My grandmother had an aluminum pot that always sat on the woodburning
kitchen stove at their farm in northern Minnesota. She would dump some
grounds in, wet them down really good, boil the hell out of it and toss
a spoon into the pot. If it sank, she would add more coffee.
whose sphincter still clenches when I think about it.
Sounds about right. My favorite is the campfire coffee made in a porcelain
coffee pot that sits at the edge of the campfire all day. When ti gets low,
add more grounds and water, let it come to a boil and add some egg shell to
settle the grounds and move a bit farther away from the fire. After about
two days of this, you have real coffee.
On 3/27/2006 10:37 AM marc rosen mumbled something about the following:
I start my morning at work with a triple espresso of Sumatra. Yes, we
have those Flavia machines at work. This is after my half pot of coffee
I have at the house before hoping on the motorcycle for my 1+ hr commute
Driving back from Arizona last summer non-stop except for gas, eats,
and coffee stops, I stopped at a rest area in the middle of Texas early
early early in the morning and grabbed a cup of coffee from one of the
dispensers. WHEW! Kept me going clear up into Kansas someplace.
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