Granny Buttons does a good line in gadget posts. Being a rabid coffee addict, his latest certainly caught my eye as it offered the promise of espresso without the need for electric. The kettle-assisted AeroPress...
"...is a really clever pressure device that extracts the quintessence of coffee from the bean, much better than a cafetiere, and I think better than an espresso machine."
I have to confess to a case of ‘once bitten, twice shy’ here. You see, there’s been an earlier attempt at getting round that fact that someone who shall remain 
nameless still hasn’t got me a whopping great inverter (that’ll support my delightful Kenwood Retro coffee machine). Instead, I used a classic aluminium stovetop espresso machine like this Bialetti. I filled the bottom pot with water before carefully packing the central disc with ground espresso; I placed it on the gas and to my delight it was soon spitting, burping and gurgling away. The aroma was saying all the right things to me – you'll like this, this is coffee as it should be, you'll never go back, viva Italia - although I sensed there may have been some bull-shitting going on when I saw the hot black treacle that had percolated through to the top pot. I poured the coffee-cum-molasses out more in hope than expectation and took a tiny sip from a tiny cup that had a tiny bit of milk in it. Such caution was well-founded, because I suspect that if I’d slurped in anything bigger, my heart may well have stopped, maybe for a few minutes, possibly even permanently. Dear reader, this devil’s brew nearly went and blew my bloody socks off! No wonder the Italians drive so badly if this is what they drink all day. This was beyond, way beyond ristretto...I know that because ristretto puts you on the ceiling for five minutes and I was definitely up there longer than that. This was not intense, this was explosive, a gelignite-filled amuse gueule masquerading as an innocent elevenses. Amused girl? I don't think so.
nameless still hasn’t got me a whopping great inverter (that’ll support my delightful Kenwood Retro coffee machine). Instead, I used a classic aluminium stovetop espresso machine like this Bialetti. I filled the bottom pot with water before carefully packing the central disc with ground espresso; I placed it on the gas and to my delight it was soon spitting, burping and gurgling away. The aroma was saying all the right things to me – you'll like this, this is coffee as it should be, you'll never go back, viva Italia - although I sensed there may have been some bull-shitting going on when I saw the hot black treacle that had percolated through to the top pot. I poured the coffee-cum-molasses out more in hope than expectation and took a tiny sip from a tiny cup that had a tiny bit of milk in it. Such caution was well-founded, because I suspect that if I’d slurped in anything bigger, my heart may well have stopped, maybe for a few minutes, possibly even permanently. Dear reader, this devil’s brew nearly went and blew my bloody socks off! No wonder the Italians drive so badly if this is what they drink all day. This was beyond, way beyond ristretto...I know that because ristretto puts you on the ceiling for five minutes and I was definitely up there longer than that. This was not intense, this was explosive, a gelignite-filled amuse gueule masquerading as an innocent elevenses. Amused girl? I don't think so.
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