last spring, my friend cecilia and i traveled through northern italy. we visited a café across from milan centrale following an early morning of train travel, aiming to wake ourselves up. standing in line we eyed the bountiful pastry counter, the baristas laughing as they worked, and the warmly-chatting patrons that filled the cafe overflowing onto the sunny open patio.
waiting for our drinks by the espresso counter, i was suddenly in awe.
a barista gently poured wet-paint milk into a glass of ombré’d espresso. she briefly stopped and started again, carefully folding the steamed contents into the pool of amber crema below. she formed a design not unlike an intricate christmas wreath, somehow ladling the frothing jug with the thoughtful precision i imagined renaissance masters would paint with.
placing the immaculate cup upon a saucer, she tucked a small silver soon beside it and pushed the completed masterpiece towards the eager guest in front of me.
“latte?” she asked, but there was no question; i wanted badly to be a barista again. it was her technique, displayed in a comfortable and jovial setting before a face that exuded the glow of enthusiasm in accepting a drinkable work of art. the conversation they made after the customer asked where the sugar was, the focus and satisfaction on the barista’s face: it was all such a beautiful sight.
moments like this remind me that there’s something so compelling about coffeeshops. i’ve been drawn to them my whole life. when i’m not at home, i’m likely at a café nursing a latte in whatever city i find myself in. local shops quickly become a safe haven where i can study, read, write, and meet with good friends for captivating conversation. as i wrote in my last post, i aim for this substack to capture the essence of briefly slowing down, sitting with a friend (you!) for a moment of reflection as the world moves by around us. there’s been no better setting for such an activity than one that’s over coffee.
for years i’ve sought to identify what underlies my passion for the coffeehouse environment. growing up in seattle, i assumed it was due to the cultural influence. i theorize the same way pub culture thrives in ireland (incessant rainy weather must be a uniting factor) those in the PNW collect in coffee shops. becoming a barista made my proclivity to hang out in coffeeshops profitable. i would later work in multiple venues and eventually studied the science behind the bean. since hanging up my apron i’ve remained a dedicated café-goer, but to me, coffee is a small part of the overall picture.
there’s two main elements to the equation of coffee culture: the coffee itself, and the experience paired with it.
i’ve learned it’s not just the drink that compels me. in america, the beverage is prioritized over the experience, likely for its promise of productivity. moving to europe made all the difference in the way i viewed my relationship to this addictive substance, not unlike other drugs. the popularity of tiny, bare-minimum drive-thru stands across america proves the need for quick coffee fixes, as do the prevalence of large, to-go centered chains (namely starbucks). they often impress their focus on community through careful branding, but having worked at one myself, it seems that community comes second to efficiency.
it became rapidly apparent that if customers could magically receive their order by the press of a button, human-free, they would. mobile ordering nearly achieves this. this inclination is not without its reasons - many are office-bound, pushing past their exhaustion in the early hours of the morning to acquire the help of caffeinated concoctions, conveniently customizable in any inextricable number of ways. it can be the highlight of a workday, this (primarily) solo ritual. it seems american coffee culture isn’t about sitting down and relaxing, it’s about coffee.
while in europe, i noticed the equation was flipped. in italian cafes, guests relaxed and savored the ambiance of the surroundings, the carefree flow of conversation, and the mornings as they faded delicately into midday. cecilia and i wrote for the entire morning at that milanese cafe, leisurely basking in the sunshine of their outdoor seating, with no obligation to rush.
vienna treated the coffee experience just as seriously. i learned it was customary for guests to sit for hours while reading the newspaper; writing, mingling, and savoring their drinks. the history of vienna’s collective coffeehouses is well known, and many still thrive today as vibrant and vital social institutions. i spent almost all my time in vienna sitting in various cafés, practicing my german with charming servers and writing while i people-watched. there was no pressure to hurry, or even to order: the staff let me be, but was always quick to attend to me if i looked like i needed help. i’d never concentrated so completely and enjoyably on the (printed!) new york times before, attached to a convenient wooden rack, over espresso after high-quality espresso. i left each café shaking from my utter overconsumption of caffeine, but i had a huge smile on my face.
living in dublin, i’d become a regular at a handful of beloved cafés (all of which i’ll list in a guide soon!), and being a student as well as writer, i found no setting more conducive to my focus and enjoyment. all were walking distance from campus, right in the heart of the city, each offering their own individual charm. it’s in these cafés that it occurred to me why i didn’t want to study anywhere else, why i gravitated towards coffeeshops my whole life: the community of it all, the sharing in the day with familiar strangers over great coffee. i felt more creative, more alive, more connected.
i want to live my life in spaces like these; to seek them out and to create them myself. life lived slowly, with intention, prioritizing creativity, small pleasures, and community. especially now, it feels like need community more than anything else - to slow down, enjoy the moment, and meaningfully connect.
until we meet next week,
constanze