My good friend Michaela and I were chatting recently about the French press. She told me that not only did she have one, but that she'd been really wanting to master it. I suggested that she not only master it but write about it. Here's the result:
On the day that this piece goes to press, coffee drinkers nationwide (that nation being the USA) will raise their lattes, macchiato, and drip brews in celebration of National Coffee Day. From truck stops to college cafeterias, highbrow baristas to amateur home brewers, Americans are crazy about their coffee. In light of this fact, I wish to share with you my recent experimentation with the French press.
On the day that this piece goes to press, coffee drinkers nationwide (that nation being the USA) will raise their lattes, macchiato, and drip brews in celebration of National Coffee Day. From truck stops to college cafeterias, highbrow baristas to amateur home brewers, Americans are crazy about their coffee. In light of this fact, I wish to share with you my recent experimentation with the French press.
For months (years?) this inconspicuous little device has had a home on my kitchen counter. Pushed aside for an opening microwave door, or placed on top of a recipe printout as a paperweight, my French press was more ornamental than functional. Living in the heart of New York City, I am surrounded by amazing coffee shops from which to get my caffeine fix. Until recently, it hadn’t even crossed my mind to actually MAKE a cup chez moi.
After discovering that my single-cup coffee maker from college had met its maker, I turned my attention to the French press - to test it out and share the results. Thus, armed with some basic instruction, I set out to brew some chicory coffee that I had picked up on a trip to New Orleans. Like the press, this coffee had served more of an ornamental purpose (love that retro, yellow tin!).
Then it began. Carefully measuring 3 heaping tablespoons of grounds, I added 12 ounces (4 ounces for each tablespoon) of pre-boiled water (part direction-instructed and part my own know-it-all-ness) until the grounds were saturated. Next, I poked the mixture down with the back of a wooden spoon (fancy equipment keep back!) until a rich froth-like substance formed. I left it to steep with the top in place, the knobbed handle pulled straight up (don’t even think of pressing those grounds yet!). I paced in my kitchen for the suggested 3-5 minutes, however after 3.5 minutes, I was ready to press - the smell was too tantalizing. I steadily pressed the knobbed handle down and watched the grounds separate from the brew. Then, I poured. “Potent!” was what I labeled the creation, even for black, dairy/soy free coffee. “Ground free,” was my next observation, as I wasn’t initially convinced that the stopper would work. “Delicious,” I then remarked, noting both the taste and the smell that mildly engulfed my kitchen.
After discovering that my single-cup coffee maker from college had met its maker, I turned my attention to the French press - to test it out and share the results. Thus, armed with some basic instruction, I set out to brew some chicory coffee that I had picked up on a trip to New Orleans. Like the press, this coffee had served more of an ornamental purpose (love that retro, yellow tin!).
Then it began. Carefully measuring 3 heaping tablespoons of grounds, I added 12 ounces (4 ounces for each tablespoon) of pre-boiled water (part direction-instructed and part my own know-it-all-ness) until the grounds were saturated. Next, I poked the mixture down with the back of a wooden spoon (fancy equipment keep back!) until a rich froth-like substance formed. I left it to steep with the top in place, the knobbed handle pulled straight up (don’t even think of pressing those grounds yet!). I paced in my kitchen for the suggested 3-5 minutes, however after 3.5 minutes, I was ready to press - the smell was too tantalizing. I steadily pressed the knobbed handle down and watched the grounds separate from the brew. Then, I poured. “Potent!” was what I labeled the creation, even for black, dairy/soy free coffee. “Ground free,” was my next observation, as I wasn’t initially convinced that the stopper would work. “Delicious,” I then remarked, noting both the taste and the smell that mildly engulfed my kitchen.
I felt triumphant, as though I had grown and harvested the beans myself. The physical, hands-on nature of French pressing is infinitely more satisfying than punching a few buttons on a coffee machine. After my second attempt a few days later with some awesome Italian coffee, I found myself equally enthusiastic about the process. This time, I lightened it up with some fresh heavy cream, which made for a cup more suited to my taste.
There you have it, dear reader, my foray into the world of the French press. So dust off that statuesque beauty (it makes for a lousy bookend) and get to brewing. CHEERS!
Michaela Johnson currently lives, eats, and works in New York City.
