What is the story with ordering a cup of coffee these days? It’s a nightmare. Ever the contrarian, I just like it black, or as I am now forced to say, an Americano, with a splash of cold milk. None of your flat white frothy foam, thanks.

It’s not the calorie count – though did you know a regular-sized cappuccino is 125 of ‘em? – it’s just the utter wankines of it that I’d quite like to bypass. Also, the massive amounts of extra froth equate to a lack of a caffeine fix, the um, whole reason for drinking coffee in the first place. Tall, black and some cold milk please. Job done.

Nespresso is an item of kitchen gadgetry which in all honesty could not better encapsulate the Celtic Tiger.

Which brings me neatly onto Nespresso and its ilk, an item of kitchen gadgetry which in all honesty could not better encapsulate the Celtic Tiger. Unnecessary, expensive, something you felt compelled to have because everyone else was getting them but which you actually ended up getting totally screwed by as it sat on your counter top laughing at you as it coughed out a lukewarm, stale-tasting coffee-approximation.

And then, to add insult to injury, you have to spend your lunchtime queuing up with loads of other people in Arnotts or BTs to buy refills for exorbitant prices. It is no surprise they package the pods in those long sticks – it’s so you can really feel like you’re getting a shafting.

I’ve long suspected that the best coffee you can make at home – barring having a professional coffee machine – is using a common or garden French press or an Italian stove-top like a Bialetti. Catching a bit of RTE’s Consumer Show a couple of months ago when Nespresso-style machines were under test by the Bald Barista, proved my theory correct.

He reckoned that you’re just as well having a cafetiere and keeping your money in your pocket. Other bonuses? More counter space, less finicky cleaning and decently-sized cup of hot coffee to boot. Of course, if you’re anything other than an Americano fan, you’re bang out of luck with that alternative.

What do you reckon? Love, love and adore your Nespresso and vehemently defend it to its dying gasp or are you a firm plunge potter? Leave me a comment – I’m just off to make a pot of black.