I don’t have anything against the French. I have inappropriate relationships with croissants. I often fantasise about falling into a giant barrel of ripe camembert where my only hope of survival is eating my way out, one creamy bite at a time. French cinema n’est-ce pas? C’est motherfucking bon! The Eiffel tower might be a bit meh, but at least it’s iconic. And the Tour de Fwance is an epic contest between man and mountain; a gruelling and beautiful journey into the depths of man’s soul. Plus it’s now enhanced by the chronic and shameless shotgun approach to artificial performance enhancement i.e. Fill up that shotgun with ‘roids and shoot that motherfucker down my throat! And you could do a lot worse than a cosy retirement villa in le Midi. So the land of frogs’ legs, snails and Victor Hugo really has a lot going for it.
If there was one aspect of the French that is somewhat okay to poke fun at (they're sensitive, so be subtle), it may be their lack of blind courage *coughspultter don’tmentiontheVichy*. And maybe blind courage isn’t a bad thing to have in short supply. It doesn’t really pay the bills. Many have had their lives prematurely ended with its barbed point digging into their clammy backs. In fact, I suspect that there would be a decent quantity of souls who, with hindsight, would have wished for a bit less blind courage, a tad more pragmatism and an escape route. So don’t knock the French too much. And don’t, on pain of death, knock the French press – the only press-up you can expect the French to do without good cause.
If you don’t have the patience for a Moka, don’t have the finances for a coffee machine but you want a little more soul (see soulless coffee in image below) in your coffee, then a French press is for you. Not even in your most incapable morning stupor should you fuck this one up. But let’s not make any assumptions here. Hapless cretins often lurk in capable looking skins. So, with the hope of improving humanity, I have attached the idiot-proof guide to cafetière à piston.
What you’ll need:
1. Freshly roasted, freshly ground coffee – fairly coarse, but you’ll have to try a few grinds before you find your sweet spot. If you’re buying stale fucking coffee, pre-ground (for all you know it was ground before you were born) then we (i.e. you) have a long fucking way to go.
2. A French press (or go full fucking Aye-Talian and ask the unwitting shop assistant for caffettiera a stantuffo with wild eyes and gesturing in an aggressively chaotic manner). The fuckers will try and talk you into buying one made of glass. But hold out - they fucking break and you'll end up buying a new one every couple of years. If you see a stainless steel model, then buy that prince – he'll last forever. And don’t skimp, you skimpy skimper – decent quality will be well worth the price.
3. Boiling water. Fucking obviously.
4. A tablespoon.
5. A timer.
What you’ll do:
1. Boil the kettle. Fucking obviously.
2. Use two heaped tablespoons (heap those fuckers high) of grounds per cup. Empty grounds into press.
3. Wait 30 or so seconds after the kettle has boiled. Pour water over the ground coffee – drench every little grain in scalding water and chuckle menacingly. Use 220ml of water for each cup.
4. Start the timer and cover the press to keep the coffee warm.
5. At 1 min, stir the coffee/water slush thoroughly. Cover again. Contemplate your navel.
6. At 4 minutes, start plunging the filter. Do not bring your nervous, anxious mood to this task. Be a fucking zen master and plunge slowly and evenly until thou canst plunge no more.
7. Celebrate. You have a full-bodied, rambunctious, perfectly extracted cup of deliciousness. Not even you could fuck it up.
Bon chance and bon fucking voyage, young disciple – go forth and perform thy French press-ups for all and sundry.
1. Freshly roasted, freshly ground coffee – fairly coarse, but you’ll have to try a few grinds before you find your sweet spot. If you’re buying stale fucking coffee, pre-ground (for all you know it was ground before you were born) then we (i.e. you) have a long fucking way to go.
2. A French press (or go full fucking Aye-Talian and ask the unwitting shop assistant for caffettiera a stantuffo with wild eyes and gesturing in an aggressively chaotic manner). The fuckers will try and talk you into buying one made of glass. But hold out - they fucking break and you'll end up buying a new one every couple of years. If you see a stainless steel model, then buy that prince – he'll last forever. And don’t skimp, you skimpy skimper – decent quality will be well worth the price.
3. Boiling water. Fucking obviously.
4. A tablespoon.
5. A timer.
What you’ll do:
1. Boil the kettle. Fucking obviously.
2. Use two heaped tablespoons (heap those fuckers high) of grounds per cup. Empty grounds into press.
3. Wait 30 or so seconds after the kettle has boiled. Pour water over the ground coffee – drench every little grain in scalding water and chuckle menacingly. Use 220ml of water for each cup.
4. Start the timer and cover the press to keep the coffee warm.
5. At 1 min, stir the coffee/water slush thoroughly. Cover again. Contemplate your navel.
6. At 4 minutes, start plunging the filter. Do not bring your nervous, anxious mood to this task. Be a fucking zen master and plunge slowly and evenly until thou canst plunge no more.
7. Celebrate. You have a full-bodied, rambunctious, perfectly extracted cup of deliciousness. Not even you could fuck it up.
Bon chance and bon fucking voyage, young disciple – go forth and perform thy French press-ups for all and sundry.