It actually wasn’t until after I had got home and was reviewing this particular day’s photos that I realized that this was indeed one of those stove-top coffee makers. This type of coffee maker was something I only used for the first time when I arrived to Europe, my childhood memories of coffee are instead filled with the odor of sizzling bacon and decidedly weaker American-style coffee. The gentle gurgle of the drip coffee maker punctuated all of those early mornings spent at grandma’s house, shifting the sticky-powdered non-dairy creamer into whatever designs I could manage before a wet rag wiped away that morning’s artistic musings.
Despite all those memories, the stove-top coffee did eventually grow on me, save for the times when I placed the thing a little too far to one side and melted part of the plastic handle (one of the reasons I like the picture).
Sadly, neither the stove-top nor grandma’s drip coffee are part of my mornings these days; a Christmas gift a few years back rocketed me into the world of capsule coffees.