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I get ticked off at photos of coffee. Everyone takes them. They are all the same: misty, shot from above, over-romanticised and over-done. I have vowed never to take post a coffee photo on Instagram. I have kept my vow. But here's the thing: I love coffee photos. I just do. I love other people's I love my own. They are pretty and relaxing and nice. I decided to share some of mine with you. If you are like me, then I hope you will forgive this post in which I revel in the aesthetic beauty of the art of coffee-making.
I used my birthday present from my parents. They sent me a moka pot, because when I am at home with them in the Czech Republic I use my Mom's all the time. She got hers when we went to Italy. Sheldon says that when he was studying in Italy he saw people use them all the time. I first encountered moka pots when I did the talent exams for my art secondary school. Our Bulgarian teacher incorporated it inot the still-life trail. When I finally got in to the school she used them in our drawing class all the time. Let's just say I have a lot of good associations with moka pots.
What is it exactly? It is basically a tiny espresso maker. You unscrew the top half of the pot with the handle and place grounds into a removable, perforated basket, which rests in the middle of the pot. You put about half a cup of water in the bottom half and screw on the top. You place the whole pot on the stove and it eventually begins to make the water steam. The steam pushes up through the grounds and through a tube leading up into the top half of the pot. On the way up the steam condenses back into liquid. But after having passed through the tightly packed coffee grounds the liquid is a strong espresso.
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