Latte darling.

This tale is completely true.

My sister used to live in inner city Melbourne – a place where coffee is king. There are a myriad number of coffee places – from the gigantic chains, and the ubiquitous Aunty’s place…all the way to the tiniest hole in the wall barista plying his (or her – but normally his) trade.

The inner city is also home to The Pretentious Wanker (aka The Suit). You know the type – Zegna suit, flashy tie, surgically attached to his mobile phone… Master of his Universe

Picture this…

A tiny hole in the wall cafe; has two stand up tables, serves perfect coffee every morning, then shuts for the day around 11am.

A small, old, perpetually angry Italian barista.

The Suit.

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The cafe is crowded, roaring trade at 8am, people waiting patiently for their coffees. The Suit swarms into the cafe, elbows his way through the patiently waiting throngs, talking loudly on his mobile phone, slams some coins on the counter and demands “Latte”

The barista hands him his latte and The Suit takes a gigantic and manly swig.

The Suit: (spitspitspit) THIS IS JUST MILK!!!!

The Barista: (shrugs) You order latte. NEX’

 

The Bean of Life

The groovy cool cafe near work is Very Rude to fat people (unless they are very cool) and prior to Christmas, I got seriously ignored.Two of my friends still get ignored there; and refuse to darken their door and fatten their till with their hard earned cash. So when I have break with them, we go to a chain of coffee shops named after someone’s aunty. BUT Groovy but Rude Cafe has MUCH MUCH MUCH better coffee, the best florentines I have discovered so far, AND, now I am comparitively thin, they can see me and therefore give me good service!

So I have a moral dilemma – do I spend my $20 a week elsewhere; and sacrifice the wellbeing of my tastebiddies for the greater good of society?

Or do I say – To Hell with you all! The Coffee is what’s important! And the Florentine!

So far, I am leaning toward the coffee and the florentine overruling the moral imperative to support my chunky sisters. I am indeed a shallow and trivial person. But man, after a few cups from GbRC, the Aunty’s offering is shall we say… Thin. Watery. Insubstantial. Basically crap. They had a guy there briefly who made a GOOD cup of coffee. In fact, that’s when I really noticed the difference – that their normal offering is indeed pretty wishy washy, and generally quite unsatisfying. The girls both drink weak coffee; I think it’s about the socialisation for them; a chat and a warm drink.

Whereas for me it’s about the bean. It’s ALL about the bean.

I drink coffee because I like the taste of a well brewed drop. When I was pregnant, and couldn’t drink it; I was devastated. I MISSED it. In fact, of all the foods I wasn’t allowed or physically couldn’t eat – coffee was the only one I was sad about. Oh, I missed chocolate as well – but nothing like the degree to which I missed coffee. I would sniff at Other People’s Cups and lurk around coffee grinders which is hard to do secretly when one is 11 and a half months pregnant. I like my Arabica, I order a cafe latte (because I do not want a cup of warm milk, thank you very much); given a selection of cafes to purchase a coffee, I will decide based on the bean served (Fan of Lavazza, Vittoria, Illy… Not a fan of Aurora or Mio); and if I were not so lazy, would grind my own beans freshly each day.

I Like Coffee.

Instant just doesn’t cut it in the coffee stakes any more. I do still drink it to be polite and to have a warm drink with a chat – just a splash of milk, thanks. No sugar. But life’s too short for bad coffee!