Art of Coffee

I've been a coffee drinker for most of my life and as a teenager spent many part time working hours in cafes learning and perfecting the craft of frothing the perfect cappuccino.

For me, a good cup of cappuccino must start with an accurately expressed coffee. In Italian it is called an espresso, a term that is widely adopted across the world. Conversely in Australia we also call it a short black. Here in Canada and the UK, a single short. The espresso must be rich in colour and texture, reminiscent of hot runny honey. I prefer a darker roast with a fuller body and less acidity.

As the roasting process occurs offsite, the only control your local cafe has over your morning cup o' joe is really just the milk, if you're ordering an espresso based drink such as a cappuccino or latte. In Australia we also have a flat white which is a latte with no froth. In the UK I've heard this referred to as a dry latte.

Frothing milk is an art in itself. Too much air and your foam becomes too bubble intense. The foam feels dry and brittle in your mouth, contradicting the experience a warming beverage should give you, which is warmth and softness and delicious wetness. Too little air means little or no foam, which defeats the velvety lightness you receive with good foam. Cappuccinos in my opinion should be quite foamy, but I find the Canadians far too liberal with the airing. The first cappucino I ordered here was presented as a trecherous mountain peak sitting atop the rims of my cup. And to my horror, a standard for this town. The experience left me clinging to the safety of low latte ground. A good cappuccino should encapsulate your mouth with a gentle tide of creamy coffee and not sting you with a hot flat rush that was hidden underneath a floating fortress.

Good coffee, in any language, will always put a smile on my face.

Dedicated to my very good friend Clare, who has forever changed the meaning of coffee for me.