Sisters of Steam:
Building an Espresso Machine in Monte Cerignone, Italy
The road to Monte Cerignone twisted through the Italian countryside, a ribbon of stone and dust winding past olive groves and ancient chapels.
Their destination wasn’t a famous café, nor a luxury espresso bar. It was something far rarer: a beautiful workshop where, piece by piece, they would build their own espresso machine—not from a kit, not from a manual, but from raw metal, steam, and skill.
"wanna go to Italy and build your own espresso machine?”
When Darrien (Mom) and I purchased our business, the espresso machine was already 12 years old.
One day, a customer came in and mentioned that he had friends who built espresso machines in Italy—and that Lyndsay and I might have the opportunity to build one ourselves.
Being adventurous sisters, we immediately said yes!
Before we knew it, we were on a plane to Monte Cerignone, Italy, a small town where XLVI headquarters is located. The owner, Diego, welcomed us with open arms. Not only was he incredibly kind and hospitable, but he was also a true genius when it came to espresso machines.
A Workshop of Time and Tradition
Monte Cerignone is a small village—XLVI is perched high in the hills of Italy’s countryside.
The sisters parked adjacent to a beautiful medieval building and followed the scent of scorched metal and fresh coffee to a heavy glass door.
We were greeted by the owner of XLVI, a talented smiley Italian man named Diego.
The moment we met Diego, he was so proud to take us into his showroom. He showed us the selection of machines that he has ingeniously created. One of those creations was the Steamhammer which we adore due to the ability to customize. We asked if we could customize the back into glass and the rubber into olive wood from Puglia, Italy.
Inside, the workshop hummed with quiet purpose. Tools hung in neat rows, brass and copper gleamed under the soft light, and half-assembled espresso machines lined the walls like sleeping giants.
Bolt by Bolt, Screw by Screw
They started with the frame—heavy, unyielding metal, the skeleton of what would become their machine. Arielle watched as Lyndsay tightened the first screws, her fingers careful but hesitant. Arielle, ever impatient, grabbed a wrench and started on the next piece.
Over the next week, they learned the language of the machine. The boiler—its pulse. The pipes—its veins. The lever—the handshake between barista and brew.
Lyndsay fell in love with the mechanics, the satisfaction of fitting pieces together until they locked in harmony. Arielle, always the perfectionist, obsessed over the pressure gauge, the steam release, the tiny calibrations that would turn hot water and ground coffee into something sublime.
And the lever—the Hammer—demanded respect. They learned to feel the resistance, to pull it with intention, to release steam with precision. It was no button, no automatic switch. It was a relationship, one that required trust.
On the final day, their machine stood gleaming—a fusion of copper, ancient olive wood, and their own labor.
Leaving Monte Cerignone, Forever Changed
They had come to Monte Cerignone as sisters. They left as craftswomen, as builders of something tangible, something they could pass down.
Because this machine, this work of their hands, wasn’t just about coffee. It was a lesson. A ritual. A reminder that the best things in life are made with patience, precision, and passion.
And did we mention... it makes an outstanding espresso shot.
