July 12, 2020
I am not a fan of drinking coffee from modern machines. As usual, we exhaust ourselves cleaning the apartment on Sundays and I take a long nap right after. When I woke up, I could only think that a fresh cup of coffee was the only fuel able to lift my lazy spirit.
So I did it. My morning’s best friend “Bialetti” made an afternoon’s appearance and not only did it cheer me up again but it also resonated a deep long memory out of my heart: the pleasant sensation of the coffee aroma I used to smell at my grandmother’s house.
How can one forget such a tender memory? It's just impossible. These familiar feelings we grew up with are the most divine to remember. Until the last day of my grandmother’s life, she refused to use anything but an old sock in which she would pour the coffee powder. Although my brother and I made fun of it for years, now I get it: a good recipe to keep a family tradition alive in our hearts.