R.I.P. Dear Coffee Maker

Photo by Rita Bourland © 2012

R.I.P. Dear Coffee Maker

We lost our dearly beloved coffee maker today.  It sprang a spring from some inner valve, no longer able to push steaming water through the grounds.   I purchased this Krups coffee maker over 15 years ago for my husband.  He had become a latte lover or lover of lattes whichever phrase you prefer – bottom line – I had a hunch he would enjoy making lattes.  Besides bringing our three wonderful sons into the world, it was probably the best gift I ever gave him

He delighted in preparing each cup.   He placed just the right amount of coffee into the filter, poured water into the water cavity and then waited for the perfect moment to turn the steamer on.  His cup stood at the ready with just enough milk for perfect frothing.  It was so simple, so successful an endeavor that we all quickly became converts.  Guests were seduced with the offer of a latte.  It even came with us for a summer wedding in Indiana where we had rented a cabin with 10 other people.  The early morning line formed behind the Krups - numbers were taken.

The design was flawless, the function reliable, the coffee so superb that we were lulled into a sense of security, thinking our machine would be with us always.  We took for granted its can do spirit, its work ethic, its ever ready stance.  Sure, we had to purchase a new glass carafe on two occasions, but it was the basic machine we relied on for our morning coffee.

Just in the last couple of months we had talked about the inevitable day when the machine might die, no doubt cursing our fate. 

We have begun our search.  Krups still has a machine that looks similar to what we lost, but nothing will ever fully replace the old tried and true.  

My parents had machines they could repair and find parts for – they took pride in owning them for decades.  It was inspiring to watch my father dismantle a clock or radio and later find it working again.  The same was true for lawn mowers, cars and vacuums.  This little Krups machine reminded me of those good old days. 

So tomorrow will come but coffee will have to wait for a sad drive to a coffee shop.  Speaking into the drive thru window I will say, “One medium, skim latte, please.”  Until our new machine arrives, we will be scouring the city for a cup of coffee that resembles the latte delights we prepared in our own kitchen. 

 R.I.P. dear coffee maker.  You served us well.