Friday, April 25, 2008
I can’t believe I’ve reached the point in my caffeine addiction where seeing a price of $1795 for an espresso machine doesn’t make me laugh at the very idea that someone would spend that kind of money on a machine that isn’t even self-cleaning. That’s more than I spent on my flat screen TV. More than I spent on my laptop. The espresso machine does nothing to simplify my life. It doesn’t organize my files or help me do my taxes. But, it provides a truly priceless service brewing shot after shot of deep, dark, pleasantly bitter espresso topped with that beautiful, frothy, chestnut head of crema. It produces that blissful aroma that says, “wow, this is going to be a great day!”
Now that I’ve read news on Wired.com that says periodic small shots of caffeine are better for me than large doses, I could classify that $1795 as healthcare.
Do I need more reasons? Look at the thing. It’s like the Viggo Mortensen of espresso machines. Gorgeous, well-proportioned, vaguely exotic. Not like those hulking machines that spread across half your counter, or the ones that are all switches and lights with a skinny little wand. This one has two substantial wands, one for steamed milk and one for hot water. How considerate. And I love the way the two knobs on the front seem to wink at me.
How much do I want this machine? How much do babies want milk? How much does a dog want to sniff crotch?
I know it's unfair to my current, hard-working Rancilio Silva, which may actually make a better shot. But how can it compete with its boxy utilitarian design that looks more like something I'd find in an auto repair shop? It had to know a machine like Rocket Giotto would come along one day.