Watch out! I had a roommate once who went down this road. His story reads like a cautionary tale for coffee snobs. Maybe Tom is right and you should just take your cup of joe and move along?
We were innocent coffee-lovers and lucky to have a good coffee house close by. The baristas were beautiful and they served all the right blends - Kenya AA, Ethiopia Yirgacheffe, Sumatra, and Jamaica Blue . . . we would drink it there or take home bags of freshly ground, and press it at home, or put it through the Italian coffee maker our neighbor owned.
Then, by degrees, my friend lost his grip. The water in the French press had to be some temperature "just under boiling" because the aromatic oils would volatilize under the heat. Soon after he ordered his own coffee roaster and started making small batches. He stored the roasted beans in special bags to allow gases to escape, and then turned them into coffee only when it was perfect. He kept his timing immaculate.
When the roaster finally overheated and exploded, he started using a popcorn maker to keep his fix going. He decided it was even better, but by then he was already fully insane. He started making important life decisions while he was grumpy and waiting to get coffee - he would rock back and forth mumbling, standing like a brute in his piss stained pants lashing out at anyone who was naturally happy.
When he left he was headed for the mountains somewhere in Northern California. He talked a lot about walking the earth and going back to nature. He had become the Last of the Dogmen and was never seen again.
Rest in peace, CMF Leroy.
