Beatrice is down again

Beatrice is the espresso machine. She is a lever machine, which makes her more opinion than appliance, and this morning her opinion is no.

It happens when the air goes heavy. The group runs cool, the shots pull thin and sour, and no amount of talking to her helps. So we chalk a sign on the bar that reads batch brew only, and we wait. Number Nine is roasting away in the back, perfectly content, which Beatrice does not appreciate being reminded of.

She always comes back. By early afternoon, usually, with no explanation and no apology. We do not replace her and we do not threaten to. A machine that has run this long has earned the right to a bad morning, the same as anyone.

If you came in for a flat white and left with a cup of the Yirgacheffe instead, that was Beatrice's call, not ours. Take it up with her. She is right there on the counter, and she is listening.