The (coffee) machine

I spent part of my vacation watching videos… about coffee machines. Although my current semi-automatic Breville made a decent espresso, I always felt it couldn’t reproduce the taste you get from a good machine in proper cafés.

The model I own, a Barista Express, is very popular. It’s already six years old, though. My neighbour, who has the same machine but a newer version, is still very satisfied with it. That newer model seems a bit more refined, and the boiler makes hotter coffee than what I got with mine.

Since I currently have some budget flexibility—which I suspect won’t last forever—I’ve started looking into the market to get a sense of what’s available. Should I stick with my Breville, or should I consider upgrading to a supposedly higher level?

First, I learned more about espresso techniques, which initially helped me get better results from my Barista Express. By learning to dose properly and understanding ratios, I managed to improve my coffee. But the temperature was never quite right—that’s the machine’s major weakness.

So I moved on to exploring other machines. I had set myself a modest budget, no more than $1,500—big mistake. The more I watched so-called expert influencer videos (and you quickly learn to distinguish genuine enthusiasts and realists from AI-generated salesmen), the more I realized that nothing is simple in the world of espresso.

There’s also a trend, a craze. And plenty of capitalist passion. I discovered the big brands: ECM/Profitec, Quick Mill, Lelit (acquired by Breville), La Marzocco, Faema, Rocket, Bezzera, Simonelli, Gaggia, Rancilio, and others. Then the Chinese models appeared: Gemilai, the surprising Meraki, Timemore, etc. All these prominent names started producing for consumers. While commercial espresso machines continue to thrive, the market is clearly shifting toward the domestic sector.

And to this glut of more or less luxurious models, add all the gear: grinders (said to be even more important than the espresso machine itself), distributors, tampers, baskets with more or fewer holes, puck screens (to help distribution and avoid “channeling” during extraction). And so on!

After many hours of watching videos, I had set my sights on a QuickMill Popup, a machine with an exceptionally attractive quality/features/, and price ratio. But then… aesthetics came into play. As much as I read Hindu philosophy and try to breathe as zen as possible, I’m still drawn to material things. The Popup was fine—but there were prettier ones…

I boasted to my neighbour that I was only looking, after all, and that I could keep living with my Breville. But after two weeks of my dropping comments into our conversations, he grew impatient and delivered the killer remark: “So, when are you buying your machine?”

Pop—the balloon of self-control. It was almost as if he allowed me to spend my own money. That’s when I revisited the many candidate machines (and more expensive ones), and one video locked my desire on the ECM Puristika.

It had everything I needed: a distinct aesthetic, minimal functionality (it only makes espresso—forgetting lattes, which I never drink), a price that was still reasonable (though it was over my budget), ECM’s reputation, and the traditional character of proper espresso extraction.

I added a Varia grinder (well-regarded but modestly priced) and a few accessories. Too expensive altogether, but well, I can still afford it before retirement. The machine might accompany me to my deathbed.

So, I gave in.

Full of remorse for the superficiality of it all.

And then—basta. YOLO.

I received the machine and bought slightly pricier coffee than usual. Of course, the first espressos weren’t excellent. I wanted to play barista, so now I need to master the technique.

Am I satisfied now? Of course, yes. Of course, no. I haven’t reached nirvana (do they even drink espresso there?). I’ve started buying little gadgets to improve my experience, to my neighbour’s great amusement—though he still enjoys the ristrettos I serve him.

So here I am, diving into the world of coffee exploration. I admit my palate usually only notices bitterness, acidity, and—well—coffee flavour. Detecting floral notes here, woody tones there, molasses or vanilla elsewhere? Pffft. Maybe I’m just a small-time bourgeois who can afford an espresso machine.

And yet, when the coffee turns out well, it gives me absolute joy. Same as with my bread—when the loaf comes out round and risen, I can’t help but be proud.

I discovered a whole world watching those videos. There really are people (mostly men) as passionate about coffee as others are about opening a car hood or leafing through cycling gear catalogues.

Many companies—Breville, Ninja, KitchenAid (yes, really!), De’Longhi, Gaggia, and many more—are redoubling their inventiveness to draw consumers beyond the Nespresso capsule. And as popularity grows, Chinese models appear, either copying or reusing the parts they manufacture for others, to offer good machines that make the traditional makers raise an eyebrow. Ah, the Chinese… just look at the Wendougee…

Although the Meraki or even the Meticulous very tempted me, I ultimately opted for a safe bet. After all, with a deep breath, you come back down to earth… and after my little refined caffeine dose, I sink into my padded armchair and slip into a short mindful meditation.