I have never owned anything that I care about as much as my vintage La Marzocco GS.
And frankly, that's kind of underselling how I feel about the machine. It's a rare piece of coffee history -- but it's also an incredibly important part of my personal story.
I loved my time working in coffee. I loved the people I worked with. I loved (and love) coffee. But sadly, I don't have a ton of connection to that part of my life anymore. When I left Stumptown there were very few co-workers who remained friends with me. And when I left the coffee business, there were very few business colleagues and acquaintances who remained friends. Over time, many of those who remained have drifted away. But a few, a small few, stayed with me. One of them is a guy named Terry Ziniewicz. Terry and I met while I was at Stumptown, and became close after I'd left. Over time I became tight with not just Terry, but also his amazing partner Kelly and his entire family. When Terry sold his company Espresso Parts NW, he gifted me the espresso machine that had been his long-time booth machine. The GS.
Terry knew that I loved the La Marzocco GS and dreamed of one day owning one. So he made my dream come true. And that's how the vintage GS became my most treasured possession. It was my connection to Terry and Kelly. It was my connection to coffee (and my time in coffee). And it was an incredibly kind, thoughtful, and meaningful gift.
Of course, none of this would matter if the thing produced Nespresso caliber espresso. But that machine? That machine was not only special, and meaningful, and historical, and (frankly) sexy AF.... In the hands of a skilled barista it also produced amazing espresso.
And for roughly two decades, I used it most every day to make drinks for myself and for Valerie. I used it to make drinks for friends. I used it. Pretty much daily.
But using a 1970s vintage Italian commercial espresso machine as your daily source of coffee is a bit like using a 1970s vintage Italian sports car as your daily driver. The joke about actually driving vintage Italian sports cars is that you need a mechanic small enough to fit into the trunk (with all their tools). And that joke became some painful foreshadowing for me over time.
At first, the issues were small. The brew button's actuator broke and it turned out that the company that made the part went out of business back in the 1980s or something. And these small issues were always things I could work around. Sure, I couldn't brew and steam at the same time as I had to manually hold down the brew button to brew. Other small things failed like the steam wand gasket, but we figured shit out.
But then the leaks started.
For context, early La Marzocco GSs are notorious for the leaks. They did not have groups that were welded onto the boiler. Instead, the groups were bolted on using a janky "cage" set up and a big old gasket. Needless to say, these gaskets would start to leak as they aged. And replacing the gasket was a huge challenge due to the way the cage was used to bold the group on. So every once in a while, the machine would be out of service for a while for repair (often by Terry of course). This was non-optimal, but was something I could manage.
But then the leaks got worse.
You see, as that boiler and that group and those gaskets heat cycled, things stop fitting. Metal deformed. Things stopped aligning and most of all, things stopped sealing. Last year, Terry flew over to Kauai and brought parts and tools and crazy ideas for how to fix the leaks. And it worked.
For a little while.
But then there was a small leak - and this time it shorted out a switch. So the machine had to be shut down, a part sourced and replaced, and then (with fingers crossed) the machine was fired up while we all watched to see if there would be leaking. And there was no leaking!
At first.
But then the leaking started again, and soon after that, there was another short. But this time it was the controller for the machine. And most of all, it had become clear that there was no stopping the leaks anymore. Perhaps the boiler is too warped now. Perhaps the group attachment is deformed. Or maybe the machine is just simply old and tired.
Regardless, I realized it was time to let it go. It was time to say goodbye.
The only thing that makes this moment okay for me is that the GS is heading back to Terry. I'd left the machine to his son in my will anyway - and it was time for it to return. I hope that Terry is able to do something amazing with it. He's talking about interesting resto-mod ideas, and he's the kind of mad scientist who probably will be able to pull something amazing off. And that will be great. It will be amazing to see that machine functional again.
It breaks my heart to say goodbye. But it's time.
And it definitely makes it easier to say farewell when I've just taken delivery of a brand new Slayer Single Group. Sure... it's not a piece of coffee history. Yeah... it doesn't have the same personal meaning. And OK... it's nowhere near as sexy. But it's a very, very nice espresso machine. And it's brand new. And it's under warranty. All the parts are currently being made (and are available). It runs on standard household power. And everything works.
I will never stop missing the GS. But I'm one week into owning the Slayer, and it's really good. The shots are good. Steaming milk is 1,000,000 times easier than on the GS. Most of all... it's just low stress.
Goodbye GS. I've loved you - and I always will love you.
Hello Slayer. You are the first espresso machine I've ever actually purchased - and I think you're going to be great.
