When in Rome…
27th May 2013 by
Impeccably tasteful, packed with glorious works of art and a place where pavement café-based people-watching is a national pastime. Not Chorlton – Italy.
There’s been coffee in Italy for over 400 years. The story goes that it was initially condemned as the devil’s drink, when Vatican officials decided its Middle Eastern origins constituted an infidel threat. Then Pope Clement VIII had a cup – and then he had another one. He gave it his papal blessing and most of Western Europe breathed a sigh of relief and brewed up.
While most of our coffee vocabulary comes from Italy, many of the things we do with the drink itself emphatically don’t. Step away from the flavour syrups, the drizzles and the sprinkles, coffee lovers: if you really want to drink like the experts, here are a couple of things to note.
A caffè in Italy is a tiny bombshell of espresso, brewed fast and strong and ideally served by a man in a waistcoat and bow tie. Near-boiling water is forced through the coffee under pressure using a machine the size of a small car. The crema, a light foam on the surface, is a sign of good one, made with a machine and a barista both firing on all cylinders. Italians drink it pretty much all day, even late at night. It’s best drunk standing up, and if a single’s not enough, ask for a double – un doppio – but the Italians prefer to take their coffee little and often. They also never call it espresso, at least not to its face: it’s just un caffè.
Caffè Lungo (a long coffee) isn’t just a regular caffè with water added: that’s an Americano. Lungo is made by forcing more water through the coffee in the filter. That means it’s a bigger drink and may taste a little thinner than espresso, but it isn’t necessarily any weaker. Sounds good to me.
Capuccino is a caffè with steamed milk and milk froth, named either after monks or monkeys, not sure which. The old cliché goes that no-one in Italy drinks a cappuccino after 11.00am, but that’s not true: American tourists do it all the time. Expect to be looked at in a slightly pitying way by baristas and you may need to offer an apology. It’s something to do with an Italian disapproval of milky coffee at any time other than breakfast. Talking of which…
Caffè Latte, which is made up of equal quantities of lungo and hot milk. Not for me. That’s all I’m saying on the subject.
Note: ask for a Frappucino in Italy and they’ll have you arrested. If it’s hot outside, opt for a Caffè Freddo, or the splendidly named Caffè Shakerato, shaken with sugar and ice cubes. Another great choice for a decadent sunny day is an Affogato (‘drowned’), which is an espresso poured over proper ice cream, and every bit as lovely as it sounds – just eat it while it’s still hot and cold.
I think there’s a law in Italy that forbids tampering with coffee in any non-dairy way, but the Caffè Corretto (literally ‘corrected coffee’) is an acceptable, no-nonsense start to the day. Go into any bar at breakfast time, you’ll see the corretto crowd standing along the counter. Blink, though, and you’ll miss them. Corretto is a drop of grappa or brandy in an espresso, downed in one. No messing, no regrets. It’s one of those admirable Euro-male habits like the French boiled-egg-and-cognac-breakfast, or smoking while standing waist-deep in the sea, as Spanish men often do.
And one more, crucially important characteristic of the Italian coffee drinker: they call it campanilismo – literally a devotion to your local belltower. It means you take your coffee in your local bar, where they know you and you know them. The coffee’s good, the company’s good.
So let’s get out there and smell the coffee here in M21: not out of a paper bucket or a double-handled FA Cup replica, but a proper cup and saucer (a teeny biscuit on the side would be lovely, thanks). We want quality, we want crema and we’re lucky to have it on our own doorsteps.
By the way, literally minutes of research has led me to believe that you can’t get a Corretto in Chorlton – at least not before the morning school run. Anyone know differently?
