Letters to Things That Don't Need Letters (#5)

[Much thanks for reader Delphine Chevalier at Chez Mlle Delphine who suggested the earth-shattering idea that I should start numbering my letters...but if you are the creepy, thirsty guy she warded off, stay AWAY from her house!]

The previous sets of letters are #1, #2, #3, and #4.






Dear Cheaper Italian Espresso Pot:

When I purchased you in Rome as a literal last-minute impulse last April, I had no idea how well you would work. I never imagined that your no-name, no-brand status would actually function better than the Bialetti Espresso Maker I encountered before you. Early this week, I discovered that not only do you boil coffee faster, you also bring out the aromatic flavors more than your pricey cousin.

Had I known you had existed, I would have easily skipped purchasing the Bialetti pot and gotten 3 of you instead.



Dear Bialetti Espresso Maker:

No offense, old pal. I still like you, but you really haven't proven yourself to be worth the money I paid for you. I still remember the joy I felt when I first saw you in Italy. I had gone on vacation to the boot-shaped peninsula with a friend and had made it a personal goal to buy an authentic Italian espresso maker during my once-in-a-lifetime stay. This goal was inspired by my memories of my family once owning an Italian espresso maker that lasted for nearly 10 years. I was fed up with using the low-quality "Made in China" varieties and just wanted something that would last a little longer. I figured that because I was in Italy, I would be provided with an endless stream of espresso makers.


Boy, was I wrong. I first spent two days scouring Venice visiting the tourist essentials and I only managed to find ONE store that sold kitchen equipment; it was closed. Then, when my friend and I went to Rome, I miraculously found a shop that specialized in only Italian goods. There, I found a coffee pot and bought it with full confidence that it would be a bona fide 100% Italian product (I even asked the shopkeeper if the espresso maker was of Italian origin and he assured me that it was). I walked out of the shop, shopping bag proudly clutched in hand.

I then checked its packaging. Next to an image of the Union Jack, I read the words "Made in China."



Made in China.

Not Italy. CHINA.


I simply refused to leave Italy with a Chinese espresso maker.

It promptly went back to the store where I informed the respectable-looking elderly Italian shopkeeper that what he had sold me was not Italian. I won't forget that moment: his eyes bulged dangerously in his withered face, vein throbbing upon the temple. He turned to his co-worker and then, while viciously strangling the foreigner, started yelling in the Romance language I do not speak. I could only grasp that he was just as scandalized as I was that the coffee pot in his 100% Italian product store did not meet his required qualifications.





I promptly received his apologies and was given a full refund.


So Bialetti, you can understand how, after this ordeal, you became a long-lost hope in my eyes the moment I saw you. It was my last full day in the Italian capital and I simply needed to seize the desperate opportunity. Despite your hefty price, I bought you.


It wasn't until I was checking out of the hotel-campsite which I had stayed in for 3 days the following morning that I saw your much cheaper cousin. I decided to buy him too because I could not bear the insult of having scoured two espresso-makerless Italian cities only to notice on my last moment that it existed.

On top of that, once I returned to Dijon, I soon found a shop that sold coffee and tea items. There, in the display window, I saw one of your siblings. And he was cheaper than you.

How insulting is it to find that the same Italian espresso maker is cheaper in France than in its native Italy?

So, again, my friend, I have nothing against you. We share great memories together, but you just don't work as well as my other coffee maker. I'm not being an ingrate. I just honestly feel ripped off.

Dear Half-Pound:

Thank you for finally going away from my body after stagnantly lingering for over two weeks. I can now officially claim that I have lost a total of 20 pounds. You have truly frustrated me for two weeks. Please don't ever come back.

EVER.


Barb the French Bean

Coffee and French Beans's Grand Day Out!

Taking advantage of the rare opportunity of both being in the same town together, our Two Beans decided to meet up for a nice lunch of arepas (though decidedly not the disgusting aniseed ones).

French Bean prepared the white corn flour mix and began frying a few of these bits of culinary heaven until they were a golden brown...





...complete with plenty of melted gouda cheese!


After their stomachs were filled to capacity, they started a conversation:

Barb: "So, what do you wanna do?"

Hanny: "You wanna go to the mall?"

Barb: "Yeah, sure." ^.^

During the journey in Coffee Bean's car, the girls were serenaded by this melody:



At Dolphin Mall, the ultra-trendy stomping grounds for most of Miami's twenty-somethings, the Two Beans found a rather interesting coffee cup:



A few stores later, French Bean saw a want ad for her heart:


She sincerely doubts her Ex will return it to her...

She also got the urge to purchase some high-heeled booties. They are highly impractical for walking in France, but she likes them, dang it.



Since Coffee Bean recently altered her hairstyle, she discovered that her red highlights go well with green. She began her quest to search for a feathery headband that had touches of green.

In a couple of these headband-carrying stores, they continually heard the lyrics "we gon' light it up like it's dy-NO-mite."

As they left the stores, walking past the various window displays, the Two Beans gazed upon this horrible visual scourge:



Yes. Those are indeed Romero Britto suitcases.

Horrified by the shock her system had, French Bean immediately needed to recover with a Cuban cortadito.


Coffee Bean remarks about her amazement of seeing a Latin Grill once again (there is a significant lack of Latin Grill out of the Miami area).

Also in the food area, the girls feasted upon a delectable sight of a strawberry crème mousse parade.



After the much-needed coffee break, the Two Beans continued walking around the mall. All of a sudden, a pair of handsome rogue eyes twinkled in Coffee Bean's direction. A tall, dark-haired gorgeous Italian grasped both of her hands and said, with much conviction, "You have such a cute smile." His strong fingers caressed her blushing cheeks as he questioned her about her age.

The Italian: "How old are you?"

Hanny: "I'm 22."

The Italian: "No...you look 16!"

Hanny: "But I'm not. I'm 22."

His eyes lit up with expectation.

The Italian: "Perfect! Do you have a boyfriend?"

Clinging to her every word, the blue-eyed Italian awaited her response. Hanny, completely hypnotized by his swaying charms, replied "No."

The Italian lips burst out the words "Perfect! Come with me" and led her towards a booth that sold manicure products. Hanny, dismayed, firmly said "no thank you" to him. The Italian then gazed in Barb's direction...and she said "no grazie."

Store after store after store, Coffee Bean tried on thousands of feathered headbands. None would do. Some were simply too ugly to be on her head, or needed to have a loan for a mortgage to finance it.

So, as a way to cheer herself up, she went to...Yogurt Berry!



Even in Yogurt Berry, Taio Cruz kept singing about celebrating and living his life. Like it's dy-NO-mite.

Barb and Hanny

Disclaimer: The Two Beans are obviously not Taio Cruz (the video does not belong to them).