The coffee dripper that never existed in Hans (Nick) Roericht’s tc 100 stacking tableware system (1959): a specifically domestic extension of a series meant for restaurants but universal enough to be used elsewhere.

The common dimensions and self-stacking aspect of the series are reconciled with the top-heavy shape of the paper filter (Melitta Bentz, 1908; Wolfgang Horst Bentz, 1936), a standard choice last century and today.

The upper cylinder and handle are modelled closely on the tc 100 cups, the base unit of the system. The handle is specifically modelled on that of the earliest production version, which tapers more as it meets the main body compared to later revisions. The bottom is sized to sit on top of a 0.6 litre tc 100 pitcher, the type I use for coffee every morning. The ring and dripper outlet are based on details from the bottoms of other pieces from series like the serving trays.

The top of the cone is sized such that the bottom ring of another dripper can can fit into it for stacking. This is a different stacking principle than the rest of the tc 100 series but it’s a necessary adaptation for a piece that needs a large opening at the top to fit around a cone-shaped filter.

Any other dimensions are based on the Melitta no. 4 paper filter. I know many people prefer Hario or other improved filter designs, but this standard makes sense with the tc 100 series’ origin (postwar West Germany) and it’s appropriately normal — inexpensive and widespread in the functionalist ideal.

As we see in Nick Roericht’s thesis document, the tc 100 series was designed to meet the needs of restaurants and cafeterias, rather than the home. Coffee in these settings comes directly from a machine or from an insulated tank, so a coffee dripper making enough for two people at most didn’t fit into this scheme.

Many other coffee pots from this time time had the option of a matching coffee dripper, but these were more intended for individuals and families. These tended to have a cosier, more traditional look. The design relationships within these sets, however, informed the way I drew on existing formal elements of the tc 100 series.

Now that original Thomas tc 100 pieces can only be found secondhand in unpredictable quantities, they’re more likely to be used at home where ease of replacement is less important than design quality and space efficiency. (Most of the basic tc 100 cups, plates, and bowls have been reissued, but not the pitchers or teapots.)

After ten design iterations, the latest version shown here is a PLA model finished in dematerializing primer grey. Plaster moulds of a scaled-up blank haven’t produced satisfactory results in slip casting so far. I’m not a skilled potter or ceramicist — so if you are, I would be very interested in working with you to make high-quality, consistent porcelain pieces that match the industrially-produced tc 100 series.

Please let me know so I can gauge interest and let you know as soon as the porcelain version is ready. If you’ve already expressed interest elsewhere, thank you, consider yourself accounted for.

Guten Tag! I hope it’s clear that “Tasty coffee one hundred” is an artistic commentary on the tc 100 design and the philosophy of the Ulm School more broadly; not intended for sale through horeca channels. It does not supplant any existing tc 100 piece — but it does add value to the series as a bridge to the domestic context. Please get in touch if you’d like to know more.

On top of the pitcher, in use.

On itself for storage.