I love coffee at my local cafe. The guy behind the counter tamps the brown dust into a stainless steel thimble, which is then jammed into the maw of the large silver coffee machine perched on the counter. It could be one of the best coffee makers around judging from the coffee produced. The machine groans and rumbles, and then spits out a thin, steady stream of jet black liquid. I add in my milk, and admire the swirling white and copper. The coffee machine must be old, but I wonder how old, and if it is still available in the market. Perhaps I shall ask the guy behind the counter.