As a native Italian living abroad, I have observed cultural differences for a while. Ever since I moved to this intrepid and optimistic land, I have learned something new every day, both about America and about myself. And as time goes by, I have not stopped marveling upon the circumstances of being immersed in a culture that is not my native one. In the process, I discovered that I have retained this desire to remain curious and interested in anything new and different. This long journey has been my personal fountain of youth. The inner vitality of newness is one of the strongest forces that make people dream and leads them to foreign shores. Foreign traditions, which appear odd at first, reveal after closer observation distinguished traits of a different philosophy and approach to life. Diversity, so at risk nowadays, both in our biosphere and in the ethnic and political arenas, is fundamental element of survival of our civilization. Diversity should be able to teach us respect for other people’s perspectives, choices and inclinations.
I propose today that we visit the customs of our countries with the regard and the sense of awe children have when they are brought before something they have never seen before. Curiosity may save us from the isolation of our cultural cocoons – those private, inner worlds where we all retreat when things look way unfamiliar. Furthermore, I propose that you take some of the bold affirmations in this article with sense of humor. Laughter is always at shortage, and I find that coffee consumption provides a unique opportunity to catch each other in the act. Whether you are a native of this country or an imported talent, you might have gathered by now that things in Italy are done a little differently. Conversely, you must expect that things in the U.S. may appear equally distinct to the eyes of a foreign observer. Italians have contributed to a number of habits of modern life, from slow food to high fashion, and they are quite adamant about such habits. You can hear them scream: “hey, there, cappuccino is not a dinner item!” Americans lead the movie industry and are quite gracious about how foreign individuals absorb their lifestyle. You may do anything you please with American coffee. You may not with Italian coffee. Italian things come with instructions (in case you wonder, American things come with manuals). At any rate, I am convinced that at the bottom of all differences and attitudes there is a lack of knowledge and a number of presumptions, often the hallway to sticky prejudices. I believe that one of the duties of every cultural organization, while preserving distinctions and cultural identity is to dissipate conjectures and resolve differences by promoting understanding. It is evident to well traveled American and cosmopolitan citizens alike that significant dissimilarities exist in the underpinning philosophies of our countries (in this case, Italy and the U.S.). By the same token, it is evident that some differences are as extensive and diametrical as restraint is to luxury –the allusion to coffee is obvious, as we will see in a moment. America, by definition entrepreneurial, stands on this side of the Atlantic Ocean, unrestrained by traditions or history, with its uncanny manipulations, childlike joy and flowing enthusiasm. Italy, in its chaos and constant political instability, remains attached to certain immutable customs, many of which are deceptively simple, and many of which are rather rigid. Coffee is one of them!
Ironically, the restraint – manifestly represented both by the physicality and the ritual of an espresso – is considered a sign of refinement in Italy. Coffee, a true parenthesis, away from everything, work, sometime home, and all life’s troubles, is synonymous with indulgence and opulence. Let’s not forget that coffee, when it was first introduced in Europe, was luxury that only rich families could afford. But coffee in itself is as basic and essential as anything. It is also a serious matter. Instead, Americans at the time of coffee seem to be all but austere. Although there are plenty of examples of true simplicity in the tradition of coffee consumption in the U.S., the character of a modern coffee house is rather mercantile, with sales averaging six dollars per customer and a variety of denominations and available flavors that beats Harrry Potter’s Jelly Beans. Now, as an ex-historian, I can easily spot how cocoa, cinnamon and vanilla might have found their way into coffee. Mixing flavors is an ancient weakness of clear courtesan origin, developed (for boredom, acute depression or both) during the decadence of many great European empires, particularly French and Austrian – Italians, in their snobbery, find such custom barbarian. But, rest assured, “perversions” like raspberry flavored coffee have little to do with Europe. Brits are the usual suspects at the time of mixing exotic flavors in, after all, they are the one who first put sliced pineapples over meat. But insofar as in the U.S. a new aroma or denomination (i.e. frappuccino) may make the fortune of its unbridled creator, I dare pronouncing that flavored coffee is in the U.S. as indigenous a tradition as jazz and blues. Italians will never stop arguing over the point of certain oddities. But our interest today is the reason behind habits, not the success of a new formula, which only indicates how people embrace change. And so, while in the U.S. this incessant desire to challenge the status quo –plain coffee– and formulate something new, whether foolish or clever, may never end puzzling and fascinating a foreign observer who witnesses a brewing line with twelve boosted varieties, in the old world, traditions lead to refinement. Refinement is in turn a process which excludes wild experimentation, as it entails drawing near the essence of things. Italian immigrants, no matter how engrossed by their material pursuits in the U.S., have become adept to noticing such differences. Criticizing oddities reminds Italians of their identity, although it is unappreciative of what this land offers. Americans are naturally curious, less uptight, not to mention well adept to fashions, and therefore more readily available to embrace change. They seem to look at a new mint flavor (some pun intended) with curiosity. I guess that one may argue that things in the U.S. are deceptively complex, or that Italians and Americans are “creative” or “exuberant” in different areas, but one aspect remains clear: things done alla maniera italiana are simple only in disguise. Espresso is a concentrate of experience, not only the conversion of carefully selected beans. This is why for an Italian fellow, finding the perfect espresso is nearly impossible. The apparent reason is that things don’t travel well, also, let’s be frank, that first generation Italians are a bunch of impossible perfectionists. Americans are more prone to forgive an imperfect delivery, as long as they are promptly handed what they are looking for. Americans, and this is profoundly true, expect to reach results rather quickly. You cannot convince them, no matter how long you argue, that it may take decades to develop dexterity with a coffee machine. But the naked truth is that even with the same perfect ingredients or equipment two operators will produce two different cups of coffee, one mediocre, the other decent. This is what is beautiful and at the same time daunting about old traditions. They celebrate the mystery of creation. But again, this is already way too much drama for an U.S. native. I can see some of you readers, rolling your eyes. I’ll stop.
Luckily, all good things have a method behind, and the art of making coffee starts from the beans. The roasting process and the miscele (blends) are an art and a science at the same time, and require true expertise, not to mention the olfactory sense of a fine wine maker. Coffee preparation alone is already an art. But when you touch the miscele, in other words, the recipes, things get complicated rather quickly, with lots of people swearing to be holding the Holy Graal, i.e. “the best formula or blend ever devised.” Even Italians are divided between purists, whom swear that pure Arabica beans (a variety original of Ethiopia and Yemen) make the perfect espresso blend, and blenders, whom would bet on their mother’s life on the importance of mixing sweet varieties in like Robusta and Central American varieties to produce what is commonly known as miscela da bar. It is often a secret formula, which can mean the life or death of an enterprise, but the underpinning debate is based on a questionable ground without right or wrong, especially here, in the land of experimentation where, if you can sell something, it really does not matter how eccentric it is. Regardless, I will resist the temptation to criticize invention, or else I would have to unveil the details of my addiction to Coca-Cola. But for your own record, good coffee and bad coffee are as different as a silk handkerchief from coarse sand paper… if you get my point. Hence, among other reflections, my intent today is to provide some orientation among the “terms” developed by Italians and Americans to indicate different types of coffee preparation, and hopefully shed some light about the cultural differences that make ever so new and interesting to visit a land or a habit that we want to make home, even if for a few minutes a day.
There are many Italian ways to prepare coffee, from “caffe’ alla napoletana (the dripping method with a special caffettiera which survives only in Napoli), to the highly controversial cappuccino, which holds the longest running tradition, but which is prepared in different regions of Italy in slightly different ways, and therefore is hardly quite right for everybody. Caffè alla greca, caffè alla turca, alla francese, are adoptive methods, made in different ways, equally interesting, equally deep-seated with ancient neighboring national traditions. But in spite of all influences, Italian-style coffee remains quite distinct, not to mention, one of the most renown worldwide. Coffee in Italy is one of those beautiful traditions, which seem to resist change. Old habits make people what they are. So, Italians have developed a cult for coffee that resembles a form of nationalism. You touch their coffee you are slandering their favorite soccer team –depending if the bar is the fan’s gathering spot, you are basically dead. Tip to get out of the mess: ask anyone to teach you the rules of soccer. You will make lots of friends and get coffee on the house.
Coffee in Italy is prepared with two basic methods, at home, with the famous caffettiera moka-express, and at the bar with the macchina da bar. Surrogates are unacceptable by a true Italian, there is no excuse. And, by the way, don’t let the industry fool you with mini-bar machines for your kitchen countertop. Because of the high pressures involved, there is nothing serious out there below $1,000, and a professional machine starts around $8,000. In other words, there is little substitute known for the real thing. The home version is known as straight caffè. In fact you can’t do much with it except, perhaps, a classic caffè-lattte or a zabaione (mixed with an egg and sugar). The higher density of the coffee which comes out of the macchina da bar, produces what is called a ristretto. This is a creamy density one can hardly obtain at home, and if so, only at the risk of a serious moka explosion. The ristretto and its opposite companion “il caffè lungo” are known as “espresso” simply because they are prepared in an instant, as opposed to at home, where you need ten minutes, plus plenty of time to reward yourself or the host with some compliments and the courtesy of a brief, informal conversation, known – per l’appunto – as “discorso da caffè” (casual conversation). On a cold morning, you can get a corretto (some fuel is added to get your engine crank). The ristretto is still held as a tough, macho experience (both by men and women), which reminds me that the macchiato is a variation, not a kind, devised to soften the impact of concentrated coffee with a lump of milk, for those (gentler beings) who can’t take the punch of the straight thing. At the bar, you can also get a cappuccino, named after the color of the homonymous monk’s robe, where milk is steamed quickly (not boiled to volcanic temperatures, like so many incautious “new kids on the block” do), then poured in a larger cup with a bit of froth, on top of which an espresso is artfully poured over (neither left at the bottom, nor stirred!).
A sprinkle of cocoa is considered a fancy Viennese vagary, not an Italian one. The lemon skin is mere blasphemy, hardly worth mentioning. The purist does not fancy distractions. Cocoa powder is nearly tolerated in Italy. Anything else is a deceptive attempt to mask the smell of bad coffee beans. I will spare you in this context with the history of the original cappuccino recipe, a version of which I was lucky enough once to hear in amazing detail from and actual monk. I will just tell you that the original recipe requires fresh, unpasteurized milk, which sounds a bit rustic, if outright Spartan, as it is achieved without machines and early in the morning, at five a.m., when the bottle of milk left in the cold of the night has produced a layer of fresh cream. Too difficult to achieve. Simplicity, nevertheless, remains the referent model that any cappuccino attempts to imitate, a perfect marriage between two apparently disparate ingredients (such as in the sublime matrimony of ricotta and spinach, mozzarella and tomatoes, oil and vinegar, butter and sage, wine and cheese, etc.). For a brief moment, it can be heaven on earth.
Preparing coffee at home is a ritual. The result is either very good or very bad, depending on a number of factors, including the size and age of the caffettiera –the older and the smaller, the better. Instead, coffee at the bar is a social event. You don’t go to the bar and expect quietness and meditation. You go to the bar to talk to people, also to escape the tyranny of your boss, or wife. If you are a skilled observer, at the bar, you can tell the personality of someone by their coffee order, and by the way they drink it. Introverted people pay a lot of attention to stirring. Purists and tough nuts drink it straight up, in one shot. Complex people get fancy orders, then sip it slowly, keeping it a personal experience. Self-conscious characters remain very aware of others, while self-assured ones go for it and always drop in a comment for the barman. In order to increase their concentration, the most intense and passionate characters, close their eyes while they take it down. If you get close enough, you may hear someone hum or moan out of pleasure. But these are not exactly “espresso” people. These people are “having coffee”, whereas “espresso” people, rare individuals found only in Milano, have actual responsibilities to attend, almost an oxymoron everywhere else with Italy. Italian bars are the perfect job hideaway. The cappuccino, for instance, carries the connotation of some kind of breakfast, first of all because you can’t get it down in a shot, like an espresso; secondly, because it is more nutritious; thirdly, because it is often subordinate to a side order of brioche, biscotti, cornetto or danese. Ordering a cappuccino is therefore an open declaration of further availability of time, an exposè of a true luxury bash in a busy day. If you ask for one, the bar tender may start a more meaningful conversation with you; customers will make room for your breakfast – in Italy, it is so important not to work, or at the least having time to squander, that people have a natural respect for those who sneak out of the office and take a few moments – which can develop to half an hour– for themselves. If you order cappuccino past ten o’clock, you are confessing that you just got up. In Italy this is a public declaration that you either are out of work, or don’t need to work. Don’t worry, your clothes will reveal to the other customers which one of the two you are. But, whether you make a living by personally moving things around, or by telling somebody else to do that, coffee is the time the Italians are a united nation and share their profound passion for doing nothing and for talking to perfect strangers about soccer, women or politics, whenever they get a chance to do so. But don’t be fooled by connoisseurs. Most Italians do not know how to make a good espresso, even if they swear they do. The proof: in traditional Italian families, only one person per household is authorized to prepare coffee. It does not get more serious than this, unless you are ever found by your mother or spouse sneaking out into the neighbor’s kitchen drinking their coffee. A hint that their coffee is better could mean disaster, even banishment from the family tree. And so, eighty percent of Italians don’t know how to make good coffee, or for that matter, an egg, but being expert tasters, they perfectly know when they encounter a bad one.
At the bar you can also get a caffè-latte, which is warmed up but not steamed and contains more milk than a cappuccino. But bars typically do not carry the right bowl, which goes with it –you are supposed to dip bread into it. Alternatively, you can get a latte macchiato which is such a graciously juvenile order, for it is supposed to remind you of the latte preparato dalla mamma when you reach the right age for coffee. But, trust a native Italian, a latte IS NOT coffee! At best, it is comfort food for self-pampering individuals –a sign of adolescence and immaturity, back in the ol’ days.
In the hot season, some people order a caffè freddo, which, by the way, is prepared and sweetened the day before while it is still hot because it must then “cure” in the fridge for a while. Il caffè freddo is, for some romantic, old fellows, a kind of a classy drinking style in itself, as refrigeration was not commercially available until the late forties. A newer version, which can be quickly prepared is the shakerato, which is a milder and more diluted version of the classic freddo but which inevitably resembles a drink you would consume when you are sitting. It looks international to me, beginning from the “impure” name, up to the evident feel of “annacquato” (watered down). So is the long adopted frappè (a coffee milkshake – oops, a “frappuccino”) which, after more than fifty years, might as well be considered Italian, even if it bears a French name and preparation method (air et crème partout!). Did I forget other vagaries? Perhaps the equally famous decaffeinato, which at the bar becomes a public confession of age, hypertension or heart problems. But, rest assured, no judgement is passed on the customer; instead, an understanding of his wish not to renounce this sacred, national ritual. A symbolic pat on the shoulder is silently passed to him by all the other customers. Once again, a communal sense of unity is achieved. One day, I witnessed a frail old man, he must have been at the least 95, making slowly his way to the counter, aided by his cane. He ordered in front of a dumbfounded group of younger customers, a doppio ristretto corretto, practically a bomb. Understandably, as soon as he left, all the young (and not so young) customers ordered the same coffee. The illusion to be purchasing a passport to long life knows no caffeine fear! An Italian is a Shakespearean dissection of life, a melodramatic theatre where you can learn more about a culture than in an encyclopedia.
Coffee in America is altogether a different animal. What is commonly known as American coffee, the kind obtained with the dripping method, is definitively a derivation of northern-European traditions, most likely German. In fact, no Mediterranean culture would have extracted coffee from the beans in this gentle and patient way. Don’t be fooled by its mild aspect, it is a caffeine grenade. So, watch out the third cup! Americans spend time with their coffee mug, carry it around the house, in their car, take it to the office, refill it, carrying it for half a day, like Linus with his blanket. You can’t do that with Italian coffee. The concept is that you leave the office to go to the bar, smoke a cigarette after that, meet some friends, take a breath of fresh air, get the newspaper… Americans LOVE their coffee and have perfected the percolating method, up to the point in which American coffee is a thing in and of itself, a unique product, which, like in Italy, can be excellent or mediocre. I could steer you toward a couple of places where American coffee is a matter taken quite seriously, or to perfectly informal ones where coffee is just coffee and you get decaf or the real thing, no fancy-schmancy stuff, dear! But insofar as Italian-style coffee is so in vogue, I will not visit the secrets of the American-style, because I have not been exposed to it long enough to be able to grasp all its nuances. All I can tell you is that, if you develop a palate for it, and you happen to be in the mood for it, you can’t really be satisfied with anything else. American coffee warms you up in the morning, fits in your hands like a gift from God, invites you to sit down and open the paper, keeps calling you from the kitchen, follows you to your office. American coffee is an extended experience that has little known comparisons. Mine, for instance, is an elaborate ritual. Believe it or not, I water down my cup of American coffee to a lukewarm, tea body. First of all, I fill the cup 3/4 of the way and leave room for some water. Often, coffees are overloaded, i.e. under-dripped, and drinking them straight makes me very thirsty. I then add a blend of milk and half-and-half –don’t ask me why, for I openly dislike messing with things. But, hey, this product leaves room for all kind of variations from nothing to flavored creamers, and here in the U.S. I am having the time of my life with coffee. My (shameless) double excuse: first of all I hate to burn my lips with the volcanic temperatures dispensed by American professional coffee machines and, secondly, I feel aggravated by plastic bottles of water, laying around as a memento of our dependence from civilization, populating our environment as if I we were all venturing into crossing a desert. I told you, it is shameless. Anyway, this ritual goes on for days at a time, until on Friday, I suddenly get a craving for that punch on your sensorial apparatus called “espresso.” American readers, don’t be alarmed, Sunday morning I am sitting at Café San Francisco reading the paper and sipping the national variety as if there were no tomorrow. Then, on Monday, back on track with my Einstein Brother’s routine. You see, in no way can I be called unpatriotic. Simplicity is a blessing and it stands on a different plan with “lack of sophistication”, which is the label that newly-arrived Europeans seem so prone to stick on some peculiar American habits and traditions.
Back to the fancy stuff, franchises charge up to four dollars for a tall cap. People pay it without a thought. On the opposite side, the basic one, you can get a good cup of American coffee for a dollar or less almost anywhere, beginning from any Waffle House which remains one of the most quintessential American breakfast experiences. Thus, drinking coffee Italian-style in the U.S. is an investment for alternative-dudes or nouveau-riches. And while Espresso has stolen the ruling throne of Italian stereotypes to pizza, which used to be the queen of exports, cappuccino has become as pervasive as an after-dinner classic. But the notorious passion that the fancy Americans consumers have for affordable import products cannot account alone for the amazing proliferation of Italian coffee in the U.S. My instinct tells me that Americans are trying to emulate the lifestyle that comes with drinking cappuccino or espresso instead of regular coffee. The complexity hidden behind the apparent simplicity of an espresso or a cappuccino does not concern them. The feeling is far more important. This effort to appropriate a piece of another culture is to any Italian a flattering compliment, though the result is often the inevitable creation of hybrids which, much like the fettuccine Alfredo or the ubiquitous French fries are an American invention and have little to do with the model which inspired them. But espresso, cappuccino and latte, are in the U.S. a relatively new phenomenon. Therefore new definitions are coined every day. One reason Americans are inclined to develop so many terms of engagement and alternatives for their clientele is because, they don’t seem to be able to resist the temptation to “embellish” things, to please the consumer and give him options, a basic version for the poor, then one with all the bells and whistles for their well-off clientele, plus a wide selection in between. Remember, in Italy the customer is always wrong! But in a land (U.S.) that advocates no class divisions within, citizens may find in coffee an affordable, temporary means of class distinction. < It is a peaceful revolution in which the customer’s fancy is always right. Regardless, Americans love to tamper with traditions, to play and experiment with things, unrestrained by past methodologies and traditional experience. I envy them for their dynamism. Sum such freedom to the beliefs that “more is better” and that “bigger is better” and you obtain American-Italian coffee, with its double espresso, grande latte, tall cappuccino, and other opulent representations. Feeling rich is part of the experience and if one can do that for a few bucks, why not? America is so innocent in its historical obliviousness and slight methodological anarchy that it is hard not to smile at its carefree youthfulness. The belief that by altering a formula or recipe, or by adding this or that new ingredient or flavor, things will be improved is at the same time an impertinent slap in the face of History and a swift emancipation from the constraints that have nearly paralyze the Old Continent, where you cannot flip a stone without someone yelling at you. Americans are highly criticized by Europeans for this audacious practice, but inevitably, by ignoring traditions they stumble into something new, like they did in the late sixties when, suddenly, they realized that the New York-style pizza was a kind per se and that it could be marketed to the rest of the world. It worked, and at times it is better than the original. Macaroni and cheese, another national phenomenon of an Italian product which is completely unknown in Italy, are so popular among college students that they account for an impressive portion of their food intake. For those of you who have not attended college in the U.S., cafeteria-coffee – a horrendous concoction – is a big part of a college student’s diet too, of course after beer, fries and ketchup. Having “evolved” from the horrible poisons served on campus, these “sophisticated” generations are now buying Italian coffee at Starbucks. It is a typical ex-professor’s unproved revenge-theory, a wild generalization, but it attempts explaining why the American versions of Italian coffee are so popular among the ex-junk-food-addicted, taste-indiscriminate generations. Occasionally, I try them, but as a fancy dessert, particularly as an ice-cream-crave pacifier, not as coffee.< The separation between true Italian and its various interpretations does not seem to question the American conscience. Why should it do that? Americans are perfectly happy to consume the drink of their choice and get fancy on their coffee breaks. After all, this is America and these products are designed for fun, not for seriousness and austerity. There is an irresistible sense of optimism behind every new marketing operation, the belief that a bright and colorful future lies ahead. No one can resist its attraction. At a philosophical level, the problem is that simple traditions like coffee have been perfected for centuries and that there is truly no room for further improvement, only for striving to achieve perfection – of course, for those who are up to the challenge. Messing with a basic thing like coffee is like reinventing the wheel and making it octagonal to see if it rides better. I still wonder of the glorious times of Henry Ford’s when it was said that “an American can have a Ford in any color so long as it’s black” – no dark-roast pun intended. In other words, I wonder of a return to simplicity, in everything, from coffee to relationships. I know, Italians are not after all so playful, they are way too serious on certain matters. Excellence achieved by practice and repetition lays at the origin of such Italian seriousness and austerity on the subject. The simpler, the better. For your information, in Italy, a bar assistant cannot become a barista before ten years of practice. He is not allowed to touch “la macchina” before he turns twenty one, plus he is truly not believable until he is in his thirties. It takes practice, and even practice does not guarantee good results. In comparison, the colorfulness of America is an open invitation to have fun and take it easy. But seeing radically modified methods and recipes passed as Italian, is always a disconcerting experience for an Italian native. A mix of misrepresentation and betrayed identity is his natural reaction before simulations. It is a rather personal matter, which abroad looses its meaning and even culturally speaking is nearly irrelevant. Antithetically, seeing an American testing his first real espresso in Italy (not to mention, trying oddities like sea urchins, or grilled entrails) is like watching someone taking his first dive in the deep sea: hold your breath and dive right in. I have seen the emotion with my own eyes. But coffee in the U.S. is so ubiquitous nowadays that finding a place where good espresso is made, in the midst of a franchise galore that has taken over every intersection, becomes as an interesting and fortuitous pursuit as finding the perfect companion in a city of millions –you’ll be surprised. A long, long search. Now some good news. There is a good chance that a person like you is making the best Italian coffee, right at home. After all, the simpler the preparation, the closer is the result to the original. With Illy and Lavazza leading the beans pack, so to speak, Italian miscele are available everywhere, from Whole Foods to the various Famer’s Markets. Don’t’ forget the internet! Concerning the various commercial venues, I will not debate who makes the best Italian coffee in this city – but I can tell you who makes the worst! Let’s kill the giants first: in spite of their notoriety and pledge to quality, Starbucks and Caribou Cafè, grossly over-roast their beans, to the point that they burn them. When over-roasted, coffee beans taste like charcoal and are good for nothing. The resulting drink is a highly acidic and tannic coffee which may not offend your palate but will perforate your stomach. This happens infallibly at the houses I mentioned, and if you cannot smell it, I suggest that you don’t read any further and avoid to ruin your state of bliss. Overloading coffee is another bad habit of these houses, which double the quantity of coffee necessary to produce a regular cup in the suicidal attempt to compete with other coffee houses. Most of these overdone and overdosed blends are known as dark roasts, but they are a deceptive blunder. True dark roasts are not drinkable as light roasts. And rarely can light roasts be darkened without compromising their quality. Aside from being utterly poisonous, especially when doubled up to make up for the lack of essential oils (lost in a poor roasting process), these coffees are also caffeine bombs. The paradoxical reason? To offer you more for your bucks. Such tragic and hazardous results are incidentally obtained, in the attempt to achieve a higher density of flavor (which, experts know, is provided not by coffee concentration, but by the essential oils which unfortunately evaporate and quickly oxidize by over roasting or, worse, are turned into harmful chemicals). But as I said before, the popularity of certain brands does not have anything to do with quality but, perhaps, with packaging. Please, don’t get me started! Franchise venues may make our sidewalks friendlier, but they do not qualify as sophisticated coffee-makers, some do not even qualify as apprentices, no matter what your argument or passion might be. My take? For a real espresso or cappuccino, always go to an Italian restaurant or cafè. Any one of them, even a non-authentic one, as long as they have good coffee and an Italian machine, would serve you a better cup of coffee than the mighty Starbucks. Modern bar machines are automated in order to minimize the operator’s error. For starters, try Cafè Intermezzo, a classic bistro, on Peachtree Road (not on weekend nights in which the human population is rather coarse and unsophisticated), they have a machine that would fit in Terry Gillian’s Brazil. The ultra-modern E-Bar Cyber Cafè (they serve only Illy), downtown by Woodruff Park is a well kept secret –I wonder if it still exists. Baraonda on Peachtree serves a good espresso, and so does the famous Apres Diem, while for cappuccino I would pick Sotto Sotto, on North Highland’s SOPO (South of Ponce de Leon). Riccardo, the owner, is a mean trainer, with little tolerance for Americanization, though unlike Primo, the chef in the fabulous movie The Big Night, made it through the eternal struggle between copy and original. Back to the ranch, I have enjoyed American coffee for three decades. I have even fallen in love with it. American coffee has its merits. It is soft, it lasts longer, it goes well with crème or milk, it warms you up on a cold morning, it’s comforting, and it is a work companion, capable of following you around your chores –all feats which Italian coffee is incapable of. If you are still reading this article, you may value and respect Europe and its traditions, but let’s say that you are an American nationalist (please, not a modern patriot) who but would only buy a Ford, a GM, a Cadillac, a Lincoln (or a Saturn) and let’s say that you had it with all this foreign pretense. You are developing a xenophobia for everything that is foreign – trust me, it comes and goes. In other words, you are in the mood for plain and simple American coffee and you want to experience it in all its grandeur – incidentally, you may be an Italian who is open to new experiences – well, you are one lucky guy, for there are numerous places that serve great coffee. One of the best cups I have ever had in Atlanta is served at San Francisco Coffee, on North Highland Avenue. Also, for a reliable, freshly brewed cup, try Einstein Brothers (Elmo & Elvin), any location, or for landmark aficionados, try the drop-dead gorgeous, 50’s original “Silver Skillet” Diner on 14th Street, where the waiting staff is more vintage than the place itself. Don’t forget to notice the Formica on the tables. It is an original designed by Bruno Munari in Milano in 1954. Seattle Best, at most airports, serves excellent American coffee, though, the best thing about American coffee, unlike in Italy, you do not need special assistance. You can buy any famous beans, grind them, and make your own. It will be as good as the one you buy outside. But today is your lazy day, and you might have read this article to get orientation in the jungle of Italian-style coffee-houses. You are tired of the drinking the same thing, have money to spare and, when you go to work, you don’t have time to establish where to stop –or a combination of all the above. Then Aurora Coffee is your place, my friend. You will be pleasantly surprised. Unlike other franchises, its employees are friendly, kind, unpretentious, they use the right coffee, and they seem to know what they are doing with “la macchina”. They are obviously trained. I gained a wealth of knowledge at their location in Ansley Mall and Virginia-Highlands. Their first item on the list, the Espresso, corresponds more or less to our caffè lungo, sometimes it borderlines the character of a French coffee, depending on the machine operator. But its bouquet is richly soft (meaning, non acidic) and both the selection and the freshness of the roast does not get better on this side of the ocean. Forget a ristretto, you will never get it in the U.S. A Double – two shots of espresso – is an unclouded attempt to set your personal blood-pump up for trouble or sudden heart failure. Probably it is provided in honor to caffeine-addicts, coming from a grueling break-in experience at the “Caribou” across the street, where customer must have stainless-steel lining in their guts. Messing with your heart is entirely up to you. So, here is how you can “customize” your coffee drink at Aurora Coffee. An Espresso Macchiato is a hybrid beetween an Italian macchiato which is probably half the size of it, and the beginning of a cappuccino. But it works. Aurora’s Cappuccino, is truly one of the closest things to an Italian cappuccino flavor you can find in Atlanta, paradoxically, since size, proportions and preparation are altered. You can never guess! But feel the aroma. These guys know how to take it intact out of the beans –trust me, most people don’t! I give it a vote of eight out of a scale of ten. The Latte, is the American version of our mother’s latte-caffè, but with a clear resemblance to a soft cappuccino –more milk. It is excellent. A Moka (elsewhere known as mokaccino) is essentially the same thing, only made with steamed chocolate milk instead of regular milk. A Shot in the Dark is quite an original invention, which resembles the attempt of the Italian “corretto” to boost up one’s drink. It is a shot of espresso dropped into a regular cup of American coffee. What an original idea! Expectedly, opposite to it, there is the Americano, which is the attempt to make the espresso palatable to the American taste, by diluting a shot of espresso into a cup of water. I find it humorous, if overly self-conscious. But, please, do not confuse the latter with American coffee, obtained by dripping method, with complete different types of beans, faster roasting process and coarser grind. It still tastes as good as their espresso, only without the punch. By the way, always drink some water after an espresso. Take it from the ancient wisdom of the masters of long life. Aurora has definitively a witty sense of humor, for it has made room for the fancy and whimsical customer without compromising its basic products, including good American coffee. The following terms define other possible variations on the aforementioned, basic themes. These are new terms. Skinny, for calorie-aware consumers, which defines anything made with skim milk. You may find it kind of lifeless, unless you are well adept to food deprivation (i.e.diet), but your conscience will be happy. For your information, all dietary products remain suspicious items to a true Italian. Our grandparents never did diet and lived way past ninety. Then there is a Bald, which means a cap without froth. Of course, Decaf is available, but why bother? The Halfcaf, nice accommodation for both the guilty and the eternally undecided type, could be a viable alternative for coffee-addicts. And, lastly, Iced for very hot days and ice-maniacs. Two choices of size: short and tall. As the funny cartoon says, it can get quite complicated as in a “tall, single, bald, skinny, decaf latte, iced, to go.” Can you imagine the face of an Italian bartender after an order of this kind? I does not matter whether you find this list amusing or strange, because, if you are foreign in this country you are here for a reason: to get out of your habitual way of thinking and to enjoy life without so many prejudices. Ergo, if you are open-minded, and are ready to invest five dollars on your coffee, in the U.S. can get as fancy as you like. How about a White Moka Cappuccino? Or a custom frappè-cap called Double Fudge Chocolate Brownie Frappuccino? Sounds sinfully fat but it isn’t. Of course, capricious people are found at capricious coffee-houses. Leave therefore Aurora to those coffee-hounds with an evolved sense of smell. Starbucks is for the happy-go-lucky, fashion follower, instant-gratification, uncritical citizen – happiness guaranteed! Who is going to be the next star? Since the recent demise of French imports (French have been accusing Americans of having an attitude –could you believe it?) should we expect that a “lattè” may evolve in a genre per se, as a world-wide renown drink? I take bets. But do not ask me why these mighty franchises can’t hire a translator. One would hope, it is to help with the pronunciation that an accent is set on the “e” instead of on the “a” where it is supposed to be. It’s a world upside-down. But maybe the next star won’t be coffee. Parmigiano is “evolving” too –it has already found its way into pizzas and (horror!) into fish! Let’s hope that our collective pursuit to happiness may remain a birthright. Whether you like it monotone or with colors, let’s play along and enjoy the ride. If you are still with me, I know I got you hooked to caffeine. It was not my original purpose, but now you have someone you can blame. Have a good cup! Yours truly, A.G.P.