What?
Nespresso Vertuo (£199, nespresso.com). Centrifugal extractor with reservoir annexe and pressurised dispenser. Hot water forced through tubbed grounds creates coffee.
Why?
Cuppa java, minus the palaver? We’re fresh out of that.
Well?
I hate my friends. They’re always trying to get me to shower and leave the house, or “re-engage with the human race”. If I give in, they inevitably take me to some independent coffee shop they know, and speak to the staff in a foreign language. American Gibraltars, Chemex pour-over, soy-frothed dry cap; words that should by rights see them delivered of a soy-frothed dry slap. There must be a way to obtain decent coffee, the official drink of capitalism, with no social contact at all? That’s where pod coffee comes in.
I’m staring at Nespresso’s Vertuo, which uses a centrifuge to extract flavours from coffee grounds. While they’re recyclable, individual coffee portions housed in aluminium pods seems like a harbinger of the death of the earth. Plus, I have the unpleasant sensation the machine thinks its smarter than me. Yet I’m drawn to it, the way we are to the confident. I gormlessly admire the rise and fall of its electric hood, auto-ejecting the previous capsule when opened. (The spent pellet – pod cast? – is lifted and dropped into a chamber at the back. What a thrill ride for the little fella.)
The capsules are captivatingly pretty and metallic. Am I “highly intense and powerful” (Diavolitto) or “rich and strong” (Stormio)? I settle for Solelio’s “fruity and light-bodied”, because who am I kidding? It heats in less than 20 seconds, dispensing a tall cup with astonishing crema: an absolute mattress of bubbles, smoother in the mouth than Clooney. This micro-foam drip constitutes a microphone drop – the final word in little luxury. It’s almost sarcastically good. The machine knows what size drink to make by reading a barcode on each pod – so it is smarter than me. This is my nightmare, a haughty barista in my home that won’t make me pumpkin-spiced anything, who my friends love coming round to see. Ah well. At least it’s in this cool little spot called my house, which I never need to leave.
Any Downside?
Old Nespresso capsules won’t work in Vertuo. So, a fun way to look at it is as the entry point to a proprietary ecosystem, with upgrade treadmill. Delicious!
Counter, drawer, back of the cupboard?
Covfefe without the faff. 4/5
- This article was amended on Thursday 26 October. It originally incorrectly stated that the Nespresso pods were made of plastic, rather than aluminium.
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