I remember mornings at my grandparents house, sitting at the tiny round table in the kitchen, drinking hot cups of coffee. My grandma loved coffee and served it to us at a very young age. No doubt I have her to thank for my obsession. She brewed her coffee on the stovetop, in a green percolator.
When I think of early childhood memories with my grandma, it's often just that. Her kitchen, cooking breakfast for us, making coffee in that percolator.
There is a local thrift/antique store that I have been meaning to go into for a while. Last week I had a bit of time to kill between errands, so the boys and I took a quick stroll through that store. I came out with several treasures, but my favorite by far is my new (old) percolator.
This morning, I abandoned my coffee pot and French press, and prepared my coffee on the stovetop, in the percolator. It tasted better. Not because it was superior coffee, but because it reminded me of my childhood, and my grandma, and of a simpler time.
*The adorable hot pad in the photo was a gift from my friend Melissa*