A Beautiful Grind

A multitude of factors pour into play producing a quality cuppa, but in many respects it's all in your grind.  After all, the grind controls everything—strength, flavor, texture, brew time—so unless you embrace diner-grade dishwater with open mouth, this is one step you don't want to bollix.

Baratza G 285 Maestro

Here at Café Krups-in-my-Kitchen, I use a Baratza Maestro conical burr grinder by SolisCrema, first recommended to me by my old college haunt, Coffee Labs Roasters.  Many regard the Baratza brand as the best around, and the lower-end models are both beautifully designed and reasonably priced for home baristas.  Even these feature a professional grade burr (rotating cutting tip) spinning at 450 RPMs and nearly 20 refined settings, from the finest Turkish to the coarseness of the cast of Jersey Shore.  A substantial improvement from the Cuisinart pulse grinder mine replaced, which consisted of "on" and "off."

Some may question how one can justify spending $100+ on something just to grind coffee, let alone actually make it.  I, for one, was given a college graduation check with explicit instructions not to save it but "spend it on s@#% you don't need but actually want."  But there's many ostensible advantages.  By not owning one and grinding your stash elsewhere to last days—if not weeks—at a time, you're compromising serious flavor as your grinds inevitably oxidize in ambient air, even in seemingly sealed containers.  Aside from the freshness factor, a good grinder also affords you the flexibility and to brew any beans into whatever you want.  I've pulled espresso shots with single origin medium roast and pour-over brewed espresso roast.  Being creative is half the fun.

Baratza Virtuoso

It's hard to remember the dark days before my Baratza.  My parents' house was a Maxwell House house, grossly ill equipped to fulfill the needs of my perk palate.  My father, though void of his own standards, did however recognize the need for an alternative to avoid offending company; this was accomplished via swiping a silver commercial-grade whale of a percolator pot from the office and the aforementioned Williams Sonoma-purchased apparatus, which being void of settings served me little purpose and reliant on pre-ground vacu-sealed Illy or Lavazza espresso.

The memories are too disturbing to continue.  Any semi-serious java junkie should be spared the misery I endured for so many years as a broke college student dependent on canned coffee goods, so if you haven't already, seriously, hook yourself up.  Procure the power of these grind tricks.   Dishwater isn't the coffee you're looking for—move along.