I only wish it were true…

It’s just not true. I wish it were, but I know it’s not. There is this notion, spread by well-meaning but overly enthusiastic olim, that these days, whatever you want, whatever you need, you can find it here in The Land. Sure, you might be able to get it cheaper by having it sent on Amazon, and, OK, English language books you pretty much have to have shipped in, but everything else…There are many things I can’t get here, but I won’t bore you with a recitation of a host of esoteric items. However, number one on my wish list is a quality coffee grinder designed for home use. (There, I’ve said it.)

I can already here the cries from the Peanut Gallery: Don’t they sell those things in Israel? And, why do you need one anyway – especially during these times of existential angst? It’s true, most coffee drinkers don’t have their own grinder, even serious caffeinophiles. I’ve witnessed customers walk into Power Coffeeworks and leave with a bulging bag of the finest coffee – already ground for them, which would take weeks or even months to consume, no matter how overstimulated they intend to get. So what’s the deal?

Let me take a step back in time and do a little explaining. (I’m good at that!) Think about the typical coffee experience in the land of my birth. People walk into luncheonettes, diners, truck stops, hash houses, greasy spoons, cafeterias, 7-11’s, even restaurants that should know better, and what kind of coffee are they served? The kind no one should have to drink, made from lackluster beans, roasted and ground ages before, prepared in large batches to be heated and reheated, further ruining whatever subtle flavors there were to start with. No wonder Starbucks is crowded with people ordering caramel frappuccinos and the like.

There was a time here in The Land when coffee meant ‘nes’ (Nescafé instant) or ‘botz’ (cheap Turkish coffee that looks like mud), and those are undoubtedly what most Israelis drink in the privacy of their homes to this day. But when they go out? These days, there is no place in Israel serving coffee that does not have a shiny machine working ‘round the clock to make espressos and cappuccino-type drinks. You want an americano? They’ll pull an espresso and dilute it with hot water. (They’ll even make you a ‘nes’ or a ‘botz’ if you ask them nicely.)

Awash in coffee

There I was, awash in coffee all through The Land, good coffee, sometimes really good coffee, ground just for me the moment I ordered my latte. Why not go for it, up my game and try to duplicate that experience in the comfort of my kitchen – at least the grinding part? (Making actual espresso in one’s home is not for the faint of heart or the mechanically challenged.)

There came a time when Brandon (THE Brandon of Power Coffeeworks) was able to offer several Hario hand grinders for sale. (I wouldn’t say ‘entry level’; maybe ‘knocking on the door, hoping to get in.’) Unlike better quality products, this little device has no markings to indicate its settings, so Brandon tinkered with the one he sold me so it would grind properly for the kind of pourover I would be doing in my kitchen. He showed me how to readjust it for other brewing methods, but there’s no way I’m going to touch it. (See above.)

And I was happy. Well, sort of. The little gizmo ground well enough for a decent – not great – cup of coffee. But let’s describe the user experience as ‘labor intensive.’ I also have in my stash of stuff an electric ‘grinder,’ the kind with two little blades sticking up that would chop the beans into submission. I had a choice: one device that would produce an OK result with a lot of work and another that was easy to use, but the end result was not up to snuff. There had to be a better way, and I knew what it was. (You can probably figure it out for yourself with a little reflection.)

But you sold it to me!

I remember the old days back in The States when I wanted to buy a car, a washing machine, a lawn mower, a set of pots and pans, a toothbrush. I did what almost everybody else did, sit down with a stack of old Consumer Reports, and obsess about what to buy. These days, it’s reviews on YouTube, but it’s the same principle: people whom you think might know better than you do offering their advice – often contradictory. To make matters worse, there is the great 120/220v. electrical divide. It did me no good to learn about grinders that were only available for the American market. Almost no good. In the end, I bought a Wilfa grinder (made in Norway) for myself and a Baratza grinder (based in Seattle) for my brother, because why not spread the joy?

And I was happy. My Wilfa was easy to calibrate for any kind of brew method, easy to use (just turn it on), and it made a damn good cup of coffee. Until it forgot what it was supposed to do a year or so later.

If something doesn’t work, complain to the outfit where you bought it, in this case, a company in Finland. I was not prepared for their response. You don’t live in a E.U. company, so we’re not responsible. BUT YOU SOLD IT TO ME!!! You didn’t read the fine print. Life’s too short to deal with this attitude, so…

It’s called Square A, as in ‘back to.’  What to do? I thought and thought and thought. I would need to import a grinder, but one that couldn’t possibly break, so I wouldn’t have to worry about a warranty and some snot-nosed company not honoring it because I live more than 200 meters above sea level – or some other excuse. I remembered that there were serious hand grinders on the market, the kind that coffee afficionados would be proud to show off. Since a manual device has no motor, no electronic parts, it should last for a generation or two. But which one should I buy? Back to square B, otherwise known as YouTube. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about 120/220v. (I would still have to deal with is this model meant for an espresso grind or pourover, but I can deal with that.) After several weeks of concentrated pondering, I ordered a high-end model from a Taiwanese outfit called IZpresso.

Keep turning the handle…

And I was happy. It did require some effort, as in keep turning the handle, but it was a lot more efficient than the little Hario, and it made better coffee. I even packed it in its travel case and brought it in to show all the folks at Powers Coffeeworks, who were collectively suitable impressed.  Until it, in turn, stopped doing what it was supposed to. (Are you sensing a pattern here?) When the device first arrived, I had to do a little monkeying to make the ‘zero’ on one piece align with the red dot on another piece, but even I could do that. Until one afternoon, the grinder went on strike, the red dot and the “0’ no longer being on speaking terms, so, no matter what I did, it wouldn’t grind. I took the thing apart, and I and then Barbara took turns, following the directions meticulously, reassembling it – to no avail. OK. Let’s call A.J. He’s very handy (having worked at one time as a car mechanic). I’m sure he can figure out what to do. Well, no, he couldn’t. He tried and tried and tried, but no matter what, he couldn’t realign my grinder.

We’re having a problem on our end…

In an act of sheer desperation, I sent an email to the company in Taiwan. And, surprise, surprise, I got an answer back from ‘Chandler.’ What’s the problem? Try explaining long distance why a little device doesn’t work. So they asked for a picture. Then they asked for a video. Thanks to Ezra and Shoshana, I was able to condense a video file and send it to ‘Chandler’ and his buddies. Would help be on its way?

The upshot was an offer to sell me a part that might or might not fix the problem. The issue was not the $30 (plus another $10) for shipping. IZpresso doesn’t have courier service to Israel. Could I provide an address elsewhere – in some other corner of the world? I wasn’t happy, but…… Our friend Iris was about to head off to The States (to rural Georgia, of all places). We’ll have it sent to where she will be staying, and she can bring it back with her. It’s a little piece, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

I filled out the form online, but wouldn’t you know it, there was a problem. (There always seems to be a problem.) Something to do with the phone number. I don’t think they assumed it was the ‘wrong’ number; it had to do with the way it was formatted.

Imagine if one could collect all the frustration, all the negative energy expended over a 24-hour period by people trying to input information into recalcitrant websites. You might be able to power a small nuclear device and blow up the internet. Let’s see: remove all the dashes between the numbers; no. Put parentheses around the area code; no. Add a 1 before the number; add an 01; try +1; try +01; try every possible permutation and combination imaginable; no.

Chandler, we’re having a problem on our end. How does one format a phone number on your order form to make it work?

What’s the one response you never want to get? No one else seems to be having that problem. (Thank you; that’s a big help.) Even in moments of greatest frustration and despair, I resist the temptation to do physical damage to my beloved 27” iMac. (I know it’s not my computer’s fault) Let’s try again; maybe there’s something I overlooked. And now what was I told? Cannot validate the nonce, that’s what.

It’s good to have friends; it’s good to have friends who know things. Ron explained that nonces were things that went into the development of computer programs, and, as I suspected, should never appear on the screen of a befuddled end-user. NEVER!

And so I thought about it. I might or might not need a new part, but either way, they couldn’t ship it to me in Israel. Their website was all messed up. I also noticed that ‘Israel’ wasn’t included in the dropdown list of countries for the billing address. Maybe I’m witnessing some passive-aggression from the folks at IZpresso, or maybe I’m just barking up the wrong tree. Whatever it was, let’s take the $40 and invest it in a different product. As I’ve explained, life’s too short, and my coffee is getting cold.

Back to Square A

Remember ‘Square A,’ my point of departure awhile ago? It had been several years since I had done my research. Maybe good things had happened while I was busy with my life. Well, yes, there are some new coffee grinders on the market; actually lots of new ones, according to my YouTube sources. What’s good; what’s available now, not in three months (because production was stopped for Chinese New Year); how much is it prudent for me to spend without incurring the wrath of the family treasurer; and will the grinder work in our kitchen, not my brother’s in Massachusetts? And where can I find the winning candidate online?

I will not regale you with all the ins and outs of my search (you have better things to do with your time), but I settled on the latest iteration of the Baratza grinder – now available in 220v – I had purchased for my brother. The price is modest (?!), and it’s available now. I located a company in Germany, CAPTNCoffee, that was prepared to send the model I want to me in Israel via DHL, a notably reliable German shipping company. And so I took out my credit card, filled out the information online, and holy moly, it worked. So far, so good.

A week later, the company thought to send me a link to the DHL tracking information. After wandering from airport to airport in Germany, the package was sent to Prague, and then bundled onto a plane headed our way. Then nothing for a week. I’m sure the plane landed safely at Ben-Gurion; most cargo planes do. Did my precious grinder get lost? Damaged in transit? Borrowed? Stolen? Finally, word that it was being inspected in Customs.  But now I was getting messages from the Israeli post office. Oh no! Does that mean that the locals are now handling my package? I was hoping for delivery before Pesach. With our mail service on the job, we’ll be lucky to get it before Rosh Hashana, and it is unlikely to arrive at my door, or even the local doar. Ezra!, I’m going to need you to drive me to hell-and-gone to pick it up.

After pondering the matter for a while, I began to understand what was going on. (I do not intend to go out on a limb and say ‘it makes sense’; that would be a stretch.) The only way the government can get its sticky fingers on its share of the proceeds, a/k/a Customs, is to have the post office get involved. Which, on the bright side, might mean arrival at the actual post office in the mall, not one of the package drop-off places scattered throughout the town. (I may not need you after all, Ezra!)

Meanwhile, it says that my little Baratza has passed inspection at Customs and has been sent to the clearing center in Modiin. That was several days ago. Are we taking bets on how long it will take to arrive in our fair city? We still have several weeks to go until Pesach. I’m hopeful – which is not the same as being optimistic. Only time will tell. (Well, I will say something when it does show up. Please be patient.)