Making Coffee

Finding the extraordinary in the ordinary – writing about a moment in my morning.

 

I am on my third kettle in 3 years. It’s the most basic kind, the one you put on the stove to heat up. I have never had this kind of kettle before. In England, everyone has an electric kettle and it’s switched on regularly throughout the day. If anyone comes to your house, you immediately ask, ‘Would you like a Cup of Tea?’

 

So when you go to buy a kettle in the UK, the choice is enormous, because Brits love boiling a brew. And I love my kettle in England, it’s like the Ferrari of kettles, she boils so fast, she’s a sexy matt black, made my Dualit.

 

Dualit_Kettle

 

But when I go to Bed Bath & Beyond, I’m amazed at the small selection of sad looking kettles. It must be one of the few disappointing consumer comparisons I have had, usually the US provides choice far beyond the offerings of little old England.

 

Since moving here 2 more of my electric kettles have broken. I was so happy with my last one, she was white and you could see the water bubbling inside, but she boiled so slowly. I knew it was a risky choice, because the Amazon reviews were not all great, but she looked so pretty on my white kitchen counter, and then, she broke!

 

White Kettle

 

So I just bought a cheap thing with no electronics that would break. An interim kettle until I hunt down a Dualit, or update the kitchen! So each morning, I get out of bed and put the kettle on the gas cooker and then I kill time, is it around 5 minutes for this to boil? I don’t know. Time enough to get changed quickly, or play with our new puppy or start preparing breakfast for the girls.

 

Stove Kettle

 

And then I pour myself a coffee, and I use an instant coffee from England. Oh yuk, ‘instant coffee!’ I hear you say. But again, this is great instant that you cannot buy here! And I am the only one that drinks coffee! So, I stock up and buy three or four cans and pack them in my suitcase to bring back here.

 

Nescafe

 

You might be wondering why I don’t drink English tea, but I occasionally do, but more so when in England with a small pint of milk, enough for a little milk in my tea each day.

I remember when my sister Polly got the instant tap of boiling water installed in her kitchen and I felt a little sad at the thought of losing the wait time of a kettle.

There is something rather satisfying about that old kettle, the ritual of waiting for it to boil and it’s loud whistle that I speed over to and turn off the cooker to so it doesn’t wake everyone up!

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