Perked Coffee n’ Fried Egg Sandwiches

Waking up to: In Spite of Ourselves,  John Prine and Iris DeMent

Mornings: dark.  Light over the stove is on, casting a soft yellow glow over the kitchen.  The house is silent.  Percolator is chattering away, burbling, bubbling, much “perkier” in the morning than I am.  Thomas Z. Cat is sitting at my stocking-clad feet as I pour a cup of coffee, waiting for me to make my way to the sofa so he can get his morning snuggle. 

The only reason I ever went with drip coffee makers was because I wanted fresh coffee at 5 am without having to get up at 4:50 am and brew it.  I bought a programmable drip coffee maker, when what I really need is a personal assistant.  Living in my kitchen.  And a percolator that the personal assistant living in my kitchen could use to brew coffee for me at ten to 5 in the morning.

My foray into the world of drip coffee makers led to water stains on the kitchen counter, an endless sea of broken carafes, and not near enough coffee ready and waiting for me in the morning.  It wasn’t worth the “convenience” factor. 

This week I bought a Farberware 12 cup percolator.  Just like all my grandmas had.  Just like I used to have before I succumbed to the temptation of automation. 

I compromised a little on the personal assistant living in my kitchen.  I really wanted one, but instead I bought a lamp timer so I can still have my coffee ready when I get up.  Next best thing, I guess.

There are three things you (or your personal assistant) must know when using a percolator:

1. Grind your coffee coarse
2. Fill the pot with water so that the water does NOT touch the basket
3. Use less coffee than with a drip coffee maker.

Fried Egg Sandwiches

About once a week I have to go out and load a half ton of hay (12 bales) on a flatbed trailer.  Then I drive out first to “the boys’ pen” where our geldings live.  Stack the hay, 3 bales on the bottom, 3 on top, then set the feeder over the top.  From there we loop around to the field to feed “The Girls (and Axel)”.  Same thing — rattle out to the middle of their field, stack the hay, set the feeder over the top.  No blankets or down booties in the world can make you feel as cozy and indulgent as knowing your horses have a constant food source. 

This time of year the horses are all fuzzy and soft.  When you go to pet their necks you can bury your fingers deep in the pile of their coats, almost until your fingers disappear. 

Then it’s time to come in, enjoy some more coffee, and have a Fried Egg Sandwich for breakfast.