The term “prosumer” was coined by American writer and futurist Alvin Toffler in his 1980 book The Third Wave. Though Toffler was alive during the proliferation of the coffee industry’s so-called third wave (he died in 2016), his book has nothing to do with neighborhood cafés transitioning from grungy gathering places with names like Kewl Beanz to minimalist cupping labs replete with white subway tile, reclaimed barn wood, and mustachioed caricatures of urbane liberal arts grads.

Initially the term was purposefully vague, referring broadly to a class of citizens who “ … consume and produce value, either for self-consumption or consumption by others.” It’s since been co-opted by irksome gearheads like myself as a mild pejorative for high-end gadgetry that’s a price class above that which the commoner can afford, but still well below the threshold of what anyone who uses said gadget for a living would ever consider adding to their toolkit.

It’s unsurprising that the coffee industry is plagued with prosumer gear that’s aggressively marketed toward caffeine addicts who are excited about doing their neighborhood comparative studies major’s work for them in the comfort of their own home.

As a former barista who was spoiled for more than a decade on $15,000 espresso machines from brands like La Marzocco and Rancilio, I am adamantly opposed to taking matters into my own hands. I would rather leave my house and pay a professional with a hangover and a bad attitude to pull my shot than mess about with a flimsy machine that uses vibey colorways and quirky features to distract from the lack of firepower or consistency.

The delta between a workhorse commercial-grade espresso machine and that hunk of metallic junk with a silly Italian name you’ll add to your wedding registry at Target is vast—generally in the ballpark of several thousand dollars. Is the desire for home-brewed espresso a sincere justification for rolling the dice on a machine that can’t possibly touch the quality of what the pros use?

Down to Business

My current abode is the first place I’ve lived in my adult life that’s not a short walk to a coffee shop, so I figured it’s a better time than any to see whether the home espresso machine market has finally figured its shit out. The $200-ish range on Amazon is quite crowded with junk brands, but respectable prosumer brands like Breville and De'Longhi materialize once you move upmarket past the $500 mark. This is where I found the Casabrews 5700PRO, a no-nonsense machine that boasts a handful of predictable features that looked like they would get the job done without lecturing me on extraction times or playing “La Cucaracha” every time I pulled a shot.

For someone who’s spent 15 years dialing in commercial machines that get the job done with just a few knobs and buttons, this looked like the utilitarian solution to my made-up problem of not being able to walk to a coffee shop when that 2 pm crash hits.

The 5700PRO was a breeze to set up after I cleared off enough counter space to accommodate its 12 x 11 x 13-inch footprint (16 inches high if you include the top of the bean hopper). It includes all the handy tools needed for espresso extraction: a 58-mm portafilter, a frothing pitcher, a tamper, a distributor, a silicon tamping mat, and a dosing cup with brush. Notably absent is a knock box and a backflush filter. After screwing one of the two included grinders into the hole and clicking the hopper into place, adding water to the rear-mounted reservoir, and turning the unit on, the “Preheating” notice on the spartan gray-and-black LED display disappeared and I was ready to start pulling shots in about 30 seconds.

The dial to adjust the grind size is tactile and easy to view. A six-step quick start guide is stuck to the back wall of the extraction area, and I chose 8 on the grinder per its suggestion of somewhere between 7 and 10 as the optimal setting. Grind time is adjusted by pushing in the silver jog dial below the display to select “Single” or “Double,” then using the same dial to choose the run time for each setting in seconds. Single shots are for weirdos—or so several barista training sessions led by Stumptown, Coava, and Water Avenue Coffee taught me to believe back in my Portland barista days—so we’ll be dealing strictly with 2-ounce shots as the Lord (and Daddy Duane) intended.

I loaded up the hopper with the finest organic Ethiopian light roast Costco had to offer (available on Amazon too—choose your fighter), clicked the portafilter into the guide rails under the grinder, then pushed it in to start the grinder. Here I encountered the first major flaw with the 5700PRO: The clearance between the output spout of the grinder and the top of the portafilter is about an inch. If you’re grinding enough beans for a double shot, the grounds pile up into the grinder spout, eventually spilling off the pile and onto the grate below if you don’t carefully distribute the grinds across the basket as they fall. An extra inch would do wonders here, but the plastic piece that holds the guide rails does not appear to be adjustable.

A grind setting of 8 paired with a 19-second double shot setting consistently outputs 20.5 grams of grounds. Next up is a soft knock against the tamping mat, a spin of the distributor, and a hefty tamp. The tamper weighs about 400 grams, which is 100 less than I would prefer. It’s also about 2 millimeters too small for the portafilter, which leaves a ring of strays littered around the tamped grounds. Nothing a light tap of the tamper head won’t fix—then it’s off to the extraction step.

Nice Shot

The 5700PRO boasts a single boiler paired with a 1500-watt motor and an “Italian pump” that outputs 20 bars of pressure. Comparable units from Breville and De'Longhi boast 9 and 15 bars, respectively, with lower numbers equating to higher pressure. Only five of the 50 shots I pulled in the span of a month triggered the “over pressure” error, which is acceptable considering the 20.5-gram dose I defaulted to in my testing. The portafilter twists onto the grouphead with a satisfying “clunk,” and the dedicated double shot button starts the extraction.

My test shots averaged a drop time of 12 seconds and a final extraction time of 31 seconds. The tannic, citrusy notes of the Ethiopian beans popped on the first sip, with a rich and pronounced crema yielding to a smooth bittersweet liquid below. A pump with a higher bar count would likely produce a richer shot if dialed in properly, but the average quality of the test shots pulled by the 5700PRO was far beyond my expectations for a $600 machine that’s readily available on Amazon.

The milk frother surpassed expectations as well. The unit has only one boiler, which means you can’t froth your milk while you pull a shot, but the ability to do all of this in your kitchen makes up for the extra minute it takes for the steam wand to warm up when you turn the dial on the right side of the machine from “Off” to “Steam Ready.” Once the white light on the dial stops flashing, you’re ready to start steaming your milk.

There’s a six-second delay between the turn of the knob to the steam setting and the onset of the actual steam, and it took an average of 55 seconds to raise 6 ounces of whole milk from 45 to 145 degrees Fahrenheit with some light frothing action. My latte-art skills are rusty since leaving the coffee world behind in 2022, but the texture of the frothed milk was perfectly malleable and up to snuff for a basic leaf or rosetta pattern.

No BS

A deeper dive into the settings menu on the Casabrews reveals very few adjustable parameters besides the aforementioned grind time for each shot type, as well as the output temperature for the hot water, which uses a vague three-point “Hotter” and “Cooler” scale. A flush feature quickly pumps out whatever liquid remains stored in the grouphead and the steam wand, and a descale cycle that’s recommended on a monthly basis to keep the unit gunk-free.

I never considered myself a consummate professional in the bustling coffee industry of the Pacific Northwest, but I knew enough about the craft to make a quality, no-frills product with as little nonsense as possible. The Casabrews 5700PRO aligns perfectly with my allergy to bullshit, but it’s hard to ignore the preponderance of bells and whistles offered by comparable machines from more well-known brands within this price range.

Ninja, for example, recently entered the space with the $500 ES601 unit. It includes handy storage orifices for its accessories, as well as all sorts of visual hand-holding for people who know nothing about the science behind extraction but love it when their appliances sing a little ditty when the thing they’re making is ready.

I would much rather spend a few weeks learning the ins and outs of a well-made machine that does the thing it’s supposed to do and little else. I may one day decide that I need (Tim Allen voice) more power in my espresso machine, but until then I’ll enjoy pulling shots in my kitchen—with or without pants—thanks to the Casabrews 5700PRO.