Sunday Riposo (a weekly series)
We Need a Coffee. We Just Had a Coffee. We Need Another Coffee.
I walk into my local coffee bar in Catania. David & Enzo say, "Ciao Roberto, ciao Bolt! Cappuccino e' cornetto?" Me: "Certo, lo stesso" ("Of course, the same!"). Thirty seconds later my cappuccion and cornetto are in front of me, we trade our daily hellos, me stumbling through Italian, him stumbling through English, and somehow it works. Bolt at my feet, I pay my €2.90 and I'm out in ninety seconds flat, possibly the only thing Italians do fast.
So let's talk about coffee while you're probably drinking yours out of a mug the size of a cereal bowl. Mine, when I'm in Sicily, comes in a cup that sits in your palm, costs about a euro, and I drink it standing at a bar, shoulder to shoulder with someone in a suit and another in work boots.
I used to think that was the whole difference. Small cup, big cup. Turns out it's not about the size all.
Here's proof. My wife and I wake up daily at 5:45am. First coffee, no negotiation needed, that one's for both of us. By 8:00am we're heading to the office at www.cataniapilates.com and on the way I hear…
My wife: "We need a coffee before we get to the office."
Me: "We just had one."
Her: "Well, I need another one."
Me: "Ummm, okay."
We stop and I don't argue. Arguing about coffee in a house with a Sicilian in it is not a fight you win, ever, and you can fact check that! We get to the office, she teaches a few Pilates classes and I'm editing or writing something (actually this article). 10:30 am rolls around and she pops into my office.
Her: "Scuza, Americano, I need a coffee."
Me: "We had one less than two hours ago."
Her: "I need a coffee to get through to lunch."
Me: "But you're about to have a two hour lunch, maybe three, can it wait?"
Her: “Basta! Stronzo! I’ll just go alone.”
Me: 😳 🤐
Remember that argument comment earlier? Yeah, I just got up and we walked around the corner for another coffee. The day is only four hours old and we’re 3 coffee stops in.
Here's what I finally figured out. It was never really about the coffee. It's about the walk with her husband to get it, the two minutes standing at the counter, the small hello to whoever's behind it. My wife isn't chasing caffeine three times before lunch, she's building three small pauses into her day, drinking something while she slows down life.
As far back as I can remember, my mom would make me a little coffee and milk before school, and I'd dip bread in it. That was just normal to me. Looking back, it was mostly milk, barely any coffee and just a little sugar as her way of keeping something from Italy alive while adjusting it for a kid too young for the real thing in Tampa.
In America, coffee culture is a bit different. A size, a modifier, a syrup, a temperature, a name on a cup that is somehow never quite your name. You're paying three, four, five dollars for a plain black coffee before any of the add on’s even show up. There's a drive thru lane built entirely around the idea of convenience, but maybe it’s more isolation?
In Sicily, coffee is simple. Before we keep going, here's the whole coffee menu:
Caffè: espresso, €.90 - €1.25
Doppio: double espresso, €1.25 - €1.75
Macchiato: espresso with a small dab of milk, €1.50 - €2.00
Cappuccino: what you think it is, just smaller, €1.75 - €2.50
You walk in, say what you want in about three words, someone who has made ten thousand of these hands it to you and you drink it right there, standing at the bar, all in under a standard TV commercial break. The coffee bar is Italy’s drive thru. But no one is really in a rush, but nobody's lingering either.
Here I am, a guy who has been known to order something with four adjectives in front of it, writing a story about how coffee shouldn't need adjectives. Living on 52nd and 1st
in NYC, I have a Starbucks right below me, well, everyone does in NYC because there are so many. I order on the app, pop in, look for my name, pour my creamer, and off I go to work. Sometimes to a film set, other times to teach a cycle or run class. My mind always racing about work, work, work. Wow, how different I've become!
But I get why it happened in the USA. Bigger country, bigger portions, bigger everything, and somewhere along the way "more" started standing in for "better." Think about it…Venti, Trenta, Big Gulp, Super Size, King Size, Jumbo…you get the picture. I’m not saying the $9.00 oat milk latte is a moral failing. I'm saying there's a version of this ritual that takes less time, less calories but with much more taste.
I don't think the answer is smaller cups either. I think the answer is smaller expectations of what the cup is supposed to do for you.
It's not supposed to be breakfast, a meeting, a personality, and a caffeine delivery system all at once. It's supposed to be a destination that includes a few sips with a pause...until the next one.
A presto! Live your pawfect life.
Robert & Bolt
Comments