Well, the Moka pot was designed for kitchens in Italy post war; that is good enough for me. It meant that people at home could approximate (if ever so roughly) what they could buy from those gleaming hissing machines in the sort of premises where you bought your espresso, stood, and gulped.
Although I am known to my friends and colleagues as an impossible espresso and coffee snob (and they wonder, openly, at what they view as my extraordinary capacity for excess consumption; five doubles a day is nothing!), I realise, (sob) that I fall far short of the demanding standards so eloquently expressed on this thread.
Fear not, my Moka and I will blunder happily to perdition together.
Life is too short to strive for perfection in every sphere; I'll settle for 'good enough' when circumstances demand such.
Besides, while I like the idea of some post-modern contraption, and loathe the idea of mad muscularity (no guys; life is too short for contemplating and calculating the angle, leverage, power, and sheer physical co-ordination involved before my first espresso of the day; actually, before my first five espressos, I can barely string two sentences together, let alone move my arm while mastering polite speech. To ask me to master this before addressing and consuming my first five espressos is too much.....) there are limits to what suffering I will undergo to achieve espresso perfection. (If this means that I lack the fervour of the true faith, so be it. I am known for my profound lack of fervour in many fields of endeavour....).
To my comrades here: This - ah - fusion of pleasure and pain (as described by some) mystifies me. And I don't buy it.
Espresso is pure pleasure. I have no wish to suffer when preparing it, a ritual of muttering, classical music, dressing gowns, ignored mobile phones, and quiet, contemplative contentment.
Good grief, my poor, battered (as it is an aged model), much loved (a present from my godmother, who was my mum's best friend from boarding-school oh, countless decades ago, who presented it to me, two decades ago, after a trip to Italy, knowing that I loved coffee) Moka only gets an outing when there are no time constraints..