As experts, we advise that you don't pick your first french press out for yourself. Fancy gadgets are fun, and sometimes a nice splurge when you're feeling low. But they have a tendency to sit in your cabinet and collect dust. Have someone else pick it out for you. You're moving away for the first time and you'll have a tendency to overestimate your mental capacity in the current moment. Mention to your father that you want one. That the $20 coffee maker you had bought at the discount store for yourself a year ago no longer works. Now, forget about that. It's important that you forget, because it makes the surprise more special.
We advise that you wait until the last minute to receive your french press. You've been packing for how many days, at this point? Your life is in boxes, and you're long past the point of organization. Wait until you've packed the last box titled "miscellaneous." As this is a gift, you have very little control over these circumstances, but we advise that you do your best to set the stage for this moment. Remember how we told you to forget?
The van is packed, but your father flags you down anyway. He presses a small, glass jar into your hands and your fingers slid over the smoothness. "Couldn't you have gotten this to me sooner?" is what you ask, but you don't have an exasperation in your voice. You're remembering that you asked for this now, and it's quickly overwhelming your senses.
"I tried," he says. "But it only came in the mail this morning. I'm sorry, sweetie."
He doesn't have to apologize, but it doesn't matter. You hug him, squeezing your old man as tight as you dare, since you don't want to break his back. "It's perfect, thank you,"you say.
You hug the others who have come to see you off, and then you climb into the car. It sags into the ground, heavy with memories and the distilled weight of property. You pull out of the driveway, waving as much as you can, because you don't want to let this moment go and the people in your driveway almost wish you would stay. But soon, you lose sight of them, and you drive away. Your french press is in the passenger seat.
Use coarse coffee grounds. Pour boiling water into the glass before you want to use it, to keep the coffee from scalding. Use sixty or seventy grams of coffee (we know you don't have a scale to measure that). Wait until your water has just stopped boiling, then pour it in. Wait six to eight minutes (you'll forget to set the timer), then push the plunger down and strain the coffee in one, smooth push. Everyone emphasizes how important a smooth push is. No one tells you why this is important or what happens if you fail to be smooth. Only make sure that you do your best. We want to minimize the taste of worry that you've failed.
Your french press will become just another piece of clutter on the countertop. You won't have enough room for a french press in your cabinet. The item itself isn't that big. It's only slightly larger, circumference-wise, than your other glasses. However, the handle is much larger than you anticipated it to be. There's no magical cabinet configuration that will fix that.
If it sits out on the counter, maybe you'll remember to use it more, you rationalize to yourself. You already drink plenty of coffee, but perhaps this will encourage you to spend less money going out to buy some. Perhaps you will invest time in yourself and learn a new skill.
You use it sometimes, of course. In the mornings, in the evening after dinner, during writing sessions, and long hours studying. But often, it slips your mind. It sits on your counter and collects oil and grime from your many, messy cooking attempts. And if we're being honest, french press coffee isn't all that distinct from drip. You'd rather get a latte from the cafe down the street. You learn your bad at studying in your own home, the temptation to slack off is too great. Even worse, you don't always have the energy to do the dishes and wash the cooking grime off of your coffee maker. There's always an excuse. No time is ever just right.
Need practice? Try making coffee for your friends. Moving was stressful, but living in your own apartment is a blessing. You can host study groups, game nights, and birthday parties. Maybe there isn't enough space on the countertop, and you have to squeeze four people on the loveseat that barely fits in what passes for the living room. But others can sit on the floor surrounding the coffee table, can fit plenty of mugs and a small jar of cream.
It's safe to say that your coffee isn't good. But, that doesn't really matter. For your birthday, one of your friends gifts you a handheld milk frother, which grants you the absolute luxury of fresh, hot, foamed milk on top of handmade coffee. It's wonderful. No one complains, and the real test comes later.
When your father finally makes the trek to visit you, we advise that you clean your apartment as much as humanly possible. But if he doesn't tell you he's coming, we understand if that's not possible.
It's an icy evening. There's frost on the windows and fog lies close to the ground. You open your apartment door, and you almost close the door out of shock and fear of the cold. He's the only member of your family to come and see you. He's worried about money, if you're getting along well.
There's a lot to talk about. So you put the kettle and a saucepan of cool milk on the stove. You wonder if he'll accept poorly-made coffee, but you donisn't need to worry. Of course he will.