That one soul-soothing, warmth-distributing, bitter, and sweet taste gifted by the roasting and grinding of tropical beans.  There is nothing so perfect.  It is one individual ingredient that can boast a significant level of perfection in all the stages it reached before it arrived in my kitchen. But it is not over. It then still assigns a serious responsibility upon me.  I have the opportunity to respectfully carry through this fantastic journey or to make all of those previous efforts worthless.

I would like to think that my efforts have been worthy of this beautiful spoil of the tropics.  I was brought up to use gas stoves from the 1940s and 50s to percolate a fine brew on a daily basis.  It is a simple process, but if even the basic common sense is not considered, the failure is complete.

I have used my fair share of mindless plastic and glass electric coffee makers, selling my soul for convenience.  We all have those days in which as the day begins, any effort is too much.  Upon finding a nice warm pot, kicking off my digital timer on my kitchen counter, gratitude overflowed within me.

I love the French press because it, like the percolator, yields the entire essence of the brew, including the oils that paper filters leave behind. Coffee syringes, and espresso makers in their many forms have been entertaining and have been interesting in their never-ending methods to reach the destination.

The one method that is so simple has proved to be more complex than I could have imagined is the pour-over.  They come in various forms costing anywhere from a couple of dollars, up to an infinite amount based on material composition and aesthetics. This method is really the electric coffee maker without the electric and without the coffee maker.  It is a plastic basket, a paper filter, and grounds that water gets poured through. Simple right?

With ten months of this year behind me, I can tell you that the majority of my morning coffee was made in the pour-over. I have learned from the dramatically different results that details really matter.  First, the paper cone-shaped filter that is in the funnel is wet with water that is over 150 degrees. When it comes to adding the coffee I always thought, more coffee, more flavor.  But this is not true. There is a balance that somehow, a measurement warning silently goes off inside of me when I have reached that optimal level of coffee grounds.  I have put this to the test and it is so precise that it is granular.

Next comes the bloom.  It is where the just-under-boiling water is poured into the grounds until they rise into a snow cone-shaped bloom…and stop.  It is important that nothing happens for at least the next 30 seconds.  I am sure we can conduct real studies to unfold all of the science that supports why this step is so important and fruitful, but I don’t care.  We are so close to that morning joy.

Now, with the kettle in one hand and teaspoon in the other, the water is slowly poured again, but this time, the grounds are gently swirled in a circle, floating in a whirlpool for 20ish seconds.  It is important to not do this too long because we want those coffee grounds to settle back into the filter so that as much water as possible can now pass through the activated coffee.

Continue to slowly stream the water circularly until the water is close to the top and then walk away.  Once it stops a running stream, what is left behind is refuse. And that’s how it is done.  With too many grounds, the coffee is weak and miserable, too little, weak again.  No bloom, weak in a different way. Swirl too long, bitterness. Drip too long, bitterness.  The notes all must be played correctly or the day starts off with failure. 

As I poured the grounds into the filter yesterday morning, noticing how everything in me tells me when to stop or if I need just a few grams more, I instantly wondered, how many signals do I ignore just like this during the day? Or how many things do I put too much effort into hoping for a significant return, when all I really needed to do was to hold back a bit?  Is it that simple?

 Paying attention to the effort invested can be very revealing.  A couple of weeks ago, I put together a family favorite meal, homemade chicken and broccoli over rice.  It is a delicious Chinese savory meal that never disappoints.  As I made the sauce, which is the most involved, multi-ingredient part, I placed a bowl right next to the one I was working with and made two of them side by side.  The extra effort was minuscule. I then poured the 2nd sauce mix into ice cube trays and froze them, transferring these cubes to a Ziploc bag the next day.

It was a rewarding return on investment this week, when weeknight’s lack of ambition to cook set in, and this step was already done.  I feel there are so many things in our lives like this that can help us get to where we want to be, without the exhaustive effort that we often feel it could take to get there.

These subtle prizes can be anywhere, from deciding that there are five two-dollar items that buying 1 extra of on shopping day can save a trip into town many times over, to yes, setting up and programming the timer coffee maker if you use one.  

How do we identify the less is more factor?  I think it is different for everyone.  The goal is, not to do more, but to free up time to do the things that are more important.