[Brewing coffee inside moka pot is a finicky art]

Teoh column: Brewing coffee inside moka pot is a finicky art

(originated from : http://www.sctimes.com/story/life/food/2014/09/03/teoh-column-brewing-coffee-inside-moka-pot-finicky-art/15004337/)

Moka pots, sometimes called a stovetop espresso maker, isn't really an espresso maker. It's a small (or large) steel pot, broken into three primary compartments: the lower compartment for water, a small filter and holder for the coffee grounds, and the top where the pressured brew is squeezed through and kept.

It's my most infuriating method of brewing right now, as it's really simple to execute but nightmarishly hard to brew a good cup of coffee.

The idea of the moka pot is to have heated water pushed up a small pipe due to pressure, through coffee grounds, upward into the container that then holds the brew.

In some ways it's similar to a vacuum pot in that both have relatively consistent heat and pressure, but where the vacuum pot has the grinds seeping in heated water, the moka pot has a short extraction period as the water is pushed past the coffee grinds rapidly with pressure.

While it's called the stovetop espresso machine or maker, it doesn't provide anywhere close to the same amount of pressure that espresso machines do. You're unlikely to get the creamy foamy layer known as crema from a moka pot, and it ordinarily has a lighter body than actual espresso.

The tricky thing about moka pots is that not only are there many different polarized recipes and approaches, each small variation is amplified in taste. I've even heard that moka pot recipes are sometimes considered family secrets in Italy. I'm not entirely convinced that's untrue.

Many recipes called for preheated water on low heat to brew the coffee. At the same time, other brewers swear by using cold water, with medium-high heat. I've found that this often heats up the coffee grounds as well and draws out the burnt taste more.

Some recipes ask for the coffee to be as coarse as they would be for a Chemex coffeemaker, while others recommend slightly coarser than an espresso grind. But the aftereffect of a coarser grind is a watery brew, while a fine grind might leak through the filter.

Most caution against tamping the grinds down, as that could create too much resistance during the brewing process. But tamping the grinds down also provide a longer extraction process, bringing more flavors out.

There are recipes that suggest keeping the lid closed; others ask to have it open. Numerous say to remove the pot from heat once gurgling from the water chamber is heard, while countless others say to keep it on low heat up until the brew starts looking light yellow.

Unlike a French press, a vacuum pot, or even an Aeropress where you can brew for a varying number of people, moka pots can only brew for the number of people it's sized for.

You can't buy a 3-cup moka pot and use it to brew less than three cups, as it requires the entire coffee grind holder to be filled in order to work properly.

In short, the moka pot is a rigid, finicky and frequently maddening method of brewing coffee.

I'm nearly convinced that I could tarnish and spoil a moka brew just by accidentally sneezing while standing by it.

But all the complaining and ranting aside, I've not had such great fun brewing coffee in recent memory. It feels like playing Sudoku with coffee, where every little change affects numerous other instances.

I predict it'll be many more columns before I find the recipe that suits my taste, and I'll stick with my tried-and-true brewing tools until then, but if you're a moka pot user and you have suggestions to send my way, message me on Twitter @jkteoh or email me at jteoh@stcloudtimes.com.

Until I figure it out though, I'm sticking to the Aeropress for my morning brews.