Espresso News and Reviews - TheShot.coffeeratings.com

Today the SF Chronicle posted an impressively long article on the state of quality coffee roasting in the Bay Area: ROAST WITH THE MOST / A new generation of Bay Area coffee roasters pushes the perfect cup to the next level. It’s a remarkable piece, given its breadth. It lightly touches on everything from the roasting process, roasting trends, more meticulate coffee sourcing, and restaurants taking notice in better quality coffee. It also includes interviews with a good number of quality coffee luminaries in the area — and not just the usual, overexposed suspects.

On the topic of overexposure, it’s also good to see focus on advancements in the quality of the coffee — and not just an emphasis on machinery (and their escalating price tags), which has been something of a media trend of late. Equipment advances such as the Clover brewer would be amount to little more than a curiously expensive robotics grad student project if not for the improvements in coffee sourcing, roasting, and freshness.

Today’s geography lesson: Rome is not a U.S. city

As much as Coffeeratings.com was born five years ago out of frustration with the lack of quality standards and their awareness in the Bay Area specialty coffee scene, we actually take a bit of exception with some of the suggestions in the article — for example, “While the Bay Area is considered the birthplace of premium coffee, many say the quality of its coffee has lagged behind that of other U.S. cities in the past 10 or 15 years.”

In the past few years the Bay Area has arguably established itself as a national coffee leader, second only to perhaps Portland and Seattle. (And even at that, Seattle and Portland — like SF — are equally rife with median-quality coffeehouses that make poor espresso.) But go back a decade ago, and the coffee quality in the great majority of other U.S. cities was hurting far worse than SF.

Only hipster dufuses who use the word “’spro” need apply

The article also unfortunately feeds this terrible misconception going around that better coffee can only come from a “new generation” of coffee professionals — an attitude that if you haven’t been making coffee for less than three years, you are irrelevant to good quality coffee today. Call it specialty coffee’s take on Jerry Rubin’s “Don’t trust anyone over 30.” (It’s also one of many reasons why we ridicule the term “Third Wave.” Although the phrase’s originators coined it more to describe coffee consumption rather than coffee purveyors, today it is most commonly used to describe the latter.)

But the media will always focus on the new. And what’s old often becomes new again. (See: siphon coffee.) We read stories that suggest single origin coffees will bring about the (greatly exaggerated) death of the blend, or that lighter roasts will universally trump all those “horrible, traditional darker roasts.” But we see each of these as consumer fads that are merely highlighting the less explored dimensions of the overall coffee enjoyment experience. When the novelty of the new wears off, single origin or blend, light or dark roast, there will always be something to be enjoyed in the full variety of experiences coffee has to offer.

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Yesterday’s Independent (London) interviewed Giuseppe Lavazza, the “crown prince of the world’s biggest independent coffee company” — a.k.a. Lavazza: The family that grew rich on the other black stuff - Business Analysis & Features, Business - The Independent.

The coffee story from Lavazza is that, at least in Italy, espresso is not a commodity but rather a true pleasure. “It’s like running a clothes boutique, where you choose certain clothes to give a look, philosophy and style. We do something similar with coffee,” said Mr. Lavazza. High concept indeed.

Like Starbucks, Lavazza has focused on building their brand through ownership more than partnership. Except in Lavazza’s case, they have funded these efforts by reinvesting profits rather than turning to the public stock market.

As noted in the article, Lavazza most recently acquired the Barista and Fresh & Honest coffee chains in India. Within a couple of weeks, yours truly will be in India to check out the local coffee scene for himself. We will be sure to report back.

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Occasionally this Web site can be the source of a real life story, and the story of Caffè Mokabar is a good one. For a little background, after a couple weeks of espresso research in Piemonte, Italy last October, we were most duly impressed with Caffè Mokabar among all the coffee roasters we encountered. So when I wanted an authentic regional import to serve with a Piemontese meal my wife was planning for the private supper club she operates in the city, I scoured the Internet for Caffè Mokabar…but to no avail. Back then (unlike now) they didn’t even have a public Web site. So I settled on a U.S. distributor of Caffè Costadoro that I found.

Not long after, a comment appeared on this blog from Andrea Bertolino, Marketing Manager at Caffè Mokabar and grandson of company founder, Ermenegildo Bertolino. We later connected over e-mail and exchanged our mutual appreciations for great coffee — and immediately discovered that we were both are rabid fans of the Torino-based soccer club, Juventus F.C.. (In fact, Andrea descends a long family line of season-ticket-holding juventini.)

No coffee hooliganism allowed

Andrea then introduced me over e-mail to his childhood friend from the ‘hood, Roberto Cauda, who was swinging by SF as part of his travels to a Las Vegas technical conference and could bring me a stash of Caffè Mokabar — which is unavailable in the U.S. However, there was one catch. Roberto was born an avid Torino F.C. fan, a granata, the cross-city rivals who would love nothing more than to see Juventus burnt to the ground in flames if not for the fact that both clubs have shared Torino’s Stadio Olimpico (i.e., 2006 Olympic Stadium) for the past couple of seasons (and for many, many years prior to 1990).

For a little context, a lifelong friendship with an inherent football (soccer) rivalry like that is not far off from the Montagues and Capulets of nearby Shakespearean Verona fame. It’s ten times worse than the 49ers vs. Raiders fan rivalry. And just before our October travels to Piemonte, Juventus played Torino at the Stadio Olimpico for the first leg of the season’s Derby della Mole — which was spectacularly won by Juventus with a last-minute thriller of a goal by David Trezeguet that had me jumping on my sofa at home (but also ruing that I didn’t schedule my trip for a week earlier so I could attend the match).

Last month I met Roberto at SF’s Grand Hyatt, and Roberto unloaded a kilo and a half of precious Caffè Mokabar on me. And upon seeing me in my Juventus jacket (of course I had to wear it, as much as Andrea wished he could have witnessed that), Roberto made it clear under no uncertain terms that no word nor photographic evidence of himself fraternizing with a guy in a Juventus jacket could ever come back to Italy. (So hopefully there are no granata reading this. )

In all seriousness, Roberto was great company and I showed him around town for the evening. Being on neutral turf in America, perhaps it’s a bit like the truce between Israelis and Palestinians at Camp David. After all, I have good friends in Italy who are granata (”some of by best friends are…”). Though Roby shot me an e-mail upon returning to Malpensa afterwards: “P.S. you need a decent jacket :-)”.

Now about the coffee…

Given my home use of Caffè Mokabar’s best arabica-only blend, did it compare favorably with my experiences in Piemonte? One rule of thumb we’ve long held is that virtually any locally roasted coffee can be superior to even the best imports — given the freshness difference. Illy is a perfect example of quality that is outstanding in Europe but yet doesn’t translate as well in the U.S. — once shipped for many days and thousands of miles to SF as an oxidizing roast. This no matter how much inert gas or other freshness measures the roasters might take.

However, we were surprised with how full its flavor was — and how much it held up, including its volume of crema it produces (the canary in the mine for coffee freshness), over time. Given that it was an all-arabica blend (as is Illy), it produced a surprising amount of crema and managed to have a rather well-rounded flavor profile. (The typical Italian coffee blend for espresso leverages some quality robusta for these merits.)

Andrea was quick to acknowledge Illy as a great quality product for anyone to aspire to. And he was quick to mention how it was worthy of its considerable expense — just as Mark Prince mentioned in comments here how Ernesto Illy would have wanted it that way. But price even aside, I’d take this stuff over Illy beans in a heartbeat every time.

The coffee holds up to a finer grind well. I tightened up my Mazzer Mini on it without the grinds “gumming up” together in the portafilter. Part of that is certainly due to the more modest roast depth of the blend. And as far as the flavor of the blend goes, that’s completely subjective — many people simply cannot stand the flavor of Lavazza, for example, regardless of freshness. But there are a few blends that really “wow” me in flavor even after the freshness fades, and this is one of them.

Caffè Mokabar needs a distributor in the U.S. — so if we don’t pick that job up ourselves, you’ll at least have us as customers. Because unfortunately we’re all out! A big thanks to Roberto, Andrea, and the Bertolino family for underwriting this post with great coffee carried thousands of miles to reach us. I’ll be thinking of them when the next Derby della Mole takes place this Tuesday.

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Philz Coffee presents CoffeeRatings.com with something of a dilemma. Things were a little more straightforward when Philz offered espresso — the basic yardstick for all the ratings on this site. And the 18th St. Philz (since closed) rated among the worst 10% espresso purveyors in the entire city. It practically takes effort to be that bad.

Now owner Phil Jaber may have gotten into a business dispute that shut down this original 18th St. location, but he seemed to get wise in not even attempting to make espresso anymore. Well, legitimate espresso, that is. More on that technicality below. But given the recent attention paid to high-end brewed coffee in S.F., the loyalists of Philz Army whom e-mail us regularly to ask what we think of Philz, and the fact that this site is called CoffeeRatings.com and not EspressoRatings.com, Philz is a local force that cannot be ignored.

Phil and His Philniks

Philz is also a cult. Now we don’t mean to imply that they’re a branch of Scientology, and that S.F. coffee lovers should expect to find Tom Cruise lounging at one of their cafés in a black turtleneck, spouting off how Philz coffee drinkers are the only people capable of saving the world. But it’s a cult in the same vein you’d find for In-N-Out Burger, or even Krispy Kreme donuts a few years back.

For one, wild-eyed people hanging out within 100 feet of a Philz will approach you at random and tell you how you must stop in and have the best coffee you’ve ever had. And once you’re inside, you’ll typically be greeted by extremely friendly staff — so much so, it can be a bit scary and off-putting if you’re not used to total strangers coming on that thick. Phil Jaber himself makes no mistake that he’s out to make a coffee convert of you.

Once inside, at first you might appreciate the wide array of coffee varieties available for you to sample. But upon closer inspection, you’ll discover that all their coffee blends are laden with adjectives and yet lack any descriptive nouns. It’s as if Phil fancies himself as the Willie Wonka of coffee; his blend names have more in common with scented candles than with any recognizable geographic region, bean varietal, farming estate, or roasting style.

But that’s also perhaps some of his appeal to his loyalists: all those nouns represent a bothersome, scientifically-precise pretense about coffee — whereas adjectives are egalitarian, universally approachable, and can be appreciated as art unencumbered by facts. (I once asked Phil’s son and Philz co-owner, Jacob Jaber, if I could “buy a noun”. He had no clue what was in what blend.)

Philz Coffee, China Basin

The Philz location in China Basin (201 Berry St., at 4th St.; 415.975.3847; M-F 6am-9pm; Sa-Su 6am-7pm) opened in early 2007. It’s a large corner space filled with leather sofas and chairs with tall windows facing the new Muni T-line. Besides filter coffee, they also sell pastries, brown paper bags of roasted coffee, and even replicas of Phil’s fedora (that says a lot right there).

To get as close as I could to ordering an espresso here, I ordered #20 on their menu of blends: “Phil’z Handmade Espresso.” It is espresso in name only. Like all the other coffee here, the beans are pulled from plastic bins, ground to order in BUNN equipment, and brewed with hot water passed through a paper filter. Calling that “espresso” is akin to cracking an egg on a plate and calling it an “omelet”. (Never mind that many S.F. establishments serve espresso that poorly looks and tastes like filter coffee.)

Still…it’s some of the best filter coffee in S.F.

However, Philz does produce a very good cup of filter coffee. If I were rating it as an espresso, it would rate about a 4/10. But it’s not espresso. As filter coffee, I’d rate it an 8 — better than all but a few filter coffee options in the city. It had a smooth body and a bit of lively flavor with spices.

So what makes Philz coffee that good? You are paying a serious premium ($2.50 for a small cup of filter coffee). I’ve purchased beans from Philz before (their Heavenly Blend). But when I brewed them at home, I didn’t find them to be any better or worse than most anything you could buy from local roasters in the area. Thus what seems to set Philz apart is that they grind to order, they brew single servings on the spot, and the brewed coffee isn’t left sitting on a burner or even in a thermos.

Another big plus is that they offer a great variety of bean options. With filter coffee, you can get by with carrying a wider inventory of roasted beans. Espresso is far more sensitive to the freshness of the roast and thus inventory turnover is crucial.

Interestingly enough, all their roasts are blends. This in an era where we read about the “death of the coffee blend”. Yet some people go for single malt scotches, some like a blended Johnny Walker; there’s nothing wrong with either one of those choices if done well.

What Would L. Ron Hubbard Drink?

So while we’ve ruled out Philz as an espresso non-starter, and hence inappropriate for the CoffeeRatings.com reviews database, their filter coffee is quite good. But is “quite good” worthy of a cult following?

Once again, I don’t see Phil Jaber as any more notable than his Sunset roasting contemporaries: legendary, friendly neighborhood “loners” such as Alvin Azadkhanian of Alvin’s and Henry Kalebjian of House of Coffee. Phil does a bit more to ensure the freshness and variety of his filter coffee, but with Alvin and Henry you at least have the opportunity to learn something about coffee — and your own likes and dislikes. Yet even the most rabid Blue Bottle addicts we know don’t prowl the streets like zombies after fresh brains, uncontrollably frothing at the mouth about how Philz must infect you too. (Though many Blue Bottleheads do seem to have an unhealthy, singular fixation with their stuff — and are incapable of considering other great area roasters.)

Perhaps a number of Philz loyalists don’t like espresso (or, as is often the case, never had someone make them a proper one). When it comes to quality coffee, espresso drinks — and their profit margins — still dominate the retail coffee landscape. Even some of the best espresso bars in the city give short shrift to their filter coffee. (And all those espresso drinks/milkshakes have names that are just too damn prissy.)

Or perhaps it’s a revelation coffee — the analogue to the revelation espresso we often talk about. Through Philz, many customers first realize what flavor and freshness can do when your coffee isn’t left burning on a BUNN warmer for hours after being made with stale, pre-ground coffee. Date abusive boyfriends or girlfriends all your life, and you too might be ready to marry the first person who doesn’t take a swing at you on the first date.

And there is a reactionary element, where Philz appeals as a sort of anti-Starbucks or anti-Tully’s: local, with a local personality, and not mass produced. But perhaps most of all, it comes down to Phil Jaber himself: a uniquely qualified coffee showman and huckster. A cult of personality.

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News has been slow to hit the States, but the New York Times finally ran a story this morning on Dr. Ernesto Illy, chairman of Illycaffè and one of the world’s most notable espresso enthusiasts, who died Sunday night at the age of 82: Ernesto Illy, Chairman of Coffee Company, Is Dead at 82 - New York Times

I don’t know what it is about reporters at the Times, but they can’t seem to hold on to any of the bright ones. Just as their story last month on the new Blue Bottle Cafe could only focus on the price tag of their siphon bar (“At Last, a $20,000 Cup of Coffee”), today’s obituary opened by only being able to describe Illy coffee as “expensive”:

Ernesto Illy, who as chairman of Illycaffè, maker of an expensive brand of coffee, was renowned as a scientific perfectionist of coffee and especially as an evangelist of espresso, died Sunday in Trieste, Italy. He was 82.

If there isn’t a rampant shortage of descriptive adjectives among New York Times reporters lately, one wonders if their obsessive focus on the cost of coffee reflects a lot of reporter resentment over pay scales at the Times these days.

Meanwhile, the Illy Web site has been paying a nice tribute to the grand doctor: Illy - Homepage.

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Today Blue Bottle Coffee Co. opened up their long-anticipated Mint Plaza café — their first true space (besides kiosks and outdoor carts at the Ferry Building and in the East Bay) to showcase James Freeman’s commitment to freshness.

The café is located at a bend in Jesse St. in the Mint Plaza alleyway — in the corner of the old San Francisco Provident Loan Association building (SF’s largest jewelry-only pawn shop, if that gives you an indication of the neighborhood’s dicey past). It’s a bright space with tall ceilings and tall windows that look out on Jesse and Mint Sts. Along the windows is a series of stools with counter seating. Inside there is limited seating at the siphon bar (more on that below) and one long, high table surrounded by stools.

Of course the emphasis is coffee in all its various forms. But there’s also a worthy dessert menu (Caitlin A. Williams is their pastry chef).

For their “routine” espresso blends ($2), they use a three-group La Marzocco GB/5. As you would expect from Blue Bottle, the barista concentrates on timing a slow and deliberate shot — producing an espresso with a richly textured, medium brown patterned crema. It has a beautiful color in the light of the space, a potent aroma, but a thinner body than you might expect for something of this quality. Still, it has a classically robust Blue Bottle espresso flavor of roasted tobacco with an edge of a sweeter honey. Served in a classic brown Nuova Point cup with a glass of water on the side.

Single Origin Espresso

Of course, as a showcase for Blue Bottle Coffee, this is just the beginning of the coffee experience here. James has established a weekly rotation of single origin espresso shots, served from a dedicated old copper, manual, two-group La San Marco machine. Today’s special single origin roast was a Brazilian Camocim Bourbon. Producing one of the very best, if not the best, blended espresso in town, Blue Bottle’s single origin Camocim Bourbon will knock your socks off and comes highly recommended at $3. (James apparently knows me too well, as he personally served me up one before I even had the chance to ask!)

It has an exquisite aroma. The crema is a rich, mottled, and frothy medium brown — a touch thinner in size, as you might expect from a single origin espresso, but it has texture for miles. It has a robust flavor — there aren’t any elements noticeably missing, which is common to single origin espressos — and tastes of chocolate and some tobacco smokiness. Served in a white ACF cup — it is an outstanding recommendation over the “standard” blend.

Siphon Bar

For this café’s opening day, the siphon bar earned Blue Bottle a front-page story on the “Dining In” section of the day’s New York Times. And the place buzzed with the feel of a grand opening. James was beaming over his latest pride and joy, cameras were about still taking photographs of the place and its coffee, and many of the local coffeescenti came by to welcome the place (including Eileen Hassi of Ritual Coffee Roasters while I was there).

So what is this “siphon bar”? For one, it’s not necessarily anything radically new or different. It is essentially vacuum pot coffee made with a special system imported from Japan, except it uses halogen lamps as a heat source and cotton cloth filters that James told me should last a whole year. (Cafe Bello, for example, has offered vacuum pot brewed coffee for the past four years — even though it’s no longer listed on their main café menu.) The New York Times may have gone ga-ga over their fixation with its price tag — which they quoted as $20,000 for the setup — but James dismissed some of that figure on many of the peripheral parts they purchased, training, etc.

However, the siphon bar presents a unique way to experience some of Blue Bottle’s most exquisite coffees. They offered three different bean options. I had their Idido Misty Valley Ethiopian ($10) — which comes accompanied with chocolate sea salt caramels. The pairing may sound a bit pretentious (I’m leery whenever coffee people try to shoehorn familiar wine tasting rituals on themselves), but it works quite well — enhancing both the flavors of the delicate, clean coffee and the richer chocolate and caramel. In any case, the café could barely keep up with the novelty demand for their siphon bar coffee.

James Freeman may have made his start in the East Bay, but as a resident north of the Panhandle, he has made this location a showpiece and a true coffee destination for the city. Some Blue Bottle loyalists might piss and moan because “Blue Bottle was way cooler when you could drink espresso shots made by a tattooed slacker over a sewer cover in a back alley,” but we’ll take good coffee over misplaced adolescent attitude and poser angst any day.

Read the review of Blue Bottle Cafe at Mint Plaza. — with ratings based on their standard espresso blend.

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Today we came across a New York Times-syndicated article that alluded to the shortcomings of most home espresso machines: Life: Get off to a healthy start in the morning | juice, cup, milk, divide, servings - OCRegister.com. What attracted us to it was some “unconventional” wisdom about home espresso machines — something we rarely find in mainstream media.

Instead of the typical “check out these $150, landfill-bound, plastic pieces of junk that will save you money over your daily Starbucks habit,” someone actually published a consumerism-unfriendly viewpoint: that joining the consumer chum floating amidst the shark feeding frenzy that is today’s quorum of entry-level home machine manufacturers — many just trying to cash in on the “Starbucks phenomenon” — might not be a good thing for every consumer.

Blood in the water with Martha

Oddly enough, we then quickly discovered that the article was attributed to none other than Martha Stewart. We say “attributed” because although the article rang with the bizarre style of Martha’s “voice,” we know that it is her handlers and underlings who do all her writing. Even down to the regular utterances of the word “perfect” on her TV programs, thus creating one of the more unusual drinking games.

But props to Martha’s underlings for questioning the wisdom of many a misguided home appliance purchase. In the article, “she” mentions, “I tried all sorts of machines – all-in-ones, stove-top espresso makers, frothers, drippers – but I could not duplicate the perfect cappuccinos or wholesome lattes I had imbibed.” (Now did everyone drink at the word “perfect”?)

So she apparently turned to a barista at New York City’s Via Quadronno for a segment on her TV series to demonstrate how to make a “perfect” cappuccino. The wisdom from that episode led Martha to purchase a professional-grade, dual-group La San Marco machine — which has since made regular appearances in her TV kitchen. Martha also deferred to Via Quadronno’s choice of Antica Tostatura Triestina coffee beans.

When New York espresso didn’t get much better than Via Quadronno

It’s not often we find common ground with Martha Stewart. Too often, the celebrity food types fawn over their own ignorance about coffee and treat it as if it were no more involved than purchasing the right batch of cilantro. Martha erred in opting for an imported roaster over a much fresher domestic supplier, and she may have turned to a relatively unremarkable espresso purveyor for advice on quality. However, she’s shown far more research and competency in her approach towards espresso than we’ve seen from most other heralded foodiscenti.

Of course, at the time Martha approached their barista, Via Quadronno was regarded as one of New York City’s best purveyors of quality cappuccino. Before the likes of Ninth Street Espresso and Joe the Art of Coffee reached critical public awareness, places like Via Quadronno were it for this (encouragingly improving) espresso backwater of a metropolis.

This post is also another excuse to highlight some non-San Francisco espresso reviews that we’ve been able to recently surface in our database: read the review of Via Quadronno in New York City, last updated in 2005.

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Our Espresso in Torino and Piemonte series continues with a visit to a Piemonte-based chain of roaster/cafés, called Casa del Caffè Vergnano. Caffè Vergnano has opened 16 roaster/cafés throughout Europe, located in cities as varied as Torino, Milan, Nice, Munich, Düsseldorf, London, one we stopped at in Asti (rated 2 chicchi and 2 tazzine in the 2008 Bar d’Italia del Gambero Rosso ), and one in Alba we’ll review here.

Past the bags of unroasted green beans in front with a large Petroncini roaster, you follow an unusual custom for this area but one that’s common for most of Italy: paying first at the separate register (la cassa). At the rear of the café they have extensive, rather upscale seating and food service. Just before it is an espresso bar with dueling two-group Elektra machines.

This place is particularly popular with Alba’s weekend tourists. They serve espresso with a decent, coagulated layer of medium brown crema — albeit somewhat thin in size. The thin body in the cup, however, doesn’t hold up as well. It also has a flavor of medium spices. It’s clearly a good cup — but this kind of local, on-site roasting raises your expectations for freshness, the fullness of the crema and flavor, etc. But instead, it serves as proof that local roasting isn’t apparently everything, and Italian consumers seem to believe that. Offered at a not unreasonable €0.90.

Read the review of Casa del Caffè Vergnano.

UPDATE: Dec. 28, 2007
A Milan-based location of Caffè Vergnano was also mentioned (and misspelled as “Caffe Vergnanao”) in the Dec ‘07-Jan ‘08 issue of Barista Magazine — in Anastasia Chovan’s (aka, “the Clover girl”) article on this year’s Host Milan show. The author also noted how the high-end stuff in the States often beats the best in Italy, but she doesn’t seem aware that Milan has some of the worst espresso in all Italy.

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What a difference four years makes. One scalability challenge with an effort as large as CoffeeRatings.com is the attempt to cover the sheer number of places serving espresso in San Francisco while maintaining a common yardstick of consistency (to produce useful comparative reviews). But another challenge is keeping up with the changes; cafés open and close all the time. And some cafés, like Café Abir, can progress in quality from quite poor to quite good while you weren’t looking.

This is a popular independent café with a fiercely loyal, local following. Because of its the vocal loyalists, this café has long been held in high regard — even when there were many, less vocal detractors who didn’t find anything special here (this site included).

For years we attributed much of its loyal following to its atmosphere and status as a lone place of suitable refuge in an otherwise — shall we say — “delicate” neighborhood. (Hanging out at Church’s Chicken just doesn’t cut it, unless you want to pass the time waiting to be a witness at a crime scene.) Because any raving certainly couldn’t be over their sub-standard espresso — which ranked in CoffeeRatings.com’s bottom 30th percentile. And yet Café Abir won the 2003 SF Bay Guardian readers’ award for Best Independent Coffeehouse.

But a lot has changed over the past four years — particularly with its Summer 2007 remodel. And almost all its changes have been for the better. They still retain a sort of Middle East theme out of the silent movie era. But the adjoining grocer and newsstand is long gone — now being replaced with a sake and wine shop. There’s long been a bar in the back for happy hour, and today they seem to have doubled down on their sake theme. Inside, they’ve polished the premises: red upholstered bench seating, nicer tables and chairs, more light. Even the sidewalk seating along Fulton St. looks a little more inviting.

The staff and some patrons here once seemed a bit “damaged,” as can be the norm in this neighborhood. But that seems to have improved along with the other changes. Though on my visit this week, no fewer than two different people came right up to me on the sidewalk, each talking to me as if they were continuing a conversation they started with my evil twin who passed through just minutes ago (”…and another thing!”). Some things haven’t changed in the Western Addition.

(For the record, I used to live along Golden Gate Ave. just a couple of blocks from here.)

But most surprisingly, the coffee quality has noticeably improved here. They still roast their own beans in a backroom. Four years ago their baristas had no idea where their beans came from; today they all seem to know the story.

They now serve espresso with a more solid, richer layer of medium brown crema (it used to be very thin and pale). The weak and watery body is now much more robust — and served in a large shotglass/Gibraltar. It still has a medicinal flavor, but with a stronger tobacco smokiness that almost borders on ashiness — it will seem bitter to many, and it remains my biggest complaint about their coffee service. However, they’ve clearly put a lot more effort into their coffee. They are one of the most improved examples in the city over the past few years.

Read the updated review of Café Abir.

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Continuing our Espresso in Torino and Piemonte series, we turn to a local roaster who does a whole lot more than the typical torrefazione/caffè in Italy.

This one is located in the bustling small town of Asti — as in SF’s Palio d’Asti, which itself is named after the famous bareback horse race in the town. (Interestingly enough, residents of the nearby rival town of Alba celebrate their own Palio degli Asini, a donkey race that mocks their Asti neighbors.) Asti is also home to the sparkling wine, Asti Spumante — which, while it can be pretty good, no local can ever be caught drinking.

Caffè Ponchione is a famed area local roaster (or torrefazione) and champion of Slow Food causes. This location is also a working café, selling wine, sweets, and Slow-Food-friendly consumables.

As a café, it is a bit more advanced than the rest in the area (or most any café in San Francisco, for that matter). For one, they offer up to seven different selections of coffee beans for your espresso — from their standard blend at €0.80, a decaffeinated option (no, really), several single estate coffees for €1.50, and Jamaican Blue Mountain at €2. Now why you would want to use JBM beans in an espresso is a separate question, but otherwise there are no indicators that these guys aren’t at the top of their game.

Using two-group and three-group La Cimbali MTR Dosatrons, they pull shots with a mottled medium brown, tiger-striped crema — which can run lighter at times (of course, we had to sample several shots here). It’s a place for area coffee lovers, however, and the flavor tends to run in the smoky, almost tobacco-like range.

Read the review of Caffè Ponchione.

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