french_pressThe subject of my—admittedly expensive—coffee habit has been the cause of much ado lately. While I’d like to say it’s much ado about nothing, the simple fact is that I was spending approximately $112 dollars a month on coffee alone—which, on one hand, is ridiculous.

On the other hand, however, it was money I was more than happy to spend. Walking half a mile each way for a four-dollar skim latte added exercise to my newly-sedentary Midwestern life. Plus, it was an extra mile of walking (plus doggie socializing) for my mutt Jack. Best of all, though, it was a chance for a work recluse like myself to get out and interact with friendly baristas and—if I was lucky—bearded coffee connoisseurs. And because I patronized a local, independent coffee shop I was not only supporting fair trade, I was stimulating the local economy, which is an issue very close to my heart.

But when we started this project, I knew it was time to dust off (and wash out, don’t worry) the old Bodum.

I got my French press a few years back, after I asked my dad to get me one for Christmas. I’d spent the previous summer happily sipping French-pressed coffee on lucky weekends at my then boyfriend’s parents’ second home in New York’s Hudson Valley. That kind of setting is the perfect place to go to the trouble of pressing coffee; it was the kind of place I’d lie in bed (and do other things) for hours in the morning before even thinking of making my way downstairs to the kitchen. Another 10 minutes to make coffee? No problem.

Naturally, I was super excited to try out my Bodum in Brooklyn. Days after I donated my drip coffee maker to the Goodwill, however, I realized the error of my ways. In the country, pressing coffee was charming. In the city—where I was working full time and taking five classes to finish my degree—it didn’t make sense. I quickly forged a relationship with the coffee cart guy I passed every day on my way to the subway and thus my expensive coffee habit was formed.

Even when I had finished school and quit my job to freelance (or maybe especially because of those things) I went to the coffee shop every morning. Every morning until we started this project June 1, that is. Working from home is isolating. While I’m happy to not have to deal with people all day, not interacting with anyone for 14 hours can get to me. Plus—though I work out at 7:30 at least four mornings a week and have about 17 jobs—I am an inherently lazy person… in some ways. I’m happy to walk half a mile and hand a hipster four dollars as long as I don’t have to wash the press (because you know I don’t do it the day before) boil water, grind beans, wait for water to boil, pour water over the grinds, wait four minutes, stir, press and finally—finally!—drink coffee that I hope is good because I can never be bothered to measure the beans or water.

Of course, on the occasions I hosted brunch I was more than happy to show off my French pressing skills, and if I had an overnight gentleman caller I wasn’t going to let him know that I didn’t do this very sophisticated thing for myself every single morning.

But now I do.

It is said that you have to do something 28 times before it becomes a habit, and I think I’ve passed that mark pressing my own coffee. While I sometimes wait until 1 p.m. to get started and less frequently still drop four dollars here and there for an iced skim latte, French pressing my coffee is no longer something I have to do. Well, it is, but it’s something I have to do that I’m happy to do, even if I still wait until the next day to wash the press. Plus, for far less than four dollars (I haven’t done the exact math) I get, like, six cups of coffee.

Next step: stop pressing Dunkin’ Donuts coffee (why is it so damn good?) and start pressing coffee from my local, independent coffee shop, even if it costs me a little more. It’s time to practice what I preach. Oh, and master the art of food photography, but that’s another post for another day.

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