The coffee machine broke down some time ago and I couldn't find a replacement that was the type I like that was not expensive.

Brewed coffee is ruined by warming it on a burner as the aromatic oils that give coffee its earthy character quickly evaporate. So I wanted something with a thermal carafe aka thermos, which keeps the coffee warm through vacuum insulation rather than the dreaded externally applied heat. The problem with carafes though I found out from my last machine — Silurian Coffee Slugs! OK, not Silurian, I just made that adjective up to make it seem more exciting. But slugs nonetheless. Weird, weird slugs. I found that the carafe had all these slugs living in the innards of the complicated screw on cover, and when the coffee was done, they would slide out of their hidey-hole in the cap and crawl around in the carafe, consuming coffee, then return to the secret slug dwelling place. These were not normal slugs like any entomologist would recognize, but some freaky space alien slugs that would give anyone the screaming heebie jeebies, or at least it did to me. My goodness, it was creepy.

I tried to sterilize the whole thing by boiling the cap and the cap warped out of shape and wouldn't go back in and I couldn't fit the carafe under the filter anymore and there were no replacements and the machine was ruined. At that point I switched to an old French Press, which is a glass tumbler with a metal filter disk on a stick that you use to press the coffee grounds down to the bottom after letting the hot water steep in the grounds for a bit. Makes a real nutty tasting coffee, but it cools quickly. This press was decades old, and I was sad when it disintegrated after a few months of use, leaving me coffee-less.

Besides the carafe, another criteria in looking for a pot was that it use a funnel shaped filter and not a flat bottomed one. Coffee made with a funnel shaped filter tastes better as the hot water goes more evenly through the grounds.

The problem is that the pots I could find with both these characteristics start at $60, which was outside my budget possibilities.

It's been far too long without coffee though and so today I resolved — even if I had to think outside the carafe and funnel box — to purchase the least expensive device I could find that wasn't out and out unacceptable.

And after an hour in the coffee machine aisle, that happened to be a $24 cappuccino machine.

I've long been curious about these, but I've avoided them because I had heard that they are hard to use, complicated to clean, and it takes a lot of skill to get the foam just right. But hey this was the cheapest thing, and I love good cappuccino, although I was skeptical I had the skills to make it myself. I figured with practice I'll could probably figure it out, but didn't have hopes it would be as good as restaurant stuff.

For those who have not had it, real Cappuccino is not the stuff you get at the gas station or hospital from the automated machine that says "Cappuccino". That stuff is just cheap instant coffee with lots of artificial flavors added. Kinda decent if in the mood for that sort of thing, but it's not the same thing at all and the difference is like the difference between Champagne and 7-Up. Both have their place.

Real Cappuccino is a cup with espresso, steamed milk, and milk foam on top. The milk foam acts as an insulator and keeps the coffee warm longer. The steamed milk goes through a chemical transformation from the brief scalding and has a really different flavor from just adding warm milk to coffee. And espresso is an intense coffee made by driving steam under high pressure through a small canister of dark roasted coffee. The coffee is made from freshly roasted beans which are ground immediately before making the espresso, grinding to a particular sand-like texture. This takes more time and trouble than pouring from a pot: each serving must be made individually and takes many steps. For this reason, cappuccino can be very expensive at a restaurant or coffee shop, running $4 and up at most places.

Cappuccino was invented a long time ago in Italy by someone who tried every possible way he could think of to make the most delicious coffee possible, that captures and transfers all of the subtleties, details and highlights of the beans. In the end, brewing by high pressure steam extracted the most oils and flavor without damaging them, while leaving the headache-inducing toxins behind. The steamed heated milk was the nicest way to complement and tame the flavors of the espresso with milk and the foam was just an extra to keep it hotter a bit longer.

Italy is one of my favorite countries. I've been to lots of places and like to meander about without any plans and take things in. Italy is just one of the most pleasant places to live in the world. There is a wide variety of Italians and each region is like its own country, but on the whole Italians are passionate, fun, friendly and approachable people. Food is very important in Italy and even the worst of the food is fantastic. Things are made from fresh ingredients and the American value of doing everything on the cheapest way possible is simply not done. You don't compromise on the food, for food is life. In Italy, I cried and had visions after eating ice cream in Rome, which was so utterly brilliant that I could not eat ice cream for a year after returning, not even Hagen Dazs or any of the premium brands. There was no comparison. Italian ice cream was genuine and the best of the american ice creams was nothing more than a complete and obvious forgery sharing almost no qualities with the original. Coffee was also the same. Italian cappuccino was perfect in every way. It made you sleepy. It made you see coffee for the first time in your life.

Back in the US, I tried to find coffee like this, even visiting an Italian restaurant founded by recent immigrants who meticulously tried to do everything they could to duplicate the coffee of their homeland. It was quite excellent, but something was still missing. Over the years, I realized some things. You couldn't use tap water because that has chlorine. And you couldn't use bottled water because that is missing certain trace minerals that effect the chemistry of the coffee making process. It had to be unprocessed spring or well water, and the source of the water affected the taste a lot. Water was the most important factor, more so than the beans. Beans should be 100% Arabica, but not the cheapest stuff. You couldn't buy pre-ground, you have to grind the beans yourself. And you should be cautious about who roasted the beans, and make sure they are relatively fresh. Better yet, buy raw coffee beans and roast them yourself, though this is a nasty dirty business that must be done outside due to the smoke.

Anyway, I unpack the machine, grind up some beans that a close friend brought me back from a trip out of state, pour milk in my big coffee mug as a milk pitcher, pour the water in, snap in the coffee handle and turn the pressure cavity cap, and turn the thing on. It starts flowing after a few minutes, I switch the control to steam and swish around the steam nozzle in the milk. It seems to be frothing pretty good. Dip the nozzle down in the milk mug to heat and not just froth, and now the espresso is done. Pour into a 12 oz coffee mug 1/3 full, then 1/3 of milk, then spoon the froth on. This was the first time doing this in my life and didn't bother to read the instructions but it just seems kind of obvious, though I have seen them do this at coffee shops.

So, will this first batch suck, or will it be barely acceptable?

And here goes.... Hm, well now. This tastes 100% exactly like the cappuccino I would get in Italy.

Wow.

And that is something I have never had in the US at any restaurant, no matter how expensive. I think the well water is part of it, plus my intuition for the right size of bean grind. And I guess I'm a natural for the foamy step.

Yay!

Just then the oven beeped and my date-nut-raisin bread made completely from my own scratch recipe was ready, so took it out and made a slice, and put real butter on it. And after years of failing at the most basic baking attempts, somehow last year I got it together and now I have this whole bread thing down and this date-nut-raisin is better than any bread I have had in any bakery anywhere.

So I am standing about, feeling pretty mellow and quietly stunned and appreciative of my good fortune at having somehow done this right, and having discovered some great secret that I was searching for for years.

And I have three cappuccinos from that first batch.

I don't know if you've ever heard this, but great Cappuccino is a hallucinogen. I realized that in Italy. You feel really super mellow. It's not like the harsh caffeine in coffee at all. It's exactly like the difference between $100/bottle wine and Thunderbird wine that is aged in the bottle for 20 minutes on the assembly line before the screw-on cap is attached. One is harsh and nasty and gives you a headache and nausea, and the other is smooth and mellow and makes you relaxed and giddy.

Then the mind wanders and the visions come and colors are brighter. You might need to take a nap.

At the end, all you can think about is getting that next Cappuccino. But I know that if I make another one, I won't be able to stop and I will be making them all night long, until I run out of beans. Or until I start to get bad scary trips from excessive Cappuccino induced psychedelia. So it's just one pot for now.