What the process of making coffee with an Aeropress means for rituals

My first (and only) coffee machine was $60 from Walmart. I can’t remember the brand and it stuck with me for the past five years. Overtime, I used it less and less. Worse, I didn’t clean it at all! After a while, the thought of using the machine bothered me. I knew I could just give it a rinse, buy better grounds, and continue to use it, but for whatever reason I chose not to.

In the past 8 months, I became quite the fan of espresso. Likening to my love for cigars, espresso was a whole new flavor profile that pushed me to think about coffee deeply. Anytime I found myself at a coffee shop, I challenged myself with an espresso, trying my hardest to improve my palette. With my newfound hobby and my distaste for my coffee machine, I sought out an opportunity to splurge a bit and purchase an espresso machine.

What I didn’t realize was just how much I’d have to splurge.

“$500 for something basic”, was the sentiment I was picking up between different blogs and videos. Nespresso was out of the picture for me since I wanted to use my own grounds and any of the “affordable” machines were, apparently, crap. My search continued to disappoint until I learned about the Aeropress.

No electronics, could brew drip coffee or "espresso-like" concoctions, and cost only $35. I was sold.

It was around this time that I learned that “espresso” wasn’t just a type of coffee, but actually denoted the process by which said coffee was made. So, the compromise with an Aeropress is being able to have something like espresso but without it actually being espresso. For $35, I didn’t care.

Alongside the Aeropress, I decided to get a hand grinder and some whole bean coffee. Grinding up whole beans means fresh. After everything arrived, I brewed my first cup…

Ground the beans.
Put the filter on the puck.
Tightened the puck onto the bottom piece.
Setup the grounds in the well.
Boiled the water.
Poured the water in.
Pressed with the top piece.

After all this, how did it taste?

I’d be lying if I said it tasted immaculate. It was alright. Pretty good.

Yet, the more important question is: how did it feel?

Surprisingly, amazing.

What I never found myself feeling after sipping a measly cup of black coffee with a tablespoon of half-and-half was satisfaction. Most times I drink coffee, someone else made it. At work, we have a crew of amazing employees that keep the coffee brewing. I go downstairs, grab a cup, pour, and drink. Even at home, before my falling out with my old coffee machine, I’d add water, a couple spoons of grounds, and hit brew. At no point is there a feeling of satisfaction. Sure, there’s enjoyment. In both cases, coffee is being drank. I do look forward, at least, to the coffee at work. But there isn’t the same satisfaction that comes from those cups of coffee made with my Aeropress.

I’ve identified that the reason is because of its ritual. The process I have to go through to make 8-10 oz of black coffee with an Aeropress is arguably longer and more complex than with a regular coffee machine, and much more than purchasing a cup. Alongside the number of steps, is the care that must be given to each step of that process.

After I used the Aeropress a few times, I started looking for some tips and tricks online. I discovered a whole new world to make these three pieces of plastic dramatically improve the taste of my coffee.

Now the process is:
Boil the water.
Setup the top piece just ever so slightly into the bottom piece.
Flip both pieces upside down (we’ll call this a “well”).
Grind the beans.
Put two filters on the puck.
Dampen the puck with water.
Pour the grounds into the well.
Shake the well in such a way to even out the grounds.
After the water is done boiling, pour only 3 oz into the well.
Stir 3-4 times.
Wait 2 minutes for “blooming”.
Pour the rest of the water in.
Stir 3-4 times.
Wait 1 minute.
Tighten the puck onto the top of the well.
With one swift move, flip the well right side up, onto the mug without spilling.
Quickly, but gently and with even pressure, press.

More steps, but more fun. More steps, and more complex. More complexity means that I have to be that much more focused. We went from boiling water, grounds, and pressing to “blooming” and “flipping things right side up”. It takes more skill, and it didn’t go well the first few times. No longer can I hit “brew” and go off to do something else, I have to be there, I have to grind the beans, and more importantly flip that damn well right side up! Every now and then, when I get lazy, I spill coffee when I don’t “flip it right”. And when I’m in a hurry at times, I press too hard and cause the coffee to spill, because adding just one more filter makes it that much more important to “press slowly”.

This is not efficient, especially considering that the coffee isn’t that much better. It’s a bit better sure, but not so much so that the extra 15 minutes it takes is worth it, if we measured worth by value over time. Factor in that this is 15 minutes for one cup of coffee compared to 4-6 cups of coffee with a machine; what I gain from the Aeropress is the ritual, and from the ritual, satisfaction.

Rituals provide us a way to participate in the end we are trying to achieve.

The coffee from the Aeropress and the coffee from work are of the same quality. The first takes 15 minutes before the first sip of the first cup. The second takes 60 seconds before the first sip of the first cup. However, the second one does not allow me to partake in the process of getting me to the position upon which I can now enjoy the coffee. No, someone else did that. I merely partake in drinking the coffee. Doing it myself with an Aeropress however allowed me to partake in the making of said cup and the drinking of it. There is something about joining in the process of creation that increases the enjoyment of the created.

I’d argue, this is a big reason people love the hobby of making espressos at home. There’s just so much to it. It’s easy to poke fun at some of the folks on YouTube that go through great lengths for 3 oz of bean water… but it’s the “going through great lengths” they’re after, not the bean water! To illustrate this further, let’s think about cigarettes and smoking from a pipe. Cigarettes are easy to smoke. You light it. You smoke it. It stays lit. You get your buzz and you move on.

Pipes on the other hand are hard - it’s a big reason most people don’t smoke them. You have to take the tobacco leaves out by hand, separate them, and then pack them into the bowl of the pipe. Pack them too tight, nothing burns. Pack them to loose, your bowl goes out too fast for you to enjoy. After packing it, you have to tamp it. After tamping you have to light it, but not just in any way; you have to light it in such a way so the bottom of the flame from your lighter touches the top of the bowl. Often times, you burn a knuckle or a finger tip from the way you hold the lighter. Even after you get the leaves burning, it goes out! You have to keep relighting, again and again.

It’s a pain, but a fun pain. It takes skill, and it makes it so that every time you sit on the patio and try again, you get better. You get so good eventually that this skill is now a part of your identity. It’s something you help others with and it’s something you take confidence in. No longer is smoking a pipe just a way to relax, it becomes a hobby.

Let’s take a healthier example like fresh produce. Most people, including myself, go to a store like Walmart, bag up some almost-ripe tomatoes, pay, and go home. If grocery stores are like cigarettes, then gardening would be the pipe. The same tomatoes (albeit probably worse looking) made in your backyard. The cost? Seeds, mulch, fertilizer, and sweat. It costs more money and time upfront than a grocery store visit, but overtime the costs go down and the satisfaction goes up. What starts as a way to grow your own food, becomes a lifestyle. You cease just “doing the act of gardening”, you become a gardener.

This to me is the beauty of the ritualization of activities. It turns what starts as a way to meet some end (drinking coffee, smoking tobacco) into something with a gradation of skill. Anywhere there is a gradation of skill, there is the opportunity to improve and conversely, to fail. It removes the binary of “do I have the thing I want or not” and turns it into “how close am I to achieving the thing I want and how well am I achieving it”. Often overlooked constants, like a cup of coffee, suddenly become an opportunity for growth. And growing and becoming better, feels good.

I have found that there is a hidden joy in stumbling blocks. Burnt knuckles and spilled coffee is not what anyone aims to find in their pursuit of puffing on tobacco or drinking coffee. But it is in the midst of running into these obstacles and then overcoming it that make your day that much more interesting. It has become a new found interest of mine to search for rituals: processes that require skill, forces me to slow down, and be concentrated on the now. Imagine the confidence that can be gained from doing the boring things that much better by merely making them into a ritual. have found that there is a hidden joy in stumbling blocks. Burnt knuckles and spilled coffee is not what anyone aims to find in their pursuit of puffing on tobacco or drinking coffee. But it is in the midst of running into these obstacles and then overcoming it that make your day that much more interesting. It has become a new found interest of mine to search for rituals: processes that require skill, forces me to slow down, and be concentrated on the now. Imagine the confidence that can be gained from doing the boring things that much better by merely making them into a ritual.