#Coffee Roaster Machine

[commercial-atta-chakki]

Choosing the right coffee roaster is key to your business success. Explore the features, prices, and benefits of 5kg, 15kg, and 25kg coffee roasters to find the perfect fit. Get expert insights to make a smart investment and elevate your coffee roasting game. https://www.commercialattachakki.com/blog/coffee-roaster-machine-price

[pamukkalemakina20]

أنواع ماكينات تحميص القهوة والمكسرات: دليل لاختيار المعدات المناسبة

أنواع ماكينات تحميص القهوة والمكسرات: دليل لاختيار المعدات المناسبة

تلعب ماكينات التحميص دورًا حيويًا في تعزيز نكهات القهوة والمكسرات. سواء كنت من أصحاب الأعمال الصغيرة أو منتجًا على نطاق واسع، فإن فهم الأنواع المختلفة لماكينات التحميص يساعدك في اتخاذ قرار مدروس. في هذا المقال، سوف نستعرض الأنواع الرئيسية لماكينات تحميص القهوة والمكسرات المتاحة في السوق .

أنواع ماكينات تحميص القهوة

ماكينات التحميص بالدرام) الطنبور(

تعد ماكينات التحميص بالدرام هي الأكثر تقليدية والأكثر استخدامًا لتحميص القهوة. تحتوي هذه الماكينات على أسطوانة دوارة تقوم بتوزيع الحرارة بشكل متساوٍ، مما يضمن تحميصًا متناسقًا. هذه الماكينات مثالية للإنتاج على نطاق واسع وتوفر مرونة في التحكم في مستويات التحميص. إنها معروفة بإنتاج قهوة غنية وكاملة النكهة.

ماكينات التحميص بالهواء

تستخدم ماكينات التحميص بالهواء الهواء الساخن لتحميص حبوب القهوة، مما يسمح لها بالطفو بحرية أثناء التحميص. هذه الماكينات أكثر كفاءة في استهلاك الطاقة وتوفر عملية تحميص أسرع. يفضلها العديد من أصحاب العمليات الصغيرة الذين يبحثون عن دقة في التحميص وملف نكهة خفيف.

ماكينات التحميص الهجينة

تجمع ماكينات التحميص الهجينة بين تقنيتي التحميص بالدرام والهواء. تم تصميم هذه الماكينات لتوفير أفضل ما في كلا الجانبين اتساق أكبر وسرعة أعلى. إنها متعددة الاستخدامات، مما يسمح للمحامص بتجربة أساليب مختلفة في التحميص.

أنواع ماكينات تحميص المكسرات

ماكينات التحميص بالدرام للمكسرات

تشبه هذه الماكينات ماكينات التحميص بالدرام الخاصة بالقهوة، حيث تحتوي على أسطوانة دوارة تقوم بتسخين المكسرات بشكل متساوٍ. تسُتخدم هذه الماكينات عادة لتحميص كميات كبيرة من المكسرات وتوفر تحميصًا ثابتاً مع الحد الأدنى من خطر الاحتراق. هذه الماكينات مثالية للوز، والفول السوداني، والكاجو ،والمكسرات الأخرى الشائعة.

ماكينات التحميص المستمر للمكسرات

تم تصميم ماكينات التحميص المستمر للمكسرات من أجل الإنتاج عالي الحجم. تستخدم هذه الماكينات نظام حزام ناقل ينقل المكسرات عبر غرفة تسخين، مما يسمح بالتحميص المستمر. تضمن هذه الماكينات تحميصًا موحداً، وهي مناسبة لعمليات التحميص المكسرات على نطاق واسع.

ماكينات التحميص الدوارة للمكسرات

تستخدم ماكينات التحميص الدوارة أسطوانة دوارة لضمان تحميص المكسرات بشكل متساوٍ. وهي فعالة بشكل خاص للمنتجات التي تتطلب تحكمًا دقيقًا في درجة الحرارة ووقت التحميص. تسُتخدم هذه الماكينات عادة لتحميص دفعات أصغر من المكسرات الفاخرة.

الخاتمة

يعتمد اختيار ماكينة التحميص المناسبة على عوامل مثل المنتج، حجم الدفعة، والنكهة المطلوبة. تشمل ماكينات تحميص القهوة نماذج الدرام، والهواء، والتهوية، والهجينة، التي تقدم تجارب تحميص فريدة. بالنسبة للمكسرات ،توفر الخيارات مثل ماكينات التحميص بالدرام، والمستمر، والهواء الساخن، والدوارة حلولًا لاحتياجات الإنتاج المختلفة.

يضمن اختيار الماكينة المناسبة التناسق والجودة ورضا العملاء. لمزيد من المعلومات أو لاختيار الحل المثالي لاحتياجات عملك، تواصل مع شركة باموكالي ماكينة، المزود الموثوق للمعدات عالية الجودة للتحميص.

[locamotivednp]

Sorry but I just saw a tag that said ‘I’m a coffee snob I only go to Starbucks’ and like… bestie pls 😭 coffee snobs order beans from their local favorite roaster, have a 100 dollar burr grinder, and at least two different ways to brew coffee at home.

[suit212]

Click here to see unique craftmanship. A superb espresso machine coming from Netherlands. I love it.

[sameer9900]

Coffee Roaster Machine: Elevating Your Brew with Precision

The aroma of freshly roasted coffee is irresistible. For coffee connoisseurs and café owners alike, the journey from green beans to a perfectly brewed cup starts with one essential tool: the coffee roaster machine. At Kaapi Solution, we bring premium roasting technology that ensures you enjoy coffee at its finest.

What is a Coffee Roaster Machine?

A coffee roaster machine is designed to heat green coffee beans until they reach the desired roast level, unlocking the flavors hidden inside. These machines allow precise control over time, temperature, and airflow—key factors in determining the flavor, aroma, and quality of the coffee.

Types of Coffee Bean Roasters

At Kaapi Solution, we offer a range of coffee bean roasters suitable for beginners, small coffee shops, and large commercial operations.

Drum Roasters: Ideal for small-batch roasting, drum roasters use a rotating drum to ensure even heat distribution.

Hot Air Roasters: These use convection heating to roast beans more quickly, often preferred for light roasts.

Fluid Bed Roasters: These roasters lift and heat beans using hot air, perfect for consistent and clean roasting.

Each type has its unique advantages, and Kaapi Solution helps customers select the right model based on their volume, space, and roasting goals.

Why Invest in a Coffee Roaster Machine?

Roasting your own beans gives you control over the flavor profile and freshness. Whether you are a small café or a large commercial setup, having an in-house coffee roaster can:

Enhance flavor and freshness

Reduce long-term costs on pre-roasted beans

Allow custom blends and roast levels

Create a brand signature with unique flavor notes

Commercial Coffee Roaster Machines at Kaapi Solution

Kaapi Solution is a trusted supplier of commercial coffee machines and roasters in India. Our commercial roaster machines are built with precision engineering to offer:

High batch capacity for large-scale operations

Programmable profiles for consistent roasting

Advanced cooling systems to prevent over-roasting

Energy-efficient operation for cost-saving

We partner with globally reputed brands, ensuring each product stands the test of time and delivers unmatched performance.

Integrating with Commercial Coffee Machines

Roasting is just the beginning. Once your beans are perfectly roasted, they need to be brewed the right way. Kaapi Solution offers a complete ecosystem—from coffee roaster machines to commercial coffee machines. This seamless integration ensures that every step, from bean to cup, maintains the highest standards.

Support and Training

Buying a coffee bean roaster is a long-term investment. That’s why Kaapi Solution provides not just the machines but also hands-on training, after-sales service, and support. Our coffee consultants guide you through:

Roasting profiles and techniques

Bean sourcing and storage

Machine maintenance

Troubleshooting and repairs

Who Should Use a Coffee Roaster Machine?

Cafés and Coffee Chains looking to differentiate their offerings

Coffee Enthusiasts who want to explore home roasting

Restaurants and Hotels aiming to serve unique blends

Coffee Startups creating their own roasted labels

Conclusion

If you're ready to step up your coffee game, a coffee roaster machine from Kaapi Solution is the perfect place to start. Whether you’re looking to roast small batches or scale up your operations with commercial coffee machines, we have a tailored solution waiting for you.

[fairy-ganj-mother]

love finding a new espresso bean brand/roaster that exceeds expectations<3

[baristaacademy]

Learn & Start Your Own Coffee Roasting Business

Start your coffee roasting business with expert guidance on everything from sourcing the finest beans to mastering roasting techniques and developing a brand that stands out. New Jersey Coffee School's comprehensive training will equip you with the knowledge and tools to turn your passion into a profitable business. Whether you're new to the industry or looking to refine your skills, we offer hands-on support at every stage of your journey.

[begouristore]

Home Coffee Roaster Electric Mini No Smoke Coffee Beans Baking Roasting ...

[commercial-atta-chakki]

Want to take your coffee business to the next level? Learn how a commercial coffee roaster machine can boost your profits, improve flavor, and make your brand stand out! https://www.commercialattachakki.com/blog/how-commercial-coffee-roaster-machine-can-boost-your-coffee-business

[coffeemachineswarehouse]

best espresso machine for coffee shop in USA

The best espresso machine for a coffee shop is the La Marzocco Linea PB. With its exceptional build quality and advanced features, the Linea PB delivers outstanding espresso shots consistently. It boasts a dual boiler system, providing precise temperature control for optimal extraction. The machine's saturated group heads ensure even heat distribution and maximum flavor extraction. The volumetric programming feature allows baristas to consistently brew shots with the touch of a button, streamlining workflow in a busy coffee shop. The Linea PB's sleek design and durability make it a favorite among professionals, making it an excellent choice for any coffee shop.

[show-tunes]

He got put into the oversimplified logo machine

Bonus context below the cut:

My partner was on a road trip and found a coffee shop called Turbo Coffee Roasters and showed me the logo on the cup that gave me the idea for this (the autism is off the charts)

[forthelostones]

𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➺ 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢 #10 (𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 1)

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. guys, you're awesome that's for supporting me. i've recently stopped using grammarly for a more real writing experience. so if things are wonky, just know thats why! no more ai help.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. come see me by jill scott ♫

“Shit, what time is it?” She rubs her eyes.  

“Almost 12, but lucky for you there are no clients on the schedule today. It’s a planning period, remember?” You said, suddenly nauseous. 

Ms. Anderson’s hand grasped her chest and she slowly breathed herself out of the early chaos. In a poor attempt, she rakes a hand through gnarled hair and you stand with your arms crossed like an upset mother waiting for their daughter to explain a wild excursion. 

“Right.” She managed. 

“Nice robe.” You mutter sarcastically. 

Abby’s face contorts in pure embarrassment as she grips her ribcage before scurrying into the hallway leaving you alone with the ghosts of last night. An empty bottle of red wine with a gold label sat on the coffee table in plain view. You scuff, literally, letting out a breath of disbelief because the things you felt and believed were now un-real. You slump down onto the couch face warm from a certain humiliation that you could only associate as conflating her looks and kindness for more. You did it again. 

Abby walks out in a white Anderson and Co. t-shirt with the logo across her back. The fabric stretching across her traps, tightening around her muscles. You admire her ass in those dark wash jeans and her slick bun. Even as you were upset you couldn’t help but admire how her grays shimmered. “Want a cup?” 

Her offer of coffee was tempting after the night you had with Ellie. Being stubborn would make you look even more like a child so you kindly accept with the intentions of not drinking it at all. You follow her into the kitchen and stand in silence, staring at the unwashed pots and empty glasses. 

“I’ve been off my game, I had an unexpected visitor, I promise I’m more organized than this.” She sighed. 

Unexpected visitor.

“It’s perfect that I’m here now then, isn’t it?” Your voice unusually timid. 

She turns away from her machine and closes her eyes as if they weighed a ton. “It seems like once I gotcha, I lost all my senses.” 

A beat fell between two and the coffee drip pulled at the thick tension as Ms. Anderson’s gaze fell on you. You crack a willful smile and then peer at the kitchen floor knowing you can’t hide from her here. 

The time that you spend with Abby seems to go by quickly because by the time you check your phone it’s already 8:00 p.m. You press your hand to your forehead after looking through numbers and endless identical names, small square boxes on digital screens, it was straining on your eyes. You couldn't complain, you needed the distraction. After Ms. Anderson cleaned up her mess and you both settled into her office, the conversation and work flow clicked effortlessly. She listened when you spoke and took time to process every syllable, all while teaching you her customer management systems, and the basics of organizing a comprehensive schedule. The main priority today was allocating tasks to her staff for upcoming projects and seeing Ellie’s name on the roaster made your stomach flip. 

“Listen, I was thinking last night, this is pretty monumental for me as I am shifting into a new level of A&C and you joining me, maybe if you’re not busy we can celebrate?” She asked. 

“Oh,” Is all you manage. 

“Or not? I see you’re tired and had a long day, unpaid time with the boss, I get it.” Her instant defeat was a little adorable.

“No, no, Ms. Anderson I would like that, I just wish I wore something nicer.” You sigh. 

“I think this looks amazing.” She said drinking you in.

You arrive at one of the few standing lesbian bars in the state that invited all female jazz musicians to provide the entertainment. The building was brick and seemed small but spanned all the way down the plot, housing a wide parking lot, shockingly full with cars on a weekday. 

“I won’t tell you how long I’ve been comin’ here.” She smiles putting the car into park, flaunting those kind crowfeet. 

Slipping out of the truck and walking on the gravel you started to hear the grumblings of a drum kit and wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. As expected she opens the door for you and welcomes you into a private sliver of her world. Given Ms. Anderson’s past of being a bartender it made sense that she’d take you somewhere like this, but it being a lesbian bar, made it all the more interesting. Women, mostly older, scattered around in two main parts, the dining area with small duo only tables, or the bar that was cornered by a stage and dance floor. You had never seen so many lesbians in one place before, studs and butches vying for attention from femmes flaunting their silky legs and ready bodies. 

“Let’s have a bite. I promise it’s nothing like you had in college, sweetheart.” 

Self seating was a blessing as Ms. Anderson picked the prime seat, a booth big enough for two. You slip into the far end and Abby follows suit and reaching to pull out her glasses, but before she could you stop her. “I could read it for you.” 

Her brow rises and she sinks down a bit to spread her legs wider. Wider into yours. Her thighs brush yours and it was sweet, so sweet. The menu was held in a black, clothed book and the options spread from appetizers to dessert. A waiter, about your age, came over with Barbie pink lip and electric blue eyeshadow. “Hi, what do you want to drink?” 

No niceties just direct and you liked that. 

“I’ll have an old fashion and whatever she would like.” Ms. Anderson smiled at you. 

“I will have… that.” 

The waiter looked at you shocked and so did your counterpart. Back to the menu you lean in even though the music was a soft tickle of a riffing piano. “So, how hungry are you?” Looking up into her eyes was dangerous but you couldn’t help it. Abby chewed on the corner of her mouth and shrugged. 

“Hungry enough to eat,” 

You order two appetizers that serve as your meal. Once the drinks came out Abby turned towards you and raised a glass to make a toast. “For my very first and best-est assistant, thank you.” 

In unison the cups come to your lips with unwavering eye contact. Your eyes dipped over the rim to watch the handsome woman lick her lips to digest the flavor fully. Your body jolts from the immediate heartburn, this drink was nothing familiar, which made her laugh. 

“You didn’t have to get that.” 

“I know, jus’ something new when I’m with you. Plus, I need something stronger than a cider right now.” You add. 

“You’re okay right?”

You exhale allowing a tug at your lips, “I will be.” 

The pianist concluded its set before another large brass band started to infiltrate the stage.

“I would enjoy it if you joined me to watch the band.” She muttered, her words a bit stiff as if she had practiced them first. 

“Of course.” 

The image of Ms. Anderson, young and reckless flashed in front of my eyes as she swayed alongside you to the silky sound of the sax. The woman’s lower body rocks in opposition to her shoulders, making a good synchronous bounce to come about. Slightly shocked you watch her slyly rock side to side balancing another thick scotch in her left hand, eyes locked in on the band. Her eyes fluttering, a very subtle indication that she’s nearing intoxication.

Your eyes pace the room, searching for something other than Abby’s nose, that you can’t help but think about. Those lips sat perfectly between it and her chin, pink and damp, stinging from her top shelf beverage. Attempting to appear normal you step side to side and bob your head as the tempo increased. Couples begin swirling around you and Abby and suddenly you were transported to a different era. Legs thrusted out in kicks and ball changes which made your heart bounce. 

Abby leaned back slightly and lifter her glass in an admirable jeer. A slow figure closes in on your left side, taller than Abigail by a few inches and absolutely lofty. The woman had a head full locs, split down the middle, cascading down to her shoulders and skin so dark it had a sheen under the blue stage lights, as if she was glowing. She was probably closer to thirty and her confident was exuberant, you couldn’t help but lean in as she cut past all the flailing limbs. 

“You’re looking pretty nervous,” She chuckles in your ear. 

Her warm breath tickled you and as you adjusted to her body next to yours, you notice Ms. Anderson take an awkward sip, chucking a tight grin in your direction. 

“I need something to make me… less nervous, I suppose.” You reply, nearly yelling into her ear as she bends down, accepting your hand on her shoulder. 

“Your girl isn’t helping?” 

“Boss.” 

It stung to say that, especially with you and Ellie on the fence and an undeniable crush on Ms. Anderson, being in this position felt weird. 

“Shit, that makes more sense, would you like to dance?” 

She was so gentle with her large hand resting just above your hip ever so. You look at Abby who locks in on the stage while nursing the last few sips of drink. 

“Teach me?” You say, as she tugs you into her hips and dips you towards the ground. 

Her strength made you yelp over the clattering of instruments. Directly under a sudden white spotlight, her deep brown eyes focused into view, gold hoop in her nose, and a wide mouth that she wet slightly with the tip of her tongue. 

Once pulled back up, the audience began clapping and the next song began without missing a beat. Your new friend spun you around and twisted you so quick that before it registered that you could even move like this. Something opened up inside of you like a newfound freedom beckoning you to simply let go, which you did. 

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

[rosanna-writer]

That's That Rhys Espresso (1/2)

Summary: Hoping she'll get an espresso machine as a rejection gift, Feyre invites a famous coffee influencer to her wedding…only for him to show up instead. Warnings: None Word Count: ~4k

I love a good group project (almost as much as I love my friends - go read their fics!).

My entry is inspired by this post by the brilliant @the-lonelybarricade and her beautiful brain. And a huge thank you to @thesistersarcheron for the beta read!

You can find the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the cut.

Honestly, the matcha was a red flag.

Feyre had nothing against it, but The Roasters Under the Mountain specialized in rich, dark, extra-bitter espresso. If someone wanted a latte that tasted like grass, the tea shops down the road would do a much better job of it. And yet, she found herself making one for Tamlin daily, the green drink a perfect match to his gorgeous eyes.

If Amarantha didn't threaten to flay her skin from her bones if she took too long filling orders, Feyre would have already written her number on his to-go cup. But under the watchful gaze of her bitch of a boss, she'd been forced to merely smile a little extra warmly at her favorite regular.

Once, when Amarantha had been busy firing Andras for calling out sick too often—health codes, food safety, and labor laws be damned—Feyre had a precious few extra seconds with Tamlin. As she'd slid him his drink, he'd blushed and stammered something about her hair looking clean.

She'd ridden that high for weeks.

Each day, Feyre left The Roasters Under the Mountain with aching feet, exhausted by entitled customers, public restroom shitstorms, Amarantha's threats, and the constant pressure to serve increasingly complicated drinks in less time. The early mornings left her so drained that she hadn't cracked open a can of paint in months. And despite the hard work, she still barely covered the rent for the ramshackle cottage she shared with her family.

So when another opportunity arose to ask Tamlin out, she wasn't exactly in the headspace to identify red flags.

She'd clung to him hard in those early days. It was impossible not to—after years of just scraping by, the relief she felt each time he rubbed her shoulders after a long shift or paid for a date was damn near euphoric.

And yes, maybe she should have been concerned when he'd asked her to move in with him after only a few short months of dating. And that he'd told her not to worry about the bills—he wanted her to focus on her art for now, and she could always pay him back later, when her career took off.

He'd always been so sure she'd make it as an artist. No one else had believed in Feyre like that.

Working her final shift at Under the Mountain had felt like such a victory. As much as Feyre wanted to just leave and never come back, she hadn't wanted to give up the chance to rub in the fact that she was moving on to bigger and better things.

On every latte she served that day, she'd drawn a penis in the foam.

It had been worth it, just to watch Amarantha seethe. Even better, her other favorite regular, pumpkin-spice-for-Lucien, who often arrived with Tamlin, had posted a picture of it and tagged her. It went viral, directing some of the traffic to the online store where she sold prints of her work, resulting in a nice little boost to her revenue that month, enough to pay down some of the credit card debt she'd amassed keeping the lights on at home during one of her father's hospital stays.

Things were looking up. So of course when Tamlin asked her to marry him, she'd cried happy tears and said yes.

Feyre let herself get swept up in the new whirlwind of wedding planning. It was easier than thinking about why she still woke up at 3 AM in a panic, convinced Amarantha would snap her neck for arriving late to her opening shift. Most nights, she ran to the bathroom with a racing heart and shaking hands and heaved the contents of her dinner into the toilet.

Tamlin never woke up. She tried not to think about it.

Once, Feyre stopped at their neighborhood coffee shop, intent on bringing home a treat, but before she could order, she'd found herself hyperventilating. She'd left. And when Tamlin came home exhausted from a long day at work, she decided not to tell him about the incident. It seemed so silly in retrospect.

Maybe when he'd added her to his health insurance after the wedding, she'd try therapy. For now, watching Black as Knight was healing enough.

Elain had sent her the first video she'd watched. Feyre's sister devoured all sorts of online cooking and food content at an alarming rate. Under a joke about the swill Feyre drank—god Feyre, Folgers??? you drink that BLACK??? you're worse than Nesta—Elain had included a link to a video of a coffee expert blind taste-testing bargain brands.

Feyre had opened it, not expecting that Rhysand Knight would be the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

In the weeks and months since, Feyre had devoured every last espresso machine review, tiramisu recipe, and AeroPress instruction video Rhysand made. His voice was so soothing that she'd even taken to putting him on as background noise when she painted. With his trademark glasses, swoopy greying hair, and cocky smirk, he was utterly captivating to watch. And as a past winner of the world barista championship and pioneer of the third-wave coffee movement, he was incredibly knowledgable, too.

It was a small thing, perhaps, but if it weren't for Rhysand, Feyre doubted she'd ever manage to enjoy a latte without flashbacks to her time at Under the Mountain.

Once, she'd tried to get Tamlin to watch Rhysand's video detailing the different methods for decaffeinating coffee beans. Two minutes in, Tamlin had scoffed and told her to find something else.

"I just don't know how you can stand it," he'd said. "He's all 'notes of cinnamon' this and 'finely ground roast' that. It's just coffee."

A tiny, embarrassing wobble had creeped into Feyre's voice when she replied, "I'm trying to be better about remembering I can afford nice coffee sometimes. That I don't have to keep living like I'm poor now."

After that, Tamlin hadn't pressed the issue. Mostly. Feyre stopped trying to coax him into watching Rhysand's content with her—instead, she put up with the unfunny violin duo that Tamlin adored, though she could do without the endlessly repetitive you should be practicing jokes.

Sure, Tamlin never seemed to compromise and put on something she preferred. Annoying maybe, but making love last meant picking your battles, didn't it? Feyre could live with that.

But for some reason, the emerald ring on her left hand felt like a deadweight more often these days.

It might have been the reason Feyre put off building a registry as long as possible. But also, she'd never gotten over how presumptuous it felt to give her guests a list of items to gift. The price tags made her nauseous, no matter how many times Tamlin gently reminded her it was time to replace all her mismatched secondhand kitchenware.

"And maybe," he'd said with a wry smile, "that'll actually motivate you to learn to cook."

She'd forced a smile and tried to forget about the way he'd picked at the soup she'd made the week before, then ordered takeout after declaring it inedible. But with all the extra hours he'd been working at his high-pressure sales job, Feyre couldn't blame him for wanting a home-cooked meal at a reasonable hour every night.

Even if that meant cutting her time at the studio shorter than she could afford with her career just getting off the ground.

Feyre tried to put that thought out of her mind. Tamlin had blocked off the entire afternoon just so they could wander Williams Sonoma hand-in-hand. She intended to enjoy his company as best she could before he jetted off on a business trip for the week. Again.

They turned the corner, and in an aisle full of espresso machines that cost more than Feyre made in a month, Rhysand Knight's face smirked down at them from every box on the shelf. Apparently, that YouTube channel had expanded to a line of matte black coffee equipment.

Feyre glanced at Tamlin. And before she could even get a word out, he said, "Absolutely not."

"I take it you don't want to invite him to the wedding?" Feyre said, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Tamlin didn't smile back; if anything, his frown deepened. "No."

"It's not like he'd show up—he doesn't know us. We'd probably just get an autographed photo and a nice card from his publicist. But who knows, if this kitchenware line is taking off, maybe he'd gift us an espresso machine. He can certainly afford it."

It seemed like the sort of thing a celebrity would do. Elain mostly sent their group chat bouquet inspo these days, but in the middle of all the aesthetic pictures of baby's breath, Nesta had said something about the host of her favorite game show getting wedding invites from fans. He'd joked about attending, and the internet had adored him for it.

A famous barista sending a top-of-the-line espresso machine to an couple who'd invited him to their wedding on a lark—feel-good stories like that always went viral.

And as much as Feyre loved her coffeemaker, it was still a far cry from the ones that would let her make specialty espresso drinks as home. Those cost thousands of dollars, more money than she'd ever feel comfortable spending on something unnecessary.

"We can get our own damn espresso machine if you want one so badly," Tamlin said through gritted teeth.

"I've heard that coffee tastes better when the machine you made it in was free."

Tamlin's glare made it obvious that he wasn't going to dignify that with a response. Feyre's smile dimmed. But they really did need to get their registry in order, so she looped his arm through his and let him drag her over to a different aisle to look at linens instead.

Tamlin only drank tea—Feyre suspected he would have reacted more positively if she'd floated the idea of angling for a gift they'd both use. But he wasn't the one carrying coffee-related baggage from the worst job of her life. Maybe he'd never really understand.

Feyre found herself glancing back at the wall of boxes emblazoned with Rhysand's stupidly attractive face. If he definitely wasn't attending the wedding, there was no need to pay for his plate. The only cost would be postage.

There wouldn't be any harm in sending him an invite.

Would there?

On the morning of her wedding, Feyre woke up with a knot in her stomach. Probably just the jitters—after all, she'd never liked attention or public speaking or posing for photos. And a proper wedding involved all of those things in spades.

She'd slept soundly, which was odd. Tamlin was staying with Lucien for the night; his other friend Ianthe had arranged for it. Apparently, everything would go to shit if the groom saw the bride before the wedding, so Feyre had elected to have the house to herself. Without Tamlin holding her as she drifted off, she thought she'd struggle to get some rest.

Instead, it was the best sleep she'd gotten in years. Perhaps the feeling of Tamlin's arms around her had been suffocating, not restful.

Feyre pushed that thought aside. She was marrying him today, and it was far too late to doubt that decision. Everything was paid for. Guests had flown in from out of state. She couldn't back out now.

Like every morning, she ground the beans, filled up the water tank, and hit brew. The familiar smell hit her nose, and Feyre just tried to enjoy the quiet while she could. To breathe while she could.

Her heart was already racing, but she hadn't even ingested a single milligram of caffeine. And it didn't stop, no matter how much she willed it to. As she poured coffee from the carafe to her mug, her hands shook, making the ceramic and glass clink together.

The feeling didn't dissipate, even as she brushed her teeth and threw on clothes. She probably should have had something more substantial for breakfast, but she wasn't sure she could keep it down. It was nearly a relief when her sisters arrived, and she could focus on the orders that Nesta barked at her on the way to the venue.

The concern in Elain's eyes was harder to face.

Feyre felt like a passenger in her own body while someone applied her makeup and someone else curled her hair. Close your eyes. Open your eyes. Tilt your head. Other way. The day had barely started, and she was already feeling overwhelmed from being poked at, plucked, and pinned within an inch of her life.

By the time they finished, a stranger was staring back at her in the mirror.

The photographer had arrived at some point, and Feyre grimaced her way through getting-ready pictures with her sisters in the matching robes they'd bought for the occasion. A feeling of utter wrongness crawled its way up her spine, despite the fact that this was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

The prospect of getting into her dress didn't help, either. The endless layers of tulle made wearing it feel akin to being mummified, and today, the boning in the bodice reminded her of prison bars. Feyre had wanted to wear something more loose and flowing—why pay thousands for something she couldn't properly dance in at the reception?—but in the end, she'd let Tamlin and Ianthe talk her into something more traditional, feminine, and restrictive.

Sure, she looked like a cupcake with great tits and a snatched waist. But slipping on a gown wasn't supposed to feel like getting closed into a trap.

They staged a few pictures of Nesta lacing up the back of her dress. It was far from tight—the corset back was nothing more than an embellishment over a hidden zipper—but Feyre's breath began to come in pants.

"I— I think I need some air," she said.

"Did you remember to drink some water today?" Elain said, frowning.

Just coffee. But her sisters didn't need to know that. Feyre nodded, though Nesta's gaze slid to Elain anyway, as if they were having a silent conversation.

"Yes. I'll be right back, I promise. I just need a minute. Alone."

Feyre pushed past the photographer before anyone could argue. She fisted her hands in her voluminous skirts and barreled out the door, heedless of where she was going. It didn't matter. All she needed was to be out, with as much distance between her and everyone else as possible.

Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she ran. They'd gotten ready in some back room of the venue, a scenic country club with a golf course—Tamlin had picked it. There had to be an exit somewhere.

She was dimly aware of hurried footsteps behind her. Someone was calling her name. Feyre wasn't quite sure who—it was hard to tell with her pulse pounding so strongly in her ears.

She made a few turns, just trying to get away. With panic flooding her mind, she didn't think about signs or directions, just a need to get to safety.

At some point, she found herself running towards a pair of shiny metal doors, the kind that led to an industrial kitchen. Shit. She must really have gotten turned around again. Feyre wanted to scream or cry or both.

She glanced around, not quite sure where else to run. Perhaps it was time to give up, to pull herself together so he could force herself down the aisle and marry Tamlin with a smile on her face. Things would sort themselves out eventually.

A warm, broad hand closed around her upper arm. The grip was firm, yet gentle, and Feyre welcomed it like a drowning woman who'd just been thrown a life preserver.

"There you are," a sensual, strangely familiar voice said. "I've been looking for you."

Someone else was calling her name now, telling her not to make such a fuss. The stranger, whoever he was, seemed to understand the urgency, and Feyre let him lead her through another door she'd hadn't noticed in her panic.

Feyre didn't have it in her to protest, not when there was something about this man's touch that quieted her racing thoughts. She was hopelessly turned around, but he seemed to know where he was going. Perhaps he worked here. The catering staff probably dealt with more than their fair share of psychotic brides.

But he didn't take her back to the bridal suite. They stepped through door, and a breeze caressed Feyre's face. Outside. He'd brought her outside.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. The walls had stopped closing in around her, for long enough that something inside her cracked.

Feyre had never been much of a crier—there had always been too much that needed doing to properly fall apart. But for once, tears flowed easily, and her whole body shook with gasping, embarrassing sobs.

Feyre felt herself being gently nudged backward, then down onto a hard bench. The stranger was murmuring something to her, but she was too far gone to make out the words. Whatever it was, it was soothing.

And Feyre needed soothing. Badly.

Without thinking, she reached for the man beside her. He pulled her close, and she buried her face in the soft fabric of his jacket. Heedless of the possibility she'd ruin his clothes with snot and tears, she cried until she was nearly spent. The godsend of a stranger merely ran a hand up and down her back through it all, grounding her.

At some point, her sobs turned into words. Half-coherent phrases at first, until she finally said, "I can't marry him."

Voicing it aloud made it real. Feyre couldn't walk down that that aisle and vow to love Tamlin forever. Not when every instinct that she'd tried so hard to bury screamed danger.

"You certainly can't marry anyone in this state, darling."

Her mind snagged on that last word. Rhysand Knight had said it once in a video—he'd greeted his fashion-blogger cousin with a hello, darling and an air-kiss to the cheek in a collaboration video. Feyre remembered because it had sent a bizarre pang of jealousy lancing through her.

And yes, maybe she'd replayed those two seconds of audio more times than she wanted to admit. Rhysand just had that effect on people.

But that was neither here nor there. As much as Feyre wanted to shut out the world and re-watch the video where Rhysand compared immersion and percolation techniques, there were things she had to take care of first. Namely, leaving, changing out of her godforsaken pastry-shaped dress, and telling Tamlin she was moving on with her life.

"I just don't know how I'm supposed to face everyone after this," she said.

"Then don't."

"What?"

"I'll help you sneak out, if you'd like."

His eyes glinted with mischief. Now that her head head cleared, she realized she couldn't quite place his face. Those eyes alone, so deep blue they were nearly violet, would have haunted her if she'd seen them before, never mind his heartbreaking, ethereal beauty. But she had the strangest sense they'd met before.

Feyre wanted to go with him, more than she'd ever wanted anything. But she'd regained enough composure that another reality of the situation hit her. If she didn't recognize this man, he was a guest from Tamlin's side.

And she'd just cried on his shoulder about not wanting to get married.

"Sorry, but who are you exactly?" she said.

The man merely pulled a pair of glasses out of his breast pocket and slipped them on. "Recognize me now?"

Feyre blinked, not quite believing it at first. But after several hundred hours of watching his videos, she'd know those spectacles anywhere.

Rhysand Knight had actually come to her wedding.

"I— I thought you were just going to send a gift."

"I RSVP'd yes, didn't I?"

"But you don't know me. Or Tamlin. Why would you even bother?"

He picked an invisible speck of lint off the lapel of his suit jacket, heedless of the wet spot she'd left with her tears. "Would you believe me if I said I searched your name and found myself intrigued by that phallic latte art?"

"No."

"Forgive me for thinking that a woman who lovingly crafted a penis in steamed milk would be the sort of person to host a hell of a party for her wedding reception, then."

A teary laugh escaped Feyre. She wiped at her eyes, coming away with a dark smear of mascara on the side of her hand.

"Tamlin was so mad I didn't private those posts. He said they were undignified. Which was so stupid when he has that poetry account full of erotic limericks, if you can believe it. Amarantha, my boss at the cafe, was such a terror, so I put a dick in the foam of every drink I made during my last week."

"I'm sorry Tamlin didn't appreciate your sense of humor, then."

Rhys was looking with her with such softness in his eyes that Feyre was sure he meant it genuinely. Or maybe not. After all the times she'd replayed that AeroPress review to soothe her after a bad day or a fight with Tamlin, she couldn't be sure the wires weren't getting crossed somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind.

But there wasn't one iota of pity in his gaze. That much, she was sure of.

"Thanks," she whispered, then moved to stand up from the bench. Her foot wobbled.

She nearly screamed in frustration—she'd wanted to wear a pair of white Keds and be done with it, but both Tamlin and Nesta had agreed heels were so much more bridal. They saw eye to eye so rarely that Feyre had gone along with it, and now she was paying the price.

Rhysand reached towards her, intent on preventing her from face-planting into the flagstones. On instinct, Feyre lifted her arms to break her fall.

Her hands settled on his chest. His landed on her hips.

It might as well have been an embrace. The polite thing to do would have been to apologize and put a healthy amount of distance between them. But Feyre couldn't quite bring herself to.

Rhysand didn't move, either.

"Easy," he whispered, voice low. "Do you need help getting home?"

"I— I don't want to go back. I'm not sure if I can really. One of my sisters would probably let me stay with them, at least for a while, and maybe once I've taken a nap I can start thinking about getting my things from Tamlin's place, and—"

"You can hide with me, if you'd like. My offer to help you sneak out still stands."

In all honesty, Feyre wasn't sure what other choice she had. But it was awfully convenient that he'd decided to come to her wedding and that they'd crossed paths at just the right time.

More than convenient, really. This felt closer to fate.

"Alright. Maybe just until I can make some arrangements for something more permanent."

Rhysand actually tutted at her. "At least promise you'll stay long enough for me to make you a cup of coffee."

She could use a warm drink, caffeine jitters be damned. Besides, after all those miserable months making coffee for other people at The Roasters Under the Mountain, it was high time a handsome barista brewed something for her instead.

"I think I'd like that," she said.

After that, she found herself wrapped up in his jacket—"can't do much about a conspicuous white dress, but it's better than nothing"—and wearing his glasses. When she'd questioned whether it was all really necessary, he'd winked and told her that in the years since his channel had hit a million subscribers, he'd gotten adept at slipping out of places unnoticed.

It had drawn a giggle out of her. Feyre couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed like that.

She'd slipped her hand into his as they dashed towards the parking lot. Partially in case her heels gave her more trouble, but also…because it had felt natural. Like her fingers belonged intertwined with his.

They sprinted across the grass, laughing like children. With each step that Feyre took away from the wedding, she felt lighter. Freer.

Her phone and keys were still in the bridal suite. Tamlin had probably already convinced himself she'd been kidnapped. But Feyre didn't care.

All of that could wait until after she'd finished her coffee.

[olesvkasims]

coffee machine | dessert | cups dishsoap | coffee roaster | cuttingboard cookies | utensils | termomix papertowel | small box opened | fruit jar

thank you to the amazing cc creators ♡ @littlbowbub , @soloriya , @pinkbox-anye , @syboubou , @imfromsixam , tuds , @aroundthesims

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[dallasgallant]

Time period post- appliances and thrift

Originally was going to skip making this post, as I thought it’d be boring but I was informed (many times) how it was wanted. Going to combine appliances and some thrifting and shopping related things. As I think it would be beneficial, as the boys are poor/impoverished so we should look at some of that side of purchasing - as many of my general time period posts are very middle class to soc range (at least in the images of new cleaned and polished) Home related posts;

Here and here

Something to keep in mind is location and the community. Some places, especially smaller towns take a long time to change or update, a lot of “mainstreets” or “squares” in older parts of town have the same buildings or styles from maybe even when they were first built or at least updated in the 1960s and still look like it today. So imagine back then! Lol. Even if a community has a rich minority, like the socs- that’s no guarantee the area modernizes into something brand new over night.

Convenience, gadgets and built ins-

Truly the time to be a lover of the gadget or the trinket. The continuation of post war production boom and making products with the idea of convenience in mind. A lot of it was ridiculous but really there was some cool stuff. The big trend was : Automatic and electric.

Electricity and electric things had really started to take to the public in the 1880s and we never really stopped electrifying basic items. Notable cases here; Electric knife, electric beaters/mixers (still hand held but not done by hand), electric/motorized can openers.

Gadgets! Things that would’ve been done by the stove and the over now with dedicated little devices. Now toasters and waffle irons and grittles had already been around for some time but were booming. Meat grinders (electric ones anyway), roasters, blender, drip coffee maker, hot trays/warming trays.

Another reason for the rise in gadgets or specific tools like a warming pan would be just how popular hosting and throwing parties was. (Much more soc). At the same time as more specific gadgets were made there was also a trend of combining! As kitchens were small and again, connivence.

You’d also see radios or even later counter tvs (impossibly tiny) pop up in kitchens.

Laundry-

A lot of homes at the time would only have one bath, especially if older and it was likely added in (if very old), so forget a laundry room. However, they were slowly rising in popularity and bathroom numbers too in more modern homes. Laundry machines did exist for a while but it’s sort of like electricity and AC some people didn’t have them or are still getting around to getting them — and when they did it’d sometimes be on the porch or garage or where they’d fit.

Laundromats would populate towns, still do but in this case it was less common than today to have a full set and bonus gadgets in your home. (Though your iron etc at home) or maybe there’d be a woman who does it for the neighborhood or apartment complex etc (headcanon Steve’s mom as a washwoman. I know they still existed but all the info I get is 1700s Scottish women… I feel insane)

Not so fast -

The world wasn’t like it is with microtrends and using/wearing/having something for a week or a summer and then tossing it out. There were trends but far longer lasting, and if someone was to make a commitment to say doing their home in a design trend, once all that work is done they wouldn’t change it for years (some never do! Look at all the untouched houses on the market every so often)

Appliances were made to last and often came with a Warranty, either discounted or free replacement or repair for a certain period of time. If you’re lucky a lifetime warranty. This stuff was built to last a lifetime! Tough, dependable, durable. It’s why the “garage fridge” exists in so many middle class homes today, it’s out of style but it still works perfect so now we have a soda fridge or extra storage.

Honestly if you had to replace or update annually back then it’d probably be seen as a bad or cheap product!

This isn’t to say people never updated, or changed based around style. But you first have to have the money for it and two it’s a treat, not a regular occurrence. So maybe in 10 or 20 years if you need new kitchen appliances or would like to restyle you go for it.

Thrift and used-

Especially relevant to the guys. Think it’d be rare if they bought a single thing new - that wasn’t used or loaned etc

Thrift stores, surplus stores, charity’s, churches, there’s always been ways to get things at a much more affordable rate. Even thrift food stores in some circumstances (no it’s not pre used).

Used car lots were also incredibly common, honestly it’s how most kids got their first car. Most people really! Now if you didn’t get totally swindled.

Thrift isn’t just relegated to physical thrift stores either, a lot of local businesses (places that aren’t the department store or major chain) would often have a used section or “used store”. Appliances, records - just about anything.

Layaway! A store sets an item or a bunch of purchases aside and you make incremental payments until the purchase is paid off. Then it’s yours. (Began during the Great Depression)

Rental, and rent to pay started conceptually post ww2 but Rent-A-Center itself was founded in 1973 so I’m not completely set on renting.

Coupons! Another way to save money and be able to make purchases, given in newspapers, adds, by the stores themselves. Rewards programs really kicked off in the 60s, one of the most common being S&H Green Stamps. (Some hang on the builtin board in the museum.) these would be gotten at check out and some other businesses and collected by customers, to be redeemed for items from their catalogs. You could get everything from appliances to makeup from how you saved and spent.

While I’m not getting into it, I did include thrift and some other things that are more relevant to the boys -> 1964 Food Stamp Act that saw the Creation of SNAP (food stamps) would be huge. However programs stem all the way back to the depression once again, more here

They Would have way older appliances and machinery- 40s old sometimes. Boys specifically have a Dixie stove and this old washer is an assumption of mine (if they had one at all!!)