Then there are glass carafes and metal ones. The metal containers keep the brew hot without a heating element. But I can’t see through metal. How am I supposed to know if there is coffee in there? How many times have you poured only to find three drips left?
Let’s make coffee. Usually, one folds a paper filter into the holder, scoops the desired amount of crushed beans, and presses play. The expensive units always required me to pull out the container, lift a plastic lid, scoop in the beans, close the lid, and reinsert into the machine. Now I’m too tired and ready to go back to bed. The other essential element in good coffee making is water. First I pour water into the carafe. From the carafe I re-pour the water into the container. I forgot how many cups I was making. The number of servings was hash-marked on the carafe. Was I making four cups or eight? Now I must turn the unit upside down and re-pour the water into the carafe. Wonderful– now the beans spilled everywhere. A kitchen catastrophe.
I enjoy hearing the boiling gurgle while the thick liquid drips into the glass carafe. A pleasant beep is the prelude for a delightful experience. However, this morning the liquid seemed a little light, more like tea. Did I use too much water? Did I use too few scoops? The clerk said this was a good coffeemaker, and even came with a remote control that I could activate from my bedside. I opened the hood to see the beans. The paper filter had collapsed. I unfolded the paper and poured the amber liquid on top the soggy grounds for a second brew. It never tastes the same, but I do not like to waste.