How to make enough coffee for your entire
morning without adding much to the landfill:
Are there still some folks who have the
old-fashioned Mr. Coffee that brews up to twelve cups of the black liquid
pick-me-up each morning? Twelve cups? Perhaps
in the even-older-fashioned days and styles of china cups, yes. But don’t all
modern brides and bridegrooms and college students and young adults drink from
pottery or glass mugs? Or even Yetis or insulated school-or-business-logoed
flasks?
After a
daughter’s marriage, she found herself with an extra coffeemaker that she
offered. “Thank you kindly,” I said, and studied up on its requirements.
The next
Christmas, my children presented me with a Keurig brewer, that of the plastic
pods of pre-measured grounds. The previous Mr. Coffee was relegated to the
farthest recesses of the corner kitchen cabinet, joining a bun warmer, a double
boiler and a Bundt cake pan. May they all
rest there until my heirs get them.
Ah, the
Keurig machine! Now to find the perfect spot. It must accommodate my
left-handedness. I surveyed the countertop to the left of the sink for a space
about the size of an old-fashioned electric mixer with a bowl. A light switch
paired with two electrical plug-ins was handy. In the corner where two walls
converge was a cup (or mug) carousel. Voila!
Just enough room in front of it for the new, modern, sleek Keurig.
In the cupboard above, an Old-Fashioned glass
(sometimes called a lowball or rocks glass) held single packets of instant
lemonade, peach tea, and root beer. A box of one-hundred packets of
saccharin-based sweetener was also in reach. On the side wall, a pottery
pocket-piece held scissors.
At the back
of the counter convenient to the outlets, I placed a brown wicker basket to
hold the coffee pods—light-roast Breakfast Blend, Hazelnut, and when available,
Pumpkin Spice. On the right side of the basket, I snugged in a spoon holder with
two indentions, one for a handful of sweetener packets, the other for a long
teaspoon. Between the cup carousel and the basket was room for a medium-sized,
ironstone pitcher that would hold enough water to fill the well of the machine.
I could pull the pitcher by the handle slowly through the confluence of handles
made by that of the tall mug on the Keurig base and the handle of the teapot
sitting on a resurrected, electric cup warmer. Why a teapot, you ask? I’ll
answer later.
Speaking of the tall mug that catches the coffee, I use a favorite one: pink, with a fat, red heart added to the middle of the handle. When not in use, I turn it to see the message:
“FRIENDS/ are
like bras: supportive, never leave you hanging, make you look good, and are
always close to your heart.”
To make
enough coffee for the morning, I’ll need a large vessel to hold multiple runs
through the Keurig. Hmm. Oh! How about that pear-motif-ed teapot that grandson
Billy spied at the local pharmacy? He brought it over and offered it since I
collect pear-paraphernalia? The base set perfectly on the warmer and the green
ceramic handle faced toward the machine for a hefty, lefty grasp.
To make the
“coffee center” more attractive, handy, and easy-to-clean, I folded a kitchen
towel into fourths, the long side against the warmer to catch any drips from
the pot to the mug.
I’ve
described the setting, now, here are the steps to making coffee that will last
all morning, but not (eventually) add much to any landfill.
To be continued.
c 2024, Pat Laster dba lovepat press, Benton AR USA
