COFFEE SAW

My father spent a few days with me last week. I was happy to see him and took advantage of his craftsman skills to get a few things fixed at Bay Street.
First of all, he filled the large holes that Bubble Girl had made trying to put up a towel rack in the bathroom. Good news Jean: the towel rack is now fixed against the door and actually holds up the weight of a towel.
He also put up my two clocks for Boston and Lausanne times. I now have no excuse for calling people in Switzerland too late. Or for being late to work.
He also tried to fix the damn heater, but was as unsuccessful as the landlord and the heat guy. The damn thing is still banging. My only hope is now for spring to come soon.
But out of all these projects, it is with the coffee maker that he tried the hardest.
Being a fan of coffee in the morning, I mean, good coffee in the morning, I invested into some Lavazza coffee and real Italian coffee-makers. I have coffee-makers in 3 sizes: a single-shot espresso-maker - as the Americans would call it. We Europeans just call that “espresso”; a two-shot espresso-maker (We simply call that “coffee”); and a two-mug coffee-maker (or a 6-cup coffee maker for Europeans).
The single-shot espresso-maker (present from my beloved brother) is so small that it is pretty much swallowed by the stove. It doesn’t work because the flames go all around the poor little thing and don’t heat up the water.
The two-shot espresso-maker works perfectly.
The two-mug coffee-maker doesn’t work either. And why it doesn’t work is a mystery.
A mystery my father was determined to solve. After due assessment, he declared that it was because the water couldn’t boil because the flames were not right under that coffee pot. (Why the medium pot worked is another mystery). All we needed to do was channel the heat with a piece of metal that we would place between the stove and the pot.
Off to Home Deport we go. Since no one uses Italian coffee makers, we were out of luck finding one of those steal things that go above the gas stove to heat up small pots.
Now, you don’t know my father, but he doesn’t give up so easily and he is pretty creative. So when he arrived at the cash register with a circular saw… I was only mildly surprised.
Next morning, I was awakened not by the awesome smell of freshly brewed coffee, but by the intoxicating smell of burnt metal and the sound of the fire alarm.
He abandoned the idea of the circular saw after only that first attempt, but he still, every morning of that week, tried to get some coffee out of that coffee-maker. He tried every spot on the stove, different quantities of coffee, different quantities of water, but nothing would do. That damn thing just doesn’t work here. (And I ran out of Lavazza coffee.)
Before he left, I asked him if he wanted to take along the coffee-makers that don’t work since they will most likely work in Europe. He said no. He will send me a metal piece from Europe.
Don’t miss COFFEE SAW II coming soon.