A Big Expensive Coffee Maker. WHAT ARE WE THINKING OF??

An $11,000 coffee maker—and a drip brewer at that—sounds like Exhibit A in a congressional hearing on criminally inflated military spending. It’s the Clover, a commercial machine that has gained a cult following for the heavenly coffee it produces. It precisely makes one cup of coffee at a time, letting you select brewing time and temperature to coax the best flavor out of the particular bean you’re using. The barista pours ground coffee onto an extremely fine filter atop a piston that descends into the machine. After the coffee steeps, the piston rises, creating a vacuum that pulls water through the grounds. The finished coffee flows through a spout into a waiting cup. Despite its price tag, a Clover can increase café owners’ profits by allowing them to charge more per cup according to the bean.

To date, only a smattering of roasters and cafés have the machine. I tracked one down at Intelligentsia’s Millennium Park location, to see if it was really worth it. Intelligentsia charges anywhere from a few bucks to $22 per 12-ounce cup of Clover-brewed java.

The sleek, 110-pound apparatus looked like an unassuming espresso maker. Although it is fully automated, it still requires some moves,.

After weighing and grinding the beans—the coveted Hacienda La Esmeralda Geisha from Panama—I adjusted the Clover’s settings for cup size, time, and temperature. Intelligentsia’s quality-control team at its central roasting works in the city determines the settings for its top five beans every week. A cheat sheet is taped to the side of the Clover to aid baristas. After I poured the ground coffee onto the filter screen just below the attached hot-water spigot and pressed the start button, the pistoned screen descended into the brewing chamber and hot water flowed in. I gently agitated the mixture with a flat silicone whisk.

In 42 seconds, the filter screen rose up, bringing with it a patty of coffee grounds, which was squeegeed into the waste slot, leaving an amateur’s sloppy trail that had to be wiped down.

The finished coffee streamed out automatically from a spout underneath the control panel. Even before my initial sip, the deep chocolate color and rich aroma drew me close. I suddenly remembered my first whiff of ground coffee as a kid. My introduction to Clover-made coffee was exactly what I’d wished for from that childhood scent. It had full body, remarkable clarity, and bright acidity. I thought, “This has ruined me for all other coffee.”

You probably can’t afford a Clover, nor could you fit one in your kitchen. Not all is lost, though, if you don’t live near one of the few cafés that use a Clover. Baristas I talked to recommended that home brewers buy one of the coffee makers that are explained here.

The Chemex is an hourglass-shaped glass flask designed by German-immigrant chemist Peter Schlumbohm in 1941.

It makes beautifully clear, flavorful coffee, but compared to a French press (see next recommendation), it’s relatively time-consuming and messy, which can be a challenge first thing in the morning.

Dampen a special Chemex paper filter, insert it into the top of the flask, add medium-ground coffee, and continually add slightly-cooler-than-boiling water until you’ve brewed your desired amount. You don’t simply add water then step away. You must keep the top vessel filled while the finished coffee filters to the bottom. The sand-through-the-hourglass-like process is what makes the finished product so good. It gives the hot water time to infuse the coffee, yet also filter through.

Many coffee experts use a French press in the morning, because it’s easy to operate and clean out. Plus there are no paper filters, which people with very exacting palates claim can impart or absorb flavors. This Chambord model is a classic and considered to be one of the best.

It debuted in 1933, manufactured incongruously by a clarinet factory in Normandy. Now owned by Bodum, the press is still the same. It comes in several sizes. Like all French presses, it works like this: Add coarsely ground coffee and near-boiling water to the pot, then place the filter plunger on top, but don’t press down yet. After you let the grounds and water steep for about four minutes, press the plunger down slowly—the water will be pushed through the strainer, leaving the grounds behind on the bottom of the pot. Your coffee is ready.

Can a Good Coffee Maker Transform Bad Coffee?

Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if the French press and the Chemex could make low-quality coffee taste good. I chose an inexpensive Classic Roast, which in my opinion somehow manages to be thin yet jaw-achingly sharp and bitter.

The folks at Intelligentsia declined to let me brew in their Clover, because a company representative said we wouldn’t know the correct settings and therefore wouldn’t give the coffee a fair shake. I felt it would have been a bit much to ask Intelligentsia’s quality-control team to determine the best settings, and Folgers does not have brewing guidelines for the Clover.

Following Intelligentsia’s general guidelines for brewing coffee in non-Clover appliances, I used Brita-filtered water—boiled in an electric kettle and the temperature verified with a digital thermometer to be 205 degrees Fahrenheit—and two tablespoons of ground coffee for every six ounces of water.

The standard grind of Folgers was too fine for the French press, leaving way too much sediment. The Chemex made a characteristically clean and sediment-free coffee.

Otherwise the finished cups of coffee were similar: There was no body. It was like drinking hot, brown, burnt water, an interesting concept actually. The piercing bitterness I usually taste with coffee of this caliber wasn’t there. So sadly, the answer is no, not even two great coffee makers can make bad coffee taste good. Just a little better.