Mr. Coffee Spills Some Tea
Or, a tale of dual identities.
Dad was primarily a tea drinker, Lipton (orange pekoe), with sugar and milk. He’d fill the tea kettle, place it on the stove (electric) and turned the dial to high. When the water reached a rolling boil, the steam would force its way through whistle cap and scream loudly until someone got up and turned off the burner.
My Dad had sensitive hearing and he passed that trait on to my sister and I. I swear sometimes I can hear grass growing across the street. (Only half kidding.) Anyway, we all really hated that whistle.
One day, a Mr. Coffee coffee maker appeared on the narrow counter next to the stove. It cost $40 in 1971, which is equivalent of $320 in today’s money. My parents lived frugally, but if Ma really wanted something, Dad would make the funds available. (We had one of the very first microwave ovens, the one that looked like a conventional range, but included microwave capability in the oven cavity. It also was extremely expensive compared to a standard oven.)
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The Mr. Coffee machine was invented by Vince Marrotta, an engineer who sought to solve the problem of coffee becoming bitter when the basket of grounds was left in a coffee percolator too long. The result was a machine that would heat water to the perfect temperature (200 degrees Fahrenheit), and then control its flow over the grounds for the exactly the right length of time.
Our Mr. Coffee machine, however, was very rarely used to make a pot of coffee.
Dad realized that he could use the Mr. Coffee to make his tea. He got up early for work and so would fill the carafe with water and run it through the machine without anything in the basket. He’d then leave the burner on so the water stayed hot(ish) for Ma’s coffee—a teaspoon of Folgers instant and two tiny white tablets of saccharin. When the water got low, she’d run another carafe through. Dad would turn the machine off before he went to bed.
What Dad gained in convenience, peace, and quiet, however, he surely sacrificed in taste.
To brew tea properly, water has to be oxygenated to a certain point, which happens between 208-212 degrees F. You’re also supposed to let a tea bag steep 3-5 minutes and I know that never happened. So what Dad was drinking was basically light brown hot water with milk and sugar. This didn’t seem to bother him. Dad had a serious sweet tooth so I suspect he was in it primarily for the sugar. The hot water, tea dust, and milk were just accomplices.
From that day forward, on the countertop in my parents’ kitchen, was a coffee machine of some sort, its carafe full of hot water; a small jar of instant coffee and a dish full Lipton tea bags in the cupboard; and in a cut glass sugar bowl, some pink packets of Sweet and Low, which in later years Dad used instead of table sugar: doctor’s orders.
In December of 2014, my parents left their home and went to live with my sister, and the always on coffee-water pot was no more. And then in 2016, Dad (April) and Ma (August), also were no more.
Today, there is a coffee maker on our counter. A programmable Hamilton Beach 12-cup that cost $25 (about the same as a 12-cup Mr. Coffee).
I use it in the morning to make a half pot of Lavazza Classico, strong enough to stand a spoon up in it so it is not diluted by the generous pour of half-and-half and a pump of sugar-free salted caramel syrup.
There is also an electric tea kettle. It makes an low, angry, rattling noise when the water boils and shuts off automatically once it reaches temperature. My husband and I use it to make tea. PG Tips for him and Ty-Phoo for me, both brands recommended by a British-born friend.
I pour the water over the bag and set a timer for four minutes. I put a few tablespoons of milk (not half and half) into a cup and microwave it for a few seconds to take off the chill. When the bell rings, I remove the sachet, stir in too much some table sugar and then add the milk. I actually like a properly made cup of tea better than coffee, and I bet Dad would like it made this way, too.
We could afford to upgrade the coffee maker.
But my husband doesn’t often drink coffee, and, like my Dad, I’m in it primarily for the cream and syrup. The coffee’s just for cover.
And, it just wouldn’t be the same.