Italian Espresso vs American Coffee...What not to order on your next trip to Italy

I grew up watching those Hogan's Heroes episodes ... they'd stand around...wishing for something hot and then spit out whatever it was they'd be served, usually coffee. BC Comics called it swill. With all that bad press, it's a wonder how any of us grew up to be coffee drinkers. And while I'll take an Illy Caffè Italian cappuccino over any coffee in all 50 states (okay...well maybe excluding New Orleans), when you happen upon a good cuppa...it's really not so bad.

But ask any Italian, and for as long as I can remember...they would wince at the mere thought of taking a sip from that horrid cup of "extra long" used bathwater...And this, I believe, is the true reason why Starbucks didn't make such a swift move into the Bel Paese. In all these years, I never really got into the down and murky dirtiness...to convince Italians otherwise. Who was I to explain that the real reason they were disgusted by Caffè Americano had nothing to do with American coffee? At all.

But then, I was talking to a friend's teenage son who had just come back from NYC. When I asked him what he liked about his trip he said..with a note of surprise in his voice, "I thought the coffee was amazing." While I also think his tastebuds were distracted from the idea of camping out on a plush sofa with freewifi at a a local Starbucks...versus downing a 1 inch high sip standing at a bar counter...I could see his point. Up til now, his version of Caffè Americano was basically the water that is left at the bottom of my Bialetti coffee pot -- after I've already bubbled up the contents and poured it into my cappuccino.

So after 25-odd years, I'm going to finally come clean for the Italian people, and...for all the unsuspecting American tourists who come to Italy - begging for a super long Caffè Americano:

No...An American Coffee is NOT the end result of an espresso machine that's forced to urinate all the leftover water, calcium deposits and murky espresso bean slime until it's a faint yellowish piddle flowing into your cup.

Baristas still seem to think that that's what we do in America. Just add water. Instead, American coffees are left to soak up their Burnt Sienna grounds...percolate, so to speak. [We actually get a bigger hit of caffeine than from a standard espresso because of that.] So..you try an American Coffee at your peril. You begin to beg for something that represents prehistoric swill.

Recently, an American couple breezed into one of the bars on the Appian Way and asked for a big ol' cuppa Joe to Go. They grabbed their Monster-sized cups (by espresso standards, anyway) and took off before I could warn them that what they ordered...wasn't quite an American brew. I found their (full) cups in a bin not much further along.

And so I've now come full circle on the Starbucks in Italy idea...Because, if you could actually serve up real American coffee...who knows? It might just catch on.

POSTSCRIPT:  It's 2018 & I just had the experience of ordering a 4.80 "Latte" -- Starbucks has only opened in Milano...and, as I predicted on my Facebook Page @IrreverentItaly , prices were going to be on the up & up -- It's started.

In any case, if you would like to make your own cuppa espresso –– check out the selection of the best of the best! Their team ground, tamped and frothed their way through market leaders to find which machines delivered expert results through an intuitive and user-friendly design. Check it out here
But, do the planet a favor...and stay away from the pods...per favore..

You say croissant, I say cornetto

Every morning in Italy, millions of paesani head weary-eyed over to their favorite bar for their morning cup of espresso or cappuccino and their choice of bread-item to go along with it.  Any innocent bystander will hear the routine request made to the barista or cashier madly ringing up the sales throughout the morning rush, only to be bombarded again at around the 10am coffee break.  And what they ask for is ‘A caffè & a brioche.’  If you take the time to notice, what they get served on the other hand, is a tidy twisted version of an actual brioche, much to the dismay of the French who are quite particular about their vernacular getting bastardized in any way, shape or form; they receive the conical croissant, around some parts also more aptly called the cornetto or cornet.

Picture from Womenoclock.com

While on holiday in the Piedmont mountains, nestled just a few kilometers from the French border, well, they took the original brioche and made it even better: stuffing it with creamy gelato, three flavors take your pick.  But the picture on the poster actually showed the real McCoy (or perhaps in this case, The Macaron...) a real brioche with its button top.  

In Sicily, it's served up with lemon granita, just like this
picture from Non Solo Pizza & Cinema.com

I’m not sure when it was, exactly, when brioches in the rest of the Peninsula morphed into croissants.  With the close ties between France and Italy, when they weren’t fighting wars, well, you’d be forgiven for thinking that many more words should have French roots and not just in Italy’s northern Valle d’Aosta. 

I mean, it’d be like calling the stupendous Spätzle that you find trickling down from Austria into the Trentino region, not gnocchi (their sister food), but goulash -- made from a wholly different pasta-item hailing from Austria, if they so much as had one to offer.

Clearly, the pudgy brioche didn’t have an entire food association bestowing it with DOC labels and seals of approval to keep its lable pure and its branding unblemished like the prosciutto or parmigiano lobbies.  Nonetheless, I wonder what the folks over at Slow Food have to say on the matter.

Italian Cooking? Fugheddaboutit.

Leave it to the Americans to take a wonderful, unadulterated sublime thing like Italian cuisine - pasta & prosecco included - and turn it into a 21st century update of Tuna Helper.  After all, I am in the land of spam.  So, landing in Detroit, the urban landscape and every place in between is boasting their 'italian-ness' - from biscotti (pronounced: bis-kaht-ee) at Starbucks to heaping plates of gnocchi (pronounced: ga-knockee by most everyone) served up hot and as gooey as Chinese pot-stickers.

A friend posted this terrific Ad Fail for a great pasta place on his facebook page, which took a few of us awhile to even figure out the play on words...try & see if you can manage the pun.  Driving around, I've run into Johnny Pomodoro's (originally called, Nino Salvaggio's).  Nearby was Cheesy Luigi's and Tomatoes Apizza (spoken with your best Godfather impression).  When you leave, you can go home and turn on Jersey Shore*.  Pretty soon, we'll have Frankie Avalon & Louis Prima playing the Palace.

My dad loved to quip how, when he was growing up, Cornmeal Polenta was a sure sign of poor, near-starving immigrants.  Now it goes for $15 a dish - grilled, of course.  But at least back in the '50s, Italian-Americans took their food seriously - and you could go to Gino's Pizza or La Traviata ristorante -- and eat serious Italian cooking without the gimmicks.

*Advisory Warning:  The Italian govt has issued a warning for students coming to New York as they are filming in the student dorms - suggesting they shouldn't sign off on any documents nor get filmed.  Too bad the govt neglects to remember that it's an Italian dream to rise to Reality Show stardom.

The Best Espresso in Rome? Better order Decaf

...to calm your nerves after the ordeal. 

A lot of ink has been spilled on the trials & tribulations of getting a good cup 'a Giò in Italy, in the USA, at home, you name it.  The results have been researched, reviled & riling the feathers of many who have come before.  But the best piece of writing - ever - on the topic comes from the NYTimes - 2002 report by William Grimes who searches for this Holy Grail in New York City, and draws the conclusion -- better to forego the ersatz drink and head straight to Rome's annointed Sant'Eustachio coffee bar.  Figures.  He's a New Yorker.
The "service" of Sant'Eustachio (and I use the term quite loosely) could mirror the legendary rudeness of a New York waiter who was just told he was fired, owed 3 years' back taxes and the table he's serving was the Tax Man here to collect them.  One walk into the Sant'Eustachio bar and I'm wholly convinced I've been transported to Milan - and that's a bald-faced lie - because the baristas in Milano have never been anything less than fun, flamboyant & fenomenale.  So I'm transported to a Milanese grocery store instead.  Like their Milanese fratelli, the Sant'Eustacchio guys simply don't care - the business keeps 'em pouring in the door - and the caffè dripping from the spouts (and at $3/cup, the euros flowing into the cash drawer, as well).
I was once "invited" on Facebook to become a Fan of Sant'Eustachio.  There was no greater disconnect I could think of on Earth than to "Friend" a place that seriously doesn't want friends, need them, nor care further about my custom.  The experience at Sant'Eustachio is basically Seinfeld's 'Soup Nazi' - Italian style.  If you've managed to make it past the cashier gauntlet to place your order without getting thrown out first, you then need to crowd at the bar - 4 persons deep - and elbow your way in for them to actually make it.  It's part of the 'experience'.  I've seen tiny goats climb atop a herd of sheep to steal a morsel from the trough at feeding time have better luck.
Check out the picture on their website, and it is clearly running counter to 'truth in advertising' laws [men gathered, obviously during wartime when millions were busy on five fronts, women were in the factories, and no tourists were milling about].
If you order the excellent Grancaffè (and I would strongly advise against asking what the other dozen or so 'types' on offer mean), you can barely suck it down before  being elbowed out by the onslaught of new customers waiting their turn.  They offer a (slightly) pre-sweetened brew in their secret recipe--the real secret is that they don't want anyone so much as spending the 3 seconds it would take to pour in the sugar & swirl.  So much for the slow pace of Italian life. Only Americans, who leave their coffee shops with the actual cup in hand drink faster.
I think the NYTimes author got it all wrong:  It's not called espresso for the way the coffee shoots up into the pot, it's the urgency of the experience brought to an art form at Caffè Sant'Eustachio.
But, is it worth the effort?  My American guest was thrilled down to her toes at the  entire affair.  We found a nice corner to enjoy our brew slowly, and even got to exchange quips with the furiously-paced wait staff.  I did find out later (on trip advisor), that if we'd placed our tip within eyeshot, we may have been served before breaking into a cold sweat & contractions reminiscent of childbirth.
But on the whole, before 'Fanning & Faving' Sant'Eustachio, I'll take my cue and paraphrase one Groucho Marx: I wouldn't want to join any group that really would rather not have me as a member.

Related Links:

• Espresso maker review
• Rome's Bounty (2006)
• Turin's coffee experience
• Ordering coffee in Italy

Prendiamo un caffè?

I received a wonderful little write up in my friend Susan Evan's Umbrian Il Gusto del Paese newsletter of the various ways in which Italians can imbibe in their morning coffee. It is such a treat to actually watch the ordering in action on a busy workday morning (10am's a good time for caffè spotting), that it even caught the imagination of the ingenious cartoonist, Bruno Bozzetto.

A bit of research later, here's a full listing compiled by the magazine, Focus.it. If you go to their site, (just be sure to click the strange links at the article bottom instead of trying to do the right thing hitting next page), you'll see the listing topping off at 111 types, with Irish coffees, Sultanas, and, my very very favorite, the most amazing coffee treat you will ever have in a 3 second long sip, Torino's famous Bicerin.* And let me tell you, the Torinese rival the Viennese when it comes to wonderfully baroque coffee bars. In Naples you get a lemon slice (and a helpful glass of water to wash it down with), in Milan, we order 'Marocchini' (aka Moroccan coffees), which are mini-cappuccinos, and in Venice, Focus says, you can even find an espresso served with an egg inside, although I have never seen anyone try it. Might be a good cure for hangovers, however from your Venetian Happy Hours, something else to experience before one dies.

So, to totally plagiarize from Focus, here's their listing of what's on offer:

1) Amaro
 2) Ristretto 
3) Lungo
 4) Corto
 5) Alto
 6) Macchiato
 7) Macchiato caldo
 8) Macchiato freddo
 9) Decaffeinato 
10) Corretto 
11) Doppio
 12) Doppio in tazza grande
 13) D'orzo
 14) In tazza grande 
15) In tazza piccola
 16) Americano
 17) Cappuccino
 18) Cappuccino senza schiuma
 19) Cappuccino tiepido 
20) Cappuccino decaffeinato
 21) Cappuccino con cacao 
22) Caffellatte
 23) Latte macchiato
 24) Latte macchiato con decaffeinato
 25) Marocchi 
26) In tazza fredda
 27) Con latte freddo a parte 
28) Con latte caldo a parte 
29) Freddo
 30) Freddo shakerato
 31) Irish
 32) Frappé
 33) Caffè crème (Svizzera)

Rome's Sant' Eustachio caffè has a daunting list about three times the size of this one. But, don't try asking what things are. All the guys behind all the counters are the Italian equivalent of the Seinfeld Soup Nazis. In my opinion, the quality of the caffè does not outshine the frenzy of the unhappy drinking experience there.  You can find my writeup plus more Caveats & Carpe Diems in my Travel Tip Tab above.

*This bellissimo writeup from the place where it all started, at the Caffè Bicerin:

This historic drink of Turin, which has evolved from the eighteenth century “bavareisa”, was created right here in this café of the same name which jealously guards the traditional recipe. It’s an exquisite, hot drink- a mixture of espresso, chocolate ( the process is a well-guarded secret) and fresh cream. Served in a tall glass so you can admire the mouth watering melange of colours, the bicerin is a pleasure waiting to be discovered by those who love tempting the palate.

In 2001 the Bicerin was acknowledged as the “traditional Piedmontese drink” by the publication – Bollettino Ufficiale della Regione Piemonte.
Though “bicerin” means small glass, it is in fact packed with sustenance with its base of concentrated chocolate, topped with a layer of espresso, covered with cream. It is a power pack of energy.
(Lucia Sollazzo – La Repubblica)