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Design the World: Zassenhaus Coffee Grinder
This post is sponsored by Autodesk. Another in a series of posts on the things we actually own and use here at MoCo Loco.
I love my coffee grinder. It's a Zassenhaus Mokka, a squat, wooden box with a hand-crank on top, whose uncompromisingly utilitarian design spoke to me at first sight. I ran into it, quite by accident, in a second-hand store, and instantly recognized its serious potential for doing...something. I handled it, felt the solid construction, the smoothly-fitted drawer in front, the precise rotation of the crank, the decisive open-and-shut snap of the spring-assisted steel hopper lid. If I wasn't sold right there, the price, six dollars, closed the deal. I purchased it without being sure what exactly it was: a food grinder of some sort, for pepper, perhaps.
Over the next few months, the Zassenhaus delivered on its initial promise of efficient, no-frills grinding. Backed off a fraction of a turn from the maximum coarse setting, it ground peppercorns with perfect ease and consistency. It was only when I made the switch from tea to coffee-drinking, and did a Web search for "coffee grinder," that I discovered the Zassenhaus' true calling. A coffee mill, just when I needed one.
The Zassenhaus Mokka is a conical burr coffee mill (it grinds with a cone of steel teeth), of German manufacture, and quite highly regarded in expert coffee-grinding circles. Better yet, this is an old one, made at least 30 years ago, before German unification, cheap Chinese parts, Czechoslovakian subcontracting, and whatever other real and rumored global changes contributed to a reported drop in quality. This is the original article, with a straight line back to Zassenhaus' 1867 origins, fabricated entirely of hardwood and hardened tool steel (with little rubber feet).
Operation is easy. Select the grind, from coarse for French press, to ultra-fine espresso grade, by turning the knurled thumb nut on top. Flip open the hopper lid, fill the hopper with coffee beans, flip down the lid, take firm hold, and crank away until the crushing stops. Retrieve your precisely pulverized coffee by sliding out the drawer. Dead simple. And my Mokka is a knee press model: you can sit to crank, with the curved sides clamped between your legs for added comfort and stability (I favor the held-down-on-a-counter top method). It couldn't be better.
Or could it? Could I find a better-designed coffee mill, more pleasing in look, and feel, and function? Probably not. I can easily imagine all sorts of improvements to manual coffee-grinding technology, but I can't see myself following down that path with enthusiasm. I am not a coffee geek. My uncomplicated needs have been fulfilled. For the task of grinding coffee beans by hand, cup by cup, functionality and aesthetics, and price, have happily come together in a tool that I use and regard with complete satisfaction.
Do you have a favorite object or product? Share it with us by uploading a picture and description at mocoloco.com/upload. We may feature your submission in an upcoming Favorite Designs post.
The illustrative sketches you see here were all created by Chris Sweet using Autodesk's Sketchbook Pro because favorite designs, yours and mine, begin with an idea and quite often with the kind of sketches you see here.
I love my coffee grinder. It's a Zassenhaus Mokka, a squat, wooden box with a hand-crank on top, whose uncompromisingly utilitarian design spoke to me at first sight. I ran into it, quite by accident, in a second-hand store, and instantly recognized its serious potential for doing...something. I handled it, felt the solid construction, the smoothly-fitted drawer in front, the precise rotation of the crank, the decisive open-and-shut snap of the spring-assisted steel hopper lid. If I wasn't sold right there, the price, six dollars, closed the deal. I purchased it without being sure what exactly it was: a food grinder of some sort, for pepper, perhaps.
Over the next few months, the Zassenhaus delivered on its initial promise of efficient, no-frills grinding. Backed off a fraction of a turn from the maximum coarse setting, it ground peppercorns with perfect ease and consistency. It was only when I made the switch from tea to coffee-drinking, and did a Web search for "coffee grinder," that I discovered the Zassenhaus' true calling. A coffee mill, just when I needed one.
The Zassenhaus Mokka is a conical burr coffee mill (it grinds with a cone of steel teeth), of German manufacture, and quite highly regarded in expert coffee-grinding circles. Better yet, this is an old one, made at least 30 years ago, before German unification, cheap Chinese parts, Czechoslovakian subcontracting, and whatever other real and rumored global changes contributed to a reported drop in quality. This is the original article, with a straight line back to Zassenhaus' 1867 origins, fabricated entirely of hardwood and hardened tool steel (with little rubber feet).
Operation is easy. Select the grind, from coarse for French press, to ultra-fine espresso grade, by turning the knurled thumb nut on top. Flip open the hopper lid, fill the hopper with coffee beans, flip down the lid, take firm hold, and crank away until the crushing stops. Retrieve your precisely pulverized coffee by sliding out the drawer. Dead simple. And my Mokka is a knee press model: you can sit to crank, with the curved sides clamped between your legs for added comfort and stability (I favor the held-down-on-a-counter top method). It couldn't be better.
Or could it? Could I find a better-designed coffee mill, more pleasing in look, and feel, and function? Probably not. I can easily imagine all sorts of improvements to manual coffee-grinding technology, but I can't see myself following down that path with enthusiasm. I am not a coffee geek. My uncomplicated needs have been fulfilled. For the task of grinding coffee beans by hand, cup by cup, functionality and aesthetics, and price, have happily come together in a tool that I use and regard with complete satisfaction.
Do you have a favorite object or product? Share it with us by uploading a picture and description at mocoloco.com/upload. We may feature your submission in an upcoming Favorite Designs post.
The illustrative sketches you see here were all created by Chris Sweet using Autodesk's Sketchbook Pro because favorite designs, yours and mine, begin with an idea and quite often with the kind of sketches you see here.
