“What can I get for you?” the barista asks as the familiar sounds of the café fill my ears – the steam wand wailing like an angry banshee, and the beans grinding so loudly that no one can hear anything. I look around at the cozy ambience, but there is no need to check the drink menu as the smell of coffee stimulates my senses. I already know what I am going to order.
“I’d like a cappuccino, please.”
“Awesome,” she says. “And what size cappuccino would you like?”
“Pardon me?”
“What size? Small, medium or large?”
“Well, there is only one size of cappuccino,” I reply. “Because a traditional cappuccino has a very exacting ratio of 1/3 espresso, 1/3 steamed milk and 1/3 foam, which translates to a two-ounce double shot of espresso, two ounces of steamed milk, and two ounces of foam. Whether I order it ‘wet’ or ‘dry’, the total volume is still six ounces. So, there is no need to ask about what size I would prefer. A medium or large cappuccino is actually a latte. I don’t want a latte. I want a cappuccino.”
By this point in the conversation, the barista doesn’t know how to respond, and there are usually caffeine-starved customers lining up behind me. I either order a small cappuccino, or I give up entirely and order a half-sweet caramel macchiato because that doesn’t usually require any further explanation.
I travel often, and when I do I like to try different coffee shops. I invariably order a cappuccino as my test drink of choice – not because I want to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or because the cappuccino is such a wonderful drink (which it is), but how it is made tells a great deal about the shop, the quality of the barista, and the quality of the espresso used within the cappuccino. A good coffee shop should serve a cappuccino in a ceramic or porcelain cup, and the best shops do so without asking.
Unfortunately, there are both chain and independent coffee shops that serve cappuccino and espresso in disposable cups and only have real cups as decoration. It’s not a good sign when I have specifically request one.
There have been a number of incidents where I have walked into what seems like a quality coffee shop, had a look around, and walked back out again. Noting three sizes of cappuccino sends shivers down my spine and I physically recoil like I have touched an electric fence. I also do so when I notice an accent over the letter ‘e’ in latte. Latte is not a French word; it is Italian. There is no accent. Even the marketing experts at 7-Eleven got that one wrong. (To be fair, disserting coffee drinkers may not be their biggest priority.) But nothing is worse than when the menu board advertises Hot Drink’s and Cold Drink’s. I am taking my business elsewhere if you continue to pluralize with an apostrophe. Please stop.
At some point, sickly-sweet flavoured lattes and frappa-mocha-chinos have found mass appeal, and the real flavours of the beans and the art of the roasting process have been masked by syrup and whipped cream and chocolate drizzle and pumpkin spice. We typically don’t sit by ourselves or with friends and take time out to enjoy our coffee anymore; we prefer to make use of the drive-thru service and suck back caffeinated drinks as we whip around town or shop for groceries.
However, all is not lost. While we in Creston are just as guilty as those flailing about in the big cities, and we rush around with our tankards of bad coffee, I know I will never hear the dreaded, “What size cappuccino?” from the folks at Kingfisher Used Books & Fine Coffee. They don’t add unnecessary accents or apostrophes; I will not be served my drink in a disposable cup; and I can occasionally count on some foam art (though Joe needs practice – his fern looks like it was painted by Picasso after a bar fight).
Submitted by Chris Brauer
