Friday, August 1, 2014

White Christmas

We got our Keurig coffee maker at Christmas one year, maybe it was 2009? 2008? I don't know, but I became enamored (obsessed) with getting one after having coffee at my friend Karen's house.

She had a lovely assortment of coffee mugs on the table and I chose the pottery one that had blue and brown tones to it. She brought out an adorable basket with assorted k-cups so I could pick the flavor coffee I wanted. I'm pretty sure I chose hazelnut. (Ok, so this might be a mix of coffee memories at Karen's house, but hazelnut, a basket and Karen were always involved.)

I told Shane about the experience. Told him how it was a hospitality dream to offer guests any flavor they'd like (from a basket!). And he countered with economics of k-cups verses bagged coffee. He is practical; I'm all heart (when it comes to coffee anyway).

We got the Keurig. I had a basket and filled it with k-cups. While I don't remember the first time I offered a guest their choice of coffee at my house, I do know that more often than not, I think of Karen when I do and how delightful it was spending time with her.

There are woeful tales of Keurig ownership on the internet. Read any review. In fact, at our former house, there were seasons where it would only brew half a cup at a time and we'd have to double brew. I tried descaling. It was a quirky machine. Sometimes we'd get a full cup. Sometimes it cut us off at half. I did not complain (often), because I chose it.

When we moved here (and as Shane reminds me: when I sold his trusty 12-cup coffee maker at a yard sale for $2--though his memory prices it lower and lower each time he tells his story. I think yesterday he said I sold it for 15 cents.), the Keurig surged with new life. We got full cups.

"See, we're meant to be here," I rejoiced to Shane. Yeah, we had a jungle to conquer and a 20-year-long to-do list, but we had full cups of coffee fueling us.

Anyway, long story--the coffee maker died two days ago at 4 a.m. It left me with half a cup. It sputtered and groaned. I might have too. No one wants half a cup at 4 a.m. At least, not this one.

I rummaged in an upper cabinet and pulled down a hotel-style version 4-cup (Ha! Read two cups.) back up. I had filters and ground coffee (why? I have no idea).

I googled how to make coffee because it had been years since I had to and I completely forgot. (Note to self: 1-1/2 tbs of coffee per cup is a good starting point.)

I googled single-serve coffee makers. I had accumulated enough Keurig points to get me, my neighbors, and second cousins discounted coffee makers for at least the next five years (and, according to some reviews, I would need them!). But then I wondered what else was out there. I found Bunn.


It wasn't a matter of want. I knew I needed this baby. Changeable parts that allowed brewing of k-cups, ground coffee, soft pods, loose tea leaves! The possibilities made my eyes wide like Erin's on Christmas morning.

The reviews on it were glowing. Keurig converts praised its performance. And really, what's not to love? Ok, one minor detail of having to add water for each cup of coffee (no reservoir tank). Wasn't I nearly doing that with this little 4-cup (read 2-cup) wannabe?

This morning I brewed myself a pot (Ha, if you call two cups a pot) of a blend called White Christmas.

Shane asked, "So what are we doing here?" And before I could answer, he said, "I don't want to add water every time I want a cup of coffee. This is something we'll be using for years."


"Fine ..." I paused, giving him the opportunity to change his mind. He didn't.

"I really, really want the Bunn. But we can get the Keurig (it's cheaper with the discount). AND WHEN THAT BREAKS, we're getting the Bunn. Deal?" I said.


Folks, this is my documentation of the agreement.

I've never had tea from loose leaves, and I've made it this far. What's a little longer?

On, on.

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