We are now the proud owners of a very old, second-hand espresso machine, scrounged from my parents' garage and in dire need of a clean. It's called the "Cappucino Express". I'm in love.
I've had too much coffee already today - macchiato spiked with whiskey, as befits us editor-types - but I cannot wait to set the machine up tomorrow morning and take it for a spin. Polish it 'til it gleams, tamp the coffee down lovingly and watch the muddy, sweet liquid trickle down into the base of an old cup. I usually drink ristretto but I might even make a cafe latte, strong, just to pull the milk and watch it get glossy and foamy and thick. Then I'll clean the machine and do it again. And again, and again...
Welcome back, espresso in the morning. My God, but I've missed you.
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