A professionwide interest in brewed coffee has driven the stealth spread of the Clover. Introduced less than two years ago, it has become standard equipment at some of the country’s most progressive cafes, including Intelligentsia in Chicago, La Mill in Los Angeles and Caffe Vita in Seattle.

Stumptown, of Portland, Ore., recently installed four Clovers in its location in the Ace Hotel. New York City now has five of the devices, two of them at the Chelsea branch of Café Grumpy, which has used them to dispense 60,000 cups in a little over a year.

So far, the Clover is still something of a cult object, with just over 200 machines scattered around the world. But it might soon become a common sight: Starbucks has just bought two.

The Clover is something you have to see in person to truly appreciate. First, there is the heft of the thing. This is not a small machine. All the polished stainless and brushed aluminum surfaces make make a gear maven swoon.

The process of making a cup of coffee with a Clover is something akin to a ritual. I happen to have a studio just down the street from Staufs Coffee Roasters, one of the authorized resellers of the Clover.

I spend a rather inordinate amount of time at Staufs: sipping espresso in the morning, taking my lunch (sans shoes) on the sunny sidewalk outside, weekend evenings after a scoop from Jeni’s Ice Cream next door.

Yes, I know, it’s a tough life. Let’s get back to the ritual, shall we?

We begin with the preparation of the grind. Next controls are adjusted to compliment the particulars of the selected bean and roast. The coffee is mounded on the smooth circle on top and then the Clover is off and running.

As the piston drops, the would-be coffee snob twitters with anticipation.

The machine adds water via the spigot and the barista uses a wisk to gently prod the mixture. After the requisite brewing time, the piston comes back up and then drops down again, compressing the coffee into your cup.

When finished, the piston comes back up, magically revealing the spent puck of coffee. The barista then squeegees the delightful looking muck into the machine’s waste compartment.

Muck isn’t exactly a fair characterization. I must admit that it actually looks quite tasty, a perfectly round little coffee cake.

The barista will examine remains to judge whether the brew was mixed too much or too little. I believe they judge this by the mounding of the cake, but while I can easily see that not all cakes are created equal the difference in the taste of the coffee has been negligible.

To me, this is just part of the fun that is Clover.

Oh, and the coffee? The best brewed cup of joe you will ever experience.

From the streets of Zürich…

Until you see a Smart in person, you really can’t grasp how tiny it really is, especially when you see it parked on the street next to regular cars. SUVs were far and few in between when I was in Europe last. The majority of cars were about the size of today’s Honda civic (or my own 97 Accord). And even then, the Smart looked like a toy!

I’m sure there is something about the efficiency of a car like the Smart, so small and tidy, that makes it appeal to programmers. I really can’t explain my own obsession with this little car beyond that idea of compact necessity. I had a similar yen for the Mini, but it couldn’t quite compete with the plucky spirit of the Smart. (though the Mini is a really fun car to drive)

According to the Smart USA site, you can reserve a Smart for just $99. MSRP on the base model is just $11.5K and for $2K more you can upgrade to the “Passion” model which gives you a bit more doodads.