Coffee

This is not a story about coffee as a beverage. It is not about an exclusive, elusive and expensive single origin bean that is obsessively processed into a cup of coffee using machinery that is exotic and photogenic.

This is a humble nod to the kitchen ritual.

There are a lot of kitchen rituals and ceremonies. This is, usually, the first one of any day.

Inglis Hall, by eight thirty most mornings, is a constant thrum of process, production, progress and purpose.

This is, in part, owing to the precious thirty minutes which preceed.

Black no sugar. White with two. Extra shot. Please. Sorry, please. Any more in the pot? Another pot? Just an inch more. Go on then. A bit more. The last cup anyone?

Like most kitchens, ours at the workshop and studio is armed with pretty much every weapon in the caffeine battle.

Is it significant that the favourite device is the ancient, battered, faithful, better with age, aluminium stovetop canister. You know the one. You probably have one. If you don’t you should get one. Thinking about it though. You’re spending your time giving serious thought to kitchens so you definitely have one.

Metal, Bakelite, ground coffee, water and a flame. Or any heat. No way to hurry this one. Time for a chat. When you hear the soft burble of highly charged liquid in the upper chamber it is time.

Always the choice of the purist.

Careful. The handle does get hot. Come on. Of course the aluminium body gets hot.

A pristine pool of ebony. A shame to add sugar in my opinion. A crime to add milk but that’s only me. Honey? Really?

Oh well.

Anyway.

This small story emerged when we were discussing recent, and previous, projects.

The dedicated coffee shrine, the barista station, call it what you will. Increasingly, the kitchens we create have a high specification artillery of coffee making equipment.

It gleams, it steams and it grinds expensive, obscure and exquisite beans. It is out of bounds to children. It often takes pride of place.

We agree. A kitchen needs this engine. We all need the fuel it creates. It is best not to imagine the slump in quality and performance of Inglis Hall should the supply of coffee be cut off.

There are few fragrances that whisper comfort better than the complex notes of freshly ground, dark oily beans on their way to being drunk.

Lewes is a coffee town. You all know the places. We are biased for many reasons. Our stop off is Caccia & Tails. An altar dedicated, with Italian passion, to coffee and carbs.

So. Yes. Coffee. Just another thing to think about when imagining the beautiful kitchen.