Caffeine Survivalist

I need coffee. In fact our whole family runs better when coffee is introduced to the mix. My wife and I are so paranoid about the apocalyptic results of the coffee running out that we always have piles of the stuff in the pantry as well as a jar of what we refer to as ‘the emergency coffee’ made up of  run off from the previous bags.  The alternative is too hideous to consider.

Now let me make my position clear. I am not talking about the disgusting freeze dried swill that the peasant classes claim as coffee. I am talking about delicious ground beans run through a caffitierre or coffee machine and poured gently into a beautiful cup which steams tantalisingly as it fills the room with an aroma of brown affluence and calm . I only usually drink two cups a day as my kidneys threatened to explode a few years back and consultants informed me that coffee was instrumental in the formation of kidney stones & best avoided.  

Personally, I am not willing to live in a world where coffee is denied to me and so I have compromised and have just two cups a day. One around 6am and one around 5pm. But the coffee has to be GOOD. I will not tolerate substandard rubbish and so will always refuse offers of coffee when at someone elses house. I favour Taylors ‘Rich Italian’ for preference and have a little song that I sing to myself when I am preparing it (to the tune of ‘she’s an easy lover’ by Phill Collins)

‘He’s a Rich Italian, he makes his coffee strong believe me,

Like a wild stallion, he’ll grind a coffee that will suit your needs…’

‘You know that he’s Italian, He’s a rich Italian, He wears a gold medallion, everyday. ..’  etc

 

Imagine the scene therefore. We are on a family holiday in Poland and our Air B& B (lovely as it is), has no caffitierre or coffee machine. None of the local shops appear to stock them either.  Suffice it to say that, after a couple of days without my morning caffeine fix I was clucking like a heroin addict who’s dealer has just been arrested.

‘I must have coffee’… the local shops were happy to sell any amount of ground beans but nowhere seemed to vend the means to transform them into the warm brown heavenly goodness that I required. In the end I became desperate enough to take matters into my own inept hands & decided to manufacture a ‘home made’ cafitierre out of one of my wife’s stockings, some rubber bands and a big jar that I discovered in one of the cupboards. I cut a hole in the lid of the jar using a knife and we were in business.

I am the Bear Grylls of coffee survival! The resulting brew machine totally destroyed my wife’s stocking and turned most of the kitchen into a damp, coffee grit ridden wasteland but it was worth it. Coffee, glorious coffee flowed from the DIY spout like the nectar of the gods.  Now this holiday can really get started and the kids can come out of hiding. The only draw back is that my wife is now left with one odd stocking. Perhaps I should plan a robbery so that I can make use of it. Waste not want not.