Review: Balmuda MoonKettle

I often like new-fangled things that look or act like old-fangled things. An infrared heater that looks like an old box amp of unknown origin? Silly retro-tech? Count me in.

But the new MoonKettle from Japanese brand Balmuda is something else altogether. The stainless steel MoonKettle is an elegant intersection of extremes: a hair-precise and quite modern digital electric kettle whose moony, loop-handled form looks nonetheless decidedly ancient.

Its makers have alternately said they were inspired by Yaoguan kettles forged among the five famous kilns of China, by old Japanese teacraft, or perhaps by the spirit of reverence itself. The MoonKettle is a little bit 19th-century cast iron, a little bit Yixing brass—and maybe a little bit third-wave coffee geek. The kettle offers surprisingly robust temperature control for a device that goes to such lengths to look archaic.

The kettle, released March 6, comes in two colors, black and white. This almost tricks you into wanting both, a hot-water yang and yin. But doing so would be an extravagance. As with many of Balmuda's exquisitely design-forward devices, the $260 MoonKettle costs a bit more than you expect.

But unlike Balmuda's previous gooseneck, which privileged its lovely art deco style over added functionality, the MoonKettle has a genuine place on the counter for the modern tea or coffee nerd.

Play Me a Little Tune

But first, a little song and dance.

Balmuda is a 22-year-old Japanese brand made famous in the United States by a pretty little steam-assisted toaster oven that makes implausibly good toast. The device went viral on TikTok a couple years ago, as it was always destined to do. (WIRED liked it first, 8/10, WIRED Recommends, before it even was even technically sold here, mannnnnnnnnn.)

Balmuda makes precious few and quite disparate items: a toaster oven, a coffee brewer, a lantern, a speaker. Each tends to be a small miracle of lovable design, with odd little touches meant to make you fall in love with your appliance. Each is also often quirky, for better and for worse. FWIW, we still have that toaster oven among our favorites.

The MoonKettle, like a few other Balmuda devices, likes to play you a brief melody when you start your water on the path to boiling, a bit reminiscent of the boot music to a laptop. This might be a little three-note trip up or down a pentatonic scale. It might be a few notes on what sounds maybe like a zitherlike gu zheng: You can choose in the kettle's settings which music makes you thirsty for a hot brewed beverage.

Then, as heating begins in earnest, you hear the echoey recorded ticking of a clock, interspersed with a few more musical notes, before heating begins in earnest. When it's done, you'll receive a little plucked or plunked “ta-da!” as the water reaches your desired temperature.

You can also set this feature to silent. I go back and forth. But as with my Zojirushi rice cooker's habit of playing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” when my rice begins, the three-note music is a friendly touch.

Holding Pattern

But notice I said that the water in the kettle reaches a “desired temperature,” not a boil. The most useful feature on this MoonKettle, less common than it should be even among our favorite kettles, is a real-time water temperature display and the ability to heat and hold water to a precision of a single degree.

No vague “green tea” setting here, and especially no mere relentless march to boil. The lack of precise temperature control was troubling on Balmuda's otherwise lovely-looking previous-generation kettle. Its addition on the MoonKettle is quite welcome.

In case you're wondering why precise temperature control might be necessary: Not all teas like the same temperature. An aged pu-erh might steep best close to boiling point, but other black teas might be happiest at 204 or 208 degrees Fahrenheit, lest they release terrible bitterness at boiling. Oolong might want a temp below 200, while truly delicate teas, whether white or green or yellow, might want water in the 170s.

Ideal coffee brewing temps are even more finicky, whether we're talking Aeropress, French press, or pour-over. The ideal temp might depend on the bean, or it might depend on which YouTube channels you watch.

Anyway, the MoonKettle makes this modulation pretty easy, without a wacky control panel full of buttons. Hit Start, and the target temperature will flash. This is an invitation to toggle your temperature using a little dial on the right side of the kettle's heating base.

Hit start again once you've chosen, and your water will begin boiling. From here, the base's display will show the real-time temperature of the water in the kettle as it heats. While the water is still heating, this display tended to be accurate within the error range of the probe I used.

As a safety mechanism, the kettle will shut itself off by default upon reaching boil. And of course, it'll play a little tune. To keep the burner on for an additional 30 minutes, press the Hold button either before or immediately after the kettle reaches temp.

While on hold, the kettle's heat will then cycle on once every few minutes to keep the water near the target temp. In practice, the temperature variance on the holding function was about 5 degrees Fahrenheit, meaning the heat tended to kick back on when the water temp drifted down by about 5 degrees.

All of this makes for a beautifully useful kettle—one of the very few kettles on the American market that can actually make an argument for the precision of its water-heating technology while also being frankly beautiful on a countertop.

But at What Cost

That said, the MoonKettle doesn't do your laundry, compliment your spouse when you forget, or do your grocery shopping. And $260 is quite a lot to pay for a water kettle.

At this high price, you start coming up with things not to like. Why, for example, is the MoonKettle a mere 1,200 watts instead of the more standard 1,500 watts comfortably allowed on a standard United States circuit?

This means the MoonKettle takes almost precisely five minutes to boil a liter of water from room temperature near sea level. A little bit more juice would allow the kettle to boil in four minutes instead. I'm rarely in a situation where this extra minute is pivotal or even relevant, but once I've spent $260 on a water kettle, I'd like to speak to the manager.

(All of these boiling times probably sound insane to British readers. But bear with us! Water boils slower in the United States. Our outlets are a mere 120 volts, and our amperage is hamstrung. We're trying.)

The MoonKettle is also a bit of a generalist. It's not optimized for craft coffee pour-over, though its spout's lower lip does taper to a slender outlet for semi-precise pours. Still, if you're looking for a beautiful, temperature-precise kettle for needle-precise pour-over, get yourself a Fellow Stagg instead.

But speaking as someone who's had it on his counter for a week or two, the MoonKettle does sit quite handsomely there. It'll be difficult to dislodge it.