⬜ The meaning of a moka pot

Good coffee pot design; bad coffee

Nate’s curvaceous Alessi moka pot

Nate Gallant: We are no more surrounded by nostalgia than at any other moment in American culture. Trying to leap across the chasm of time in order to experience warm memories is, as always, a much easier task than reckoning with actual history — which “weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living,” per Marx. Fine. But it’s still pleasant to have a few things around the house that evoke various flavors of the past. 

To this end, I've always found the classic, aluminum Bialetti moka pot to be a very satisfying sort of kitchen "thing." Not for its ability to carry the signs of "latent hedonism" (as Barthes says of Marx and Brecht's cigars), or for its Eurocore aesthetic (debatable), or even for its ability to produce incredible coffee (it's good, not amazing). Rather, I am attached to its ability to slough off culture. The moka pot is totally within itself. It carries the aesthetic formulation of experimental pre-war Italian design with relatively little historical freight and maximal functionality. Its construction quality has somehow survived the 21st century’s cheapening of housewares and appliances. 

The moka pot is sort of frozen in function, rather than in time. Cultures have developed around the Bialetti, and fancier versions have emerged, to be sure. However unlike, say, the laicization of barista-level pour-over coffee or the matte-black gadget-guy espresso workflows, to my knowledge, no "thingification" or trend has fundamentally altered it. It’s not hugely commercialized, nor is it particularly prone to class signaling. Anyone might have one, and a lot of people do. 

My hunch about its indelibility was confirmed when I attempted to upgrade my old Bialetti. I had wondered for some time if the many curious moka pot redesigns that had been continuously advertised to me from Alessi were any good. During a deep sale, I relented, and purchased one from a recent line of products by a mid-century designer I'd never heard of, Alessandro Mendini. Rather than the relatively smooth vertical geometry of the Bialetti, this Alessi version in bright stainless steel has shallow, horizontal curves that lightly terrace an hourglass-like shape. It looked like an upgrade. But the Alessi moka pot makes shit coffee, and never quite enough of it, either. It tastes both weaker and less satisfying than the old Bialetti, even though the only difference seems to be its bulbous silhouette.

Ultimately, though, I can only blame myself for the mistake. I betrayed my own attachment to the moka pot’s lack of aspirational design. Perhaps worse, I was potentially seduced by the billowy hourglass of a coffee maker. The mustachioed Bialetti mascot will continue to laugh at me from somewhere on the kitchen counter, casually outliving my attempts to better myself through aesthetic refinement. I never needed anything particularly semiotic from my coffee pot. As I desperately bobble toward feeding my caffeine addiction each morning, all I need is a smooth, steaming, industrialized runway. 

---

From Our Readers:

Benjamin S. writes of OT’s previous newsletter on Rimowa vs. Tiffany,

…The difference is, as you say, the marketing of one vs. the product of the other. But is an ad a good thing? I don't know. They're a part of culture. Ads move the world, occasionally. I'm not complaining.

Kyle: It’s a good question! I think advertising can be good, and every kind of thing has good iterations and bad iterations. Effective ads communicate something fundamental about a product, brand, or company. It’s hard to market anything without some kind of ad. I’d rather have more nostalgic Rimowa hand-drawn animation than, say, shallow influencer ads. I always say that Hyperallergic has the best banner ads on the internet, because they showcase beautiful gallery and museum art and they’re big enough to actually look at.

Send in a comment or suggestion by email and we’ll include it in this segment. Reply to this newsletter or email onethingnewsletter@gmail.com.