It seems silly, but one coffee made San Francisco feel like my new home.
I have been struggling with American espresso since I got here. I had given up and been drinking filter coffee rather than facing the disappointment of a sub-standard flat-white replacement.
And then something wonderful happened. To kill time between my Dad-in-law’s tour bus, we went to a small cafe on Mason Street called Caffe Capriccio. He ordered a hot chocolate and I asked for a cup of coffee. However, when his hot chocolate arrived at our table I noticed something odd – silky milk, distinctive patterning where the chocolate and milk had met – the barista knew how to steam and pour milk!
I immediately turfed my cup o’joe and ordered for a double-shot soy latte in a small cup, daring to hope that I might have a reversal of coffee-fortune. And then it appeared on our table, complete with perfect fern patterning.
Not only did it look good, it tasted brilliant. Given, it was not up to a Deluxe or Mojo standard, but that didn’t matter one bit. The coffee was perfectly expressed and the milk was silky and consistent for the whole cup. Sigh.
You know what the really weird thing is? Up until drinking that coffee I had been suffering from a particularly icky cold/flu. I will spare you the details, but let me say it was severely unpleasant. Post-coffee, the cold/flu has receded and I’ve had more energy that I’ve had in a fortnight. Turns out all I needed was a decent coffee. Go figure.