Going Almodovar

I bought one thing that I thought might just belong in an Almodovar-style kitchen. It’s an Italian coffee maker, one that Wikipedia seems to be referring to as the “Moka Express.”

It goes right on the stovetop. When the water in the bottom boils, it shoots up through an inordinate amount of coffee grounds and then out a spout into the top compartment, from which you pour the coffee. It is always strong, and in my house often comes out burned to boot.

Maybe the reason I thought this qualified as an “Almodovar” coffee maker is that I once bought one like this in a Spanish grocery store. Granted, the Spanish grocery store was located in a French-speaking neighborhood in Montreal, and I bought it on the suggestion of a Greek friend who said it reminded her of a great aunt who could tell fortunes in coffee grounds. So it is, at least, a very multicultural artifact. When I brought this new one home yesterday from a Latin grocery near my apartment, it pleased my Dutch room mate. So there you go — Almodovar is, if nothing else, eclectic.

Now after that exercise in justification I will sit down and watch Volver. With an eye out of course for the “Moka Maker” and/or its distant Spanish cousin.