store as having hardwood floors and the coffee aisle was the most aromatic. There was a big red coffee grinder that the customer filled from the top, pouring roasted beans from an aluminum foil lined bag. You would twist a dial that indicated the coarseness of desired grinds. Then you would place the bag from which the beans came under a chute and the grinder would do its magical, aroma drenched work. The ground coffee would be dumped back into the bag and you had to fold the top closed, securing,it with the metal clips attached to the ends.
Of course the A&P had canned coffee. Chock Full o' Nuts, Hills Brother's with the Arab sheik sipping a cup while wearing his curly toed slippers and flowing caftan, and Folger's. But Eight O'Clock had to be fresh ground at the store. Artesianal coffee in the early '60s.
You could even buy a new tube for your television set or radio at the A&P. They had a yellow kiosk with fifteen or twenty brown sockets mounted on top. You brought in the burned out tube, tried your luck placing it in the right socket, read the cryptic number printed along side the right fitting socket and then open the cabinet and find the same number on a little blue and white box. That was your new tune. All you had to do then was replace the burned out tube with the new complicated looking bulb, readjust the rabbit ear antennae, maybe wrap it with a little more tin foil and voila! Studio wrestling and Bowling for Dollars was back in your living room!
My fabled Uncle Ducky was a tube radio man up until his death in 1983. His array of radios amazed me. Of course turning a nine year old boy loose in Uncle Ducky's Hall of Wonders could be perilous. I pried the Masonite back from one of his radios to marvel at the glowing tubes inside. Hey! Look! A screwdriver! I wonder what that gizmo does?
A few sparks, a loud pop and the scent of ozone later and I found myself jolted across the room, landing squarely on my rear end with my back up against his bed.
Adults and children learned valuable lessons from that experience.
But, to the point, I like percolators too.