Coffee Choler

Campers, you may have noticed that my irritability disease is back. With a vengeance.

I am hard-pressed to identify the cause of this return to peevishness. I have been an extremely good girl where gluten is concerned, having lapsed not at all (to my knowledge, anyway) since December's Jordan Almond Episode. There is the possibility, I suppose, that my new favorite snack of all time - chocolate-covered dates - contains glucose derived from wheat: my favorite New Jersey nut shop is silent on the ingredients contained within these Easter-egg shaped morsels, leading me to believe they may have something to hide. Or perhaps my snappishness has nothing to do with gluten at all and is merely a response to the stressful times in which we live. Either way, I am feeling decidedly grumpy at the moment.

The latest object of my ire is coffee machines.

We need a new one.

I have implied, but not stated outright, the importance of coffee to my physical well-being. Unlike tea, which stimulates brain activity throughout the day whilst simultaneously soothing the soul and calming the nerves, coffee is a medicinal requirement first thing in the morning and at about three o'clock in the afternoon. If either of these appointments is missed, I go into the sort of downward spiral that makes other people keep their distance (which is fine with me, frankly). When I've taken my prescribed java, I am sweetness and light. If I accidentally miss a dose, watch out.

In the afternoon, it's easy. A cafetiere stands at attention, ready to do my bidding. After a number of near-fatal experiences with incorrectly-calculated concentrations, I experimented at length and now have the glass carafe clearly marked with indelible black Sharpied lines showing the number of scoops of Sumatra Mandheling required for various volumetric measures of water. This works a treat and allows me access to the life-giving elixir in a safe and timely fashion.

Mornings are a different matter. In the mornings, there is considerably more urgency. When I stumble bleary-eyed down the stairs at 4:45 sharp, the coffee must be ready, waiting, and very very hot else there will be hell to pay. For this reason, I need a programmable machine that can be set to go the night before. Indeed, the cheerful little buzzer that sounds the alarm when it's java time serves as a nifty signal that it's time to get out of bed and face the proverbial day.

Unfortunately, there is a wrinkle in even these best-laid plans. Due to circumstances beyond my control (namely, our water is so mineral-laden that coffee machines last a maximum of six months - no vinegar, de-scaler, or industrial cleanser has yet proved equal to the task, and the current machine's insides are totally furred up) I am now having to set the timer for 4:15 so the coffee is ready on time. The brew trickles through the filter so slowly that the first drops burn instantly when they hit the hot plate and then promptly chill down to tepidness in the ensuing half hour (particularly if the kitchen is cold, which it often is this time of year). The result is heartbreak: a lukewarm burned-tasting beverage that satisfies neither man nor beast. I may need my joe for fuel rather than flavor, but there are limits to which even I refuse to go in search of my fix.

Beyond a programmable 'on' switch, I need nothing fancy in my coffee pot - a twelve-cup capacity is my only additional requirement. Also, it mustn't be too expensive: at the rate we go through 'em, price is definitely an issue. So I set out yesterday, having put aside an hour-and-a-half or so to run some errands, among which was the acquisition of a new device for mud manufacturing.

Rarely have I spent so much time, effort, and shoe leather trying to carry out what should be a relatively simple purchase.

A lot has changed in coffee-making technology in the last six months. Or I should say, in the marketing of coffee-making technology. I had not previously noticed, but those crazy one-cup pod deals are taking over the world! I visited five esteemed retailers (all regional or national chains) seeking a simple machine that met my requirements (see above) and discovered that such a thing has become quite hard to find.

Since when did the pod people get such a foothold in the marketplace? I can see no earthly reason for the popularity of this latest craze. At the risk of alienating any fans among my readership - and as a public service to the rest of you - I have taken the trouble to catalogue the grievous inadequacies of these appliances:

• They limit the kind of coffee you can make. I don't care that they offer 200+ varieties: I want what I want, and no amount of kitchen-counter display trickery will change my mind. And anyway, it's a bit like cable TV: I would estimate that 98% of these brews are suspect. Emeril's Big Easy? Gloria's Butter Toffee? Chocolate Glazed Doughnut? 'Nuff said. Almond milk is about all I want added to my coffee these days, and darn little of that.
• Those appalling cups are already choking our landfills. I had a look on the major player's website: although they are 'sensitive to the waste' created by their non biodegradable containers and 'investigating alternatives' they have not yet implemented a planet-saving strategy. What is the point in offering Rainforest Alliance and Fair Trade certifications if we have to tunnel through a mountain of discarded plastic to examine the bits of recycled paper on which they are printed? The somewhat belated news that one can buy re-usable cups in which to brew the coffee of one's choice has failed to mollify me.
• They are weaselly about the gluten-free issue. On the one hand, they promise all their beverages are, indeed, sans cereal proteins - except for at least two: French Vanilla Cafe au Lait contains wheat (huh?) and Lemon Blueberry tea contains malted oats (what on earth for?). This makes me suspicious.
• Servings are either 6-8 oz or 10-12 oz. My most favorite mug in the all the world contains exactly thirteen ounces. How would that work, mathematically-speaking?
• It takes a whole minute to brew a cup of coffee - an unacceptably long period of time.
• The machines (and coffee) are expensive - and no doubt just as susceptible to silting up with mineral goo as my cheap and cheerful Mr. Coffee.

Now, I wouldn't mind any of this if they weren't edging out the simple twelve-cup filter setups that have been a mainstay in my kitchen for yours - but as I said, I had to go to five different places before I found the sort of machine I wanted (and even then, it came without a filter basket - for shame!). It made me very, very cross. So cross that I was forced to forgo my afternoon varnish remover and have a cup of organic Earl Grey instead.

But I feel a bit better now: all this venting to the ether has had at least one positive outcome. Having laid it out like this, I know who to blame for my angst.

The Keurig coffee people.

Thank goodness it's not the chocolate-covered dates.