Pourover brewer vs. poor press brewer

As mentioned in a previous post--I have had trouble with my coffee press. Rarely--maybe one out of six times--did I get a solid cup of coffee.

But, I am happy to report, my brewing problems are over. My pourover brewer arrived. I gave it a try this morning, and it produced a remarkably nice cup--and on the first try! The only caveat, at this point, is that it will brew only about 12 ounces at a time. This amount is perfect for me... but if I have guests, I may have to give the coffee press another go.

The improbable sexiness of paper

What is it about paper? Out of context, paper is quite plain (or 3-hole punched-- ah thank you, Jim Halpert). But considered in many of its ubiquitous forms--paper is undeniably sexy.

The thank-you note A promptly sent paper note says, "Thanks for [insert laudable behavior here] --I truly appreciate having you as a [insert relationship identifier here]." But a thank-you email says, "Well... you're still in my Contacts List, so... thanks, I guess."

Congratulations Well, in honesty, a paper card probably won't add a whole lot of sincerity to these. But at least the paper version has tabs under which freshly printed $20 bills (also paper--arguably) may be placed for that deserving graduate.

The love letter Love emails simply cannot compete with a hand written, paper enveloped, love letter. With a paper letter, you have personal details to study--neatness of the letter, handwriting style, possibly an aroma. You can tell, to some extent, how much care was invested in writing the letter. Are there mistakes (remember, no spellcheck)? If so, were they ignored, crossed out, whited-out, or just overlooked? The perfect handwriting, spelling, and grammar may indicate that there were discarded drafts, and therefore extra time involved in crafting the letter. Besides, without handwritten love letters, what would people do with empty shoe boxes?

Fresh meats (and other consumables) Your butcher knows: nothing is sexier than red meat--nothing, that is, except red meat wrapped neatly in thick, bleached white, butcher paper (Tip: use plain white paper tape for added sexiness). In addition to meats and fishes, paper adds a certain je ne sais quoi to other food and drink. If you've ever had the local party store put your bottle of Beefeater in a plastic sack, you understand, by contradiction, my point.

The book Here it is... the inspiration behind today's post: I said to someone this week, "I am reading The Prestige," a novel by Christopher Priest. I lied.

The truth: I have been listening to the audio book, The Prestige, as I drive to and from work, each day. This is... not reading. I didn't intend to lie--I don't think. But, I realized, as soon as I said the word "reading" that I wasn't. And I did not correct myself. Am I ashamed?--yes. Reading a book is worth twice the points of listening to one. Why? It is simply an axiom of sexiness.

The journal Finally... we address the very medium with which I convey these thoughts--the journal. Or, to, again, use the parlance of our times--the blog. The very term, "blog" is pragmatic, ugly, and utterly un-sexy. By comparison, a hand written journal--perhaps leather bound, with flowing script, occasional smudges, quaint illustrations, and relevant addenda cached within its pages--is, immeasurably, sexier.

It seems, though, that sexy is but a luxury. And though we would like hand-written love letters, french baguettes in brown paper sacks, and all of the other niceties, we settle for audio books, shrink wrapped meats, and Honda Accords.