This post is dedicated to Megan and Cameron, whose house I am not staying at today.
That's right, folks, I had a trip planed to Portland to see them - my first solo trip since Little L's birth and my first trip to visit them since I was out there three springs ago when I was pregnant with Little L.
It felt like an important trip. A taste of independence. A taste of how I spent my time pre-Little L.
As I know is the case with many people's trips for weddings, family reunions, and the like, my trip will have to wait.
In the interim, Megan and I have been video chatting, something I'm not sure if we've ever done in the past - our long-distance friendship is comprised mostly of texts and emails. During our latest chat, which started by her asking why she wasn't on screen and me saying, "Take the post-it off your camera!" we came up with a number of ideas for blog posts, which I plan to highlight this week as an Ode to Megan and Cameron.
This first post is for Cameron, the only coffee-drinker in their household.
Because before you can begin anything, you have to have your coffee.
For a long while now, being the only coffee drinker in my house as well, I've been drinking instant coffee. But last year at the holidays, my mother-in-law and father-in-law accidentally gifted me, by ways of each buying one for the other when the household was only short one, a pour-over coffee contraption. Even better, my mother-in-law often brings me ground decaf coffee (my I-want-less-caffeine-but-I-can't-live-without-coffee choice for about the past year and a half) to use with it. I use it only on days I'm not working; on work days, I still go with the instant coffee. since the morning rush is such a mad dash.
But when I began my new quarantined life of working from home, there was suddenly not as much of a time crunch in the morning. Wondering why? Here's a hint: Read about how often I wash my hair these days.
So I've been pouring coffee over every morning. It's delicious.
For the first couple of cups. But then it starts to get a little weak by the third or fourth cup, and, since I'm home, believe me, I want a third or fourth cup.
Yet I always think, I shouldn't use another coffee filter. That would just be wasteful.
And then one morning it hit me.
I only use the French Press when I have someone here to drink coffee with me and more importantly to prepare the coffee. Someone like Cameron.
I sure was looking forward to Cameron making me French press every morning during my visit. Megan had put "decaf coffee" on the spreadsheet she was creating in anticipation of my upcoming trip.
But even without Cameron's coffee skills, it occurred to me that I now had the perfect situation to make French Press coffee for myself.
Not just on the weekend. I can make French Press every single day.
Sure, I use a little more coffee grounds than I would on the pour over. But then I can make an entire carafe! And yes, I'll admit, I do go back and add some additional boiling water later in the day. Most days I don't even clean out my French Press until dinnertime. But again, it doesn't matter, because, time is more fluid now.
Also, I have a compost bowl that I can set on the counter, and it makes getting the coffee grounds out much easier than my past method of trying to put them in the garbage under the sink. Plus, you know, it's good for the Earth. Composting, I mean. I'm not sure if my coffee habit contributes positively on such a grand scale.
So, in honor of Cameron, here is what I remember of the method he taught me for making great French Press.
This is an estimation of his expert process, but it does taste good.
Cameron, thanks for teaching me how to make coffee. I'm enjoying it, everyday. To my mother-in-law, thanks for the shipment of coffee grounds, without which Cameron's process would be much less useful.
Megan and Cameron, I miss you. Tomorrow's post will be dedicated to you, too. Get up, make some coffee, pretend I'm there with you, and wait for it.
I switched the "C"s to "K"s because that seems like a thing people do. Or did. I'm usually late to the pop culture party, wearing my 21st Century Casual Pants.