I spent last weekend with Maddy at her new apartment. In a misplaced but well-meaning attempt at thrift she had purchased a stovetop percolator ($3) and googled instructions for use ("you will need coarsely ground coffee, a heat source, and total disrespect for the bean"). Remembering the days when this blue Kitchenaid stand mixer was the most expensive thing I owned besides my car, I promptly bought her a French press. Her boyfriend John thanked me profusely. Since he is the coffee drinker in the household he was the sole victim of the percolator brew which somehow managed to be simultaneously bitter and watery.
I also brought her some extra baking pans, ramen, palm sugar and Korean drinking vinegar. And, after hearing that she had flipped pancakes with tongs that morning, a spatula.