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The sleek, 110-pound apparatus looked like an unassuming espresso
maker. Although it is fully automated, it still requires some moves,
which in-store trainer Chris Kornman showed me.
After weighing and grinding the beans—the coveted Hacienda La Esmeralda Geisha
from Panama—I adjusted the Clover’s settings for cup size, time, and
temperature. Intelligentsia’s quality-control team at its central roasting works
in the city determines the settings for its top five beans every week. A cheat
sheet is taped to the side of the Clover to aid baristas. After I poured the
ground coffee onto the filter screen just below the attached hot-water spigot
and pressed the start button, the pistoned screen descended into the brewing
chamber and hot water flowed in. I gently agitated the mixture with a flat
silicone whisk.
In 42 seconds, the filter screen rose up, bringing with it a patty
of coffee grounds, which I squeegeed into the waste slot, leaving an amateur’s
sloppy trail I had to wipe down.
The finished coffee streamed out automatically from a spout
underneath the control panel. Even before my initial sip, the deep chocolate
color and rich aroma drew me close. I suddenly remembered my first whiff of
ground coffee as a kid. My introduction to Clover-made coffee was exactly what
I’d wished for from that childhood scent. It had full body, remarkable clarity,
and bright acidity. I thought, “This has ruined me for all other coffee.”
You probably can’t afford a Clover, nor could you fit one in your
kitchen.
Illustrations by Bryan Christie Design |
