The Moka Pot

If, like me, you are a confirmed aficionado of that great Sicilian detective, Inspector Montalbano, you shall be aware of his fondness for coffee, particularly the espresso type made in a Moka Pot.

Salvo Montalbano has a small, three-cup version in his house, and he’s often seen bringing the pot out with a bowl of sugar on a large tray to his balcony.

This is all quintessentially part of the Italian culture, I am in no doubt.

Moka pots are inexpensive and readily available on auction sites and so on.

Anybody who knows TImothy Belmont  will know that I’m no connoisseur of coffee. I enjoy it, though I’ll happily drink the instant, freeze-dried  stuff out of jars.

Nevertheless I do appreciate freshly ground coffee beans.

Recently I’ve tried the espresso variety, served in tiny cups equivalent to a large measure of gin.

I had one, in fact, at the Queen’s Film Theatre prior to watching The Lighthouse.

Having a sweet tooth I shovel a good spoonful of sugar into the cup, though, frankly, the espresso does not enthuse me at all.

What’s the point of it? If you drink it regularly does it become addictive in some way? I don’t know.

Readers, enlighten me!