Just as surely, the machine is fast and efficient, and is lovely to behold sitting on your kitchen counter.
But the capsules they require are a controlled substance. Even in Paris, they can be found only in four stores. The giant Swiss firm that makes them would prefer we joined their club and ordered on the internet, but we hop the Metro and head to their "flagship" store near the internationally trendy center of the city.
Inside, the tubes of capsules are purchased downstairs only after you have met with your coffee consultant, a thin, well-dressed young man with the look of an investment banker. The tubes are pretty stacked against the wall. We take a picture. Security appears, wagging a long finger and speaking into his lapel. But we got one, and this is it.
A few Metro stops later, we wander through a townhouse-now-museum built in 1548, checking our backpack full of coffee capsules at the entrance. Paris is rich with museums and centuries.
Outside, mounted gendarmes clop by. We wonder if they have been summoned to subdue an insistent picture-taker at the Coffee Palace.
