Three of the five coffees on this shelf tell you a temperature. Marginalism wants 96 to 98 °C, Time Preference wants 90 to 92, and Imputation wants 92 to 96. Until now the only thing we sold you to meet those numbers was a thermometer, which is a way of finding out whether you were right rather than a way of being right.
This is the tool instead of the workaround. You set the target and the kettle holds it, which removes the entire guessing step — off the boil, count to thirty, hope — that stands between a recipe and the cup it describes. The 0.9-litre body is sized for a single brew rather than a household, and the brew timer runs in the same glance as the temperature.
The gooseneck is the other half of the argument, and it is the half people underrate. A wide domestic spout dumps water; a gooseneck lets you place it, which is what makes the difference between an even bed and a channelled one. Pour-over is a technique that rewards control, and a kettle you cannot aim withholds most of it.
Wieser's test for what a factor of production is worth was to ask what you lose when you withdraw one unit of it. Withdraw temperature control from a light Ethiopian natural and you will have your answer by the second sip.
