In today’s Western Mail from Wales, author Marcus Leroux espouses the virtues of the “diminutive espresso” above all other forms of coffee, whether adulterated with milk foam or not: icWales – We love… Espresso.
He looks at Wales and the UK coffee scene and decides, quite rightfully, the single espresso is the king of coffee, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Not a lot to learn from this article — other than I could not agree with him more.
In the April 6 edition of Zeek (“a Jewish journal of thought and culture”), author Esther Solomon writes a brief overview of espresso consumption in Israel: Zeek | Move Over Starbucks: Israel’s “Upside Down” Coffee Saga | Esther Solomon.
Included in her article:
Some people I know refuse to “speak Starbucks”. Sure, they have coffee beverages that come in a venti size — even if that literally means “twenty” in Italian (and not as in “twenty trips to the bathroom”). And if you order a latte in Italy, you would get a glass of milk — its literal translation, and not the caffè latte most Americans have come to expect.
But I draw the line at the macchiato — a fine espresso beverage that seems to be greatly misunderstood, underappreciated, and all the more coopted by treacherous impostors. So here’s my dilemma. It’s the dilemma of many an espresso lover I know who, while they want a little steamed milk, actually like the taste of coffee and don’t need a 44-ounce Super Big Gulp® to prove it.
Ordering a European-style cappuccino in North America is a lot harder than it sounds. There’s a continental obsession with large sizes of anything we ingest; the concept of drinking something for taste but not also to quench your thirst is about as American as a sold out David Hasselhoff concert. And since there’s only so much espresso you can drink before you need defibrillator paddles, most coffee places make up the volume with milk.
So if you want something close to a European-style cappuccino, many I know order a macchiato — which, from Italian, literally means “marked” or “spotted” (as with milk). But then I made the horrendous mistake of first walking into a Blenz in downtown Vancouver a few years back and innocently ordering a “macchiato.” In return, I was handed a milkshake-sized beverage in a plastic tub, coated with whipped cream and a lattice-work of caramel.
At first I thought I lost something in translation from American English to the Canadian mother tongue. But then I started to notice similar mutant beverages sold under the name “macchiato” in Seattle, then Northern California, etc. Oh sure, one sure workaround is to order a caffè macchato. (Technically, there is the latte macchiato — milk spotted with coffee.) But that’s just one more foothold of coffee lovers surrendered to the linguistic gymnastics of Corporate Coffee Consumption, Inc.
Everyone’s favorite bathroom read, Automatic Merchandiser online, today reported on the growing trend of point-of-sale kiosks in coffee shops: Caribou Coffee Installs Point Of Sale Kiosks In Stores To Service Customers Faster @ Vending Market Watch News at AMonline.com. (Also here.)
Yes, Caribou Coffee, that Minneapolis, MN-based chain that’s taking over the Midwestern U.S. by following a path paved by Starbucks, has been experimenting with more automated ways to collect and process customer coffee orders more quickly. Can the return of the Automat be far behind?
Or let’s even take things a step further. We already have the likes of Starbucks resorting to a global strategy of idiot-proof push button Verismo machines to maintain their store growth with an ever larger, ever less-skilled workforce. Is it hard to envision a world where the customer bypasses the barista entirely — pushing their own button on a touch-screen kiosk to order their double-tall, four-pump vanilla caramel macchiato?
As milk frothing also becomes more automated, some major chains could eliminate the barista entirely — directing customers towards a self-service model. Like the soda fountains at some fast food chains and movie theaters, it’s not just gas stations anymore. “Here’s your cup… have at it.”
Of course, what’s motivating this is the drive to streamline sales and customer turnover. Undoubtedly, there will always be a market for better service and higher quality, but volume-based businesses are largely going to compete through their optimization of product delivery.
A related article in today’s Salt Lake Tribune documented the case of what happens when Starbucks expats, tired of the obsessive focus on sales, start their own coffee shop with an emphasis on the customer in mind … and then a Starbucks moves within 30 feet of their new shop: Coffee & Cram.
This small Middle Eastern café near the TransBay Terminal (technically in the Bechtel Building) is easy to overlook. But that’s where I hope Web sites like this one come in.
In addition to their espresso bar, they have a full-service deli … and they also offer one of the few decent falafel sandwiches in the area. A family owned & operated establishment, it’s a friendly and even sometimes fun place — with an Algerian owner at the register who likes to play a variety of international music choices, from Italian opera to Dean Martin. They also adhere to informal Mediterranean hours — sometimes chasing you out if you don’t vacate before prayers at 12:45pm on Fridays.
In 2005, they replaced their two-group La San Marco with a La Spaziale (you may even notice their CoffeeRatings.com review laminated and posted on the rear of the machine). But despite the equipment change, the results haven’t changed much over the years. They are quite consistent in their espresso preparation, and they serve it with a rich, deep brown, thick crema. It has a flavor of smoke, pepper, and a honey-like sweetness with a nice, long, smooth aftertaste.
Zino, their master barista, shows his expert skills: Cafe Algiers cleans the groups, preheats cups, and takes all the necessary time to tamp and pull a proper shot to technical specs. The owner — who fills in when Zino isn’t around — tends to pull his shots a bit longer and the resulting cup can have a lighter-colored crema. This is the source of any inconsistency at this establishment, but it’s a solid cup regardless. No push-button espresso here: once flanked by two Starbucks on the same block, they have to be good to survive. (And given that the Starbucks at the corner of Beale & Mission Sts. shut down in early 2006, they’re winning this war.) They serve it in tall, Caffè Umbria-branded IPA cups.
The Sunday New York Times Travel section featured an article on Rome and the flavors of Rome in particular: The Bounty of Rome – New York Times. Its author, Mimi Sheraton, opens the article with the thoughts that first come to her mind when someone says “Rome”: Sant’Eustachio il caffè (but of course!). It’s worth pausing a moment to discuss arguably one of my favorite examples of espresso the world over. (That and I am envious of friends who are travelling to Rome next month.)
In a city where espresso takes on a level of social importance that Seattlites could only dream of, this café has been pulling some of Rome’s finest espresso shots since 1938. Although I’ve been travelling to Rome since 1995, I didn’t have my first espresso at this café until 2002 — and it was something of a life changer. Sant’Eustachio il caffè was a seminal influence on this site and on my espresso obsession in general.
Its co-owner, Roberto Ricci (the other co-owner is his brother, Raimondo), can be cold and aloof to stranieri (foreigners). His café is accustomed to well-heeled locals coming in for the customary Italian two-minute social/business exchange that I like to call the “Ti offro un caffè” (i.e., “Let me offer you a coffee”). Roberto’s many patrons include the nearby staff of the Italian Parliament and the Headquarters of the Carabinieiri (a national Italian police force that, despite their Armani uniforms, suffers a national pasttime of making them the butt of many a joke).
It took almost a week of ordering the Gran Caffè (espresso) at Bar Sant’Eustachio before Roberto warmed up to me (a tourista!). (It also took me a few attempts at ordering to finally get the espresso I wanted without the customary sugar.) While the baristas at Sant’Eustachio shield their handiwork behind their large espresso machines as if guarding an industry secret to their world-renowned crema, Roberto ultimately shared with me his philosophy on coffee production and espresso preparation — some of which can be found in a booklet titled Io sono caffè, or the truly modest, “I am coffee”.
After a week in Rome with daily visits to Roberto’s café (OK, several times a day), I left with a much greater knowledge about quality espresso … plus a nice gift of his chocolate-covered espresso beans. (Roberto does seem to possess a softer side that he will never confess to having.)
Of course, Sant’Eustachio il caffè is not the only place for fantastic espresso in town. One legendary nearby example being Tazza d’Oro, which has its own loyal followers who frequently balk at the parliamentary prices Sant’Eustachio charges. One of these days I hope to explore more of Rome’s seven hills and beyond for the great espresso in town — though the challenge will be forgoing the temptation of something as great as Sant’Eustachio or Tazza d’Oro.
However, friends on the outskirts of Rome — beyond the walls of the Centro Storico — tell me that Lavazza Blue is all the rage these days at “yuppie” cafés everywhere. Apparently even Italians can’t escape the marketing hype of large chains.
Somehow the editors of today’s USA TODAY let this article slip by without a pie chart: USATODAY.com – Taste test: The little joes take on Starbucks. Somebody is getting a pink slip.
But in this article, USA TODAY food and wine critic Jerry Shriver takes a very CoffeeRatings.com-like approach to reviewing the “premium” drip coffee at some of the major chains. Over a period of 10 days, he visited Manhattan outlets of McDonald’s, 7-Eleven, Burger King, Dunkin’ Donuts and Starbucks to review their coffee.
His findings? He noted that all the coffee he tasted was pretty good — with noticeable improvements in bean quality and flavor at these less “elitist” coffee shops. However, he felt consistency remains a problem for some of them.
Compare my ratings for various area Starbucks and you’ll see just how much a coffee chain can provide consistent branding far more readily than it can provide consistently good coffee.
Today’s Los Angeles Times reports on the current state of the elite Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee bean in light of Hurricane Ivan damage and the insurgence of counterfeiters: Jamaica’s Coffee Makers Perk Up, Fighting Off Knockoffs and a Storm – Los Angeles Times.
Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee carries a lot of name brand recognition — though in part just because of its high market price. It is a great “bright” island-style coffee. Though, in this writer’s opinion, it is ridiculously overpriced. But what is interesting to read is their problem of brand protectionism, as it suggests the need to define it as a geographic indication in World Trade Organization speak. (Think “Champagne”, “Tequila”, or “Roquefort”.)
Taking a page from wine marketing, will consumers pay a premium for the certified terroir of a specific coffee’s production? Several years ago I didn’t think twice about shelling out $9 for the priviledge of a French press pot of Jamaican Blue Mountain at a Santa Barbara restaurant (Sage & Onion, to be precise). So why not?
Today’s Charlotte Observer compared the merits of four major coffee shop chains in town: Charlotte Observer | 03/26/2006 | Coffee Shop Perks. Included in the comparison were Minneapolis, MN-based Caribou Coffee, local coffee roaster Dilworth Coffeehouse, recent Starbucks acquisition and newcomer to the area Seattle’s Best Coffee, and Starbucks Coffee itself.
The article reveals what this writer considers the classic shortcomings of café critiques: it’s all about the atmosphere, the muffins, and the retail opportunities — and not nearly enough about the coffee. Of what passes for coffee reviews, they pretty much say that they all taste great — even if what they review could be better categorized as coffee milkshakes. But that’s undoubtedly what the locals primarily order and expect from their espresso bars.
Errantly called ‘Tasili Coffee’ in most phone books and directories, this is a business lunch spot tucked away in the Hills Plaza brick office park, within a courtyard in the shadow of the Bay Bridge featuring a statue of the old Hills Bros. Coffee trademark: the turbaned Arab drinking coffee. Yes, this location was once the world’s home to Hills Bros. coffee — who introduced vacuum packed coffee in tins in 1900 … and a vacuum packing plant along the SF waterfront in 1926. (A landmark for Folgers Coffee exists right around the corner at Spear and Howard Sts.)
This café serves sandwiches, lavash, salads, and fine espresso. There isn’t much in the way of seating, however, between one indoor table and a few small ones outdoors in the plaza.
The owner, Laid Chellihi, pays careful attention to espresso preparation. His skills, and his café, are generally two undiscovered secrets in SF’s short list of good espresso. Back in 2003, he used a two-group La Pavoni machine that he has since replaced with a two-group La Spaziale. No matter, he manages to produce some of the most consistently good (albeit not top tier) espresso in the city. Talk about man over machine…
Laid pulls an espresso with a full, thick, and somewhat tall layer of medium-to-dark brown crema, and it has one of the sweetest aromas of any espresso I’ve had in SF. Served warm-to-hot with some faint grounds at the bottom of the cup. It has a relatively dense and bold flavor — a combination of tobacco and an herbal pungency, but with definite tastes of smoke, balsamic, and nutmeg. If it’s missing anything, it’s a touch of brightness on the high end of the flavor spectrum.
The pour is a little large — serving it to the rim in a tall and narrow IPA demitasse, built like a shotglass but with a Caffè Umbria logo representing the beans he uses. He sometimes serves it in larger Caffè Umbria cappuccino cups (a pet peeve of some), but the crema still manages to persist in its wide mouth.