On my most recent visit to New York City, one the most definitive realizations I came to about high quality espresso bars is that at any given time, a coffee shop is only as good as the barista on duty.
What I noticed as I visited various shops around the city was that I wasn't always having great espresso experiences. The consistency just wasn't there. Often I found that I could taste that the coffee was exceptional, the espresso roast was top-notch, but the barista did not always produce a prefect beverage.
For the record, my drink is a macchiato, and I've grown to expect and desire certain things in a good macchiato. The flavor profile comes first, and this was almost always to be expected in the NYC shops, but the most common detractor—and the secret to a good macchiato (or cappuccino, or cortado, or latte) I believe—is the mouth-feel. This is delivered from the preparation of the milk, and the hand of the barista.
Texture is so important in good espresso; it the difference between good and great. The qualities I look for are thickness, and smoothness. I can't tell you how many thin, watery macchiatos I've gotten. The crema should persist all the way to the last sip. And when the froth separates from the coffee, it's all over.
Surprisingly, I had only one heavenly macchiato experience that accomplished all this: Joe: Art of Coffee near Union Square. And to be fair, almost all the coffee I had was excellent, I just had rather high expectations.
I look foward to bringing my own barista hands to the city to see what brews.
August 12, 2007
July 29, 2007
Triple Ristretto and Menu Size
The Madison espresso scene has been good to me, and I've been lucky to have learned and shared so much with fellow barristas in the downtown area, but I must be moving on. In September I will be relocating to New York City, home of the recent espresso bar boom, and land of the triple ristretto.
I've had some questions about that last thing, and have even been asked to make a triple ristretto from my humble two-group head espresso bar at Soleil, but the fact remains that a triple ristretto is a product of the correct tools, which most coffeeshops, especially those in the Midwest, simply do not have.
The idea behind a triple ristretto is simple: Higher dosing of coffee (triple dose), pulling ristretto, producing a shot about the size of a double. It is not a double shot enhanced with another single shot (from a split double) to make a triple. This is the only way to make a triple with a standard double basket portafilter, but, as I've said before, I don't believe in triple shots from a double machine: Double is standard.
The way to get a triple shot then is to switch from a double basket to a triple basket. The filter basket is replaced with one that holds enough espresso grounds to pull three ounces of espresso, then the shot is pulled ristretto. Bingo: a delicious ristretto shot without losing any of the volume.
The idea of upping the dosage for an espresso has been going on in specific circles for the past few years, and for a number of espresso bars in New York City this is the default.
In my mind, it should be up to the coffeeshop, or at least the barista, to produce the most delicious beverage possible. Small menus, fewer customer choices have long been accepted in fine dining restaurants, where the chef or waitstaff is expected to cook the dish the best way possible (save for certain exceptions, of course), and pair flavors, sauces, wines. The trend for a lot of coffeeshops, however, has been to beef up the menu with a huge variety of coffee beverages with clever names, usually based around sweeteners and syrups. Rather than featuring the flavor of actual coffee (!), and perfecting the techniques to produce the best coffee flavor in espresso, they are relying on endless ways to flatten coffee flavor with sugar and milk.
What I found at most of these NYC espresso bars is the ideal: small menus, featuring espresso, macchiato, and (the traditional) cappuccino. The idea is to the coffee stand for itself. Most places don't even do the old single/double thing, which to me is a godsend. Splitting shots is like using skim milk, or ordering a half-caf... don't do it!
I've had some questions about that last thing, and have even been asked to make a triple ristretto from my humble two-group head espresso bar at Soleil, but the fact remains that a triple ristretto is a product of the correct tools, which most coffeeshops, especially those in the Midwest, simply do not have.
The idea behind a triple ristretto is simple: Higher dosing of coffee (triple dose), pulling ristretto, producing a shot about the size of a double. It is not a double shot enhanced with another single shot (from a split double) to make a triple. This is the only way to make a triple with a standard double basket portafilter, but, as I've said before, I don't believe in triple shots from a double machine: Double is standard.
The way to get a triple shot then is to switch from a double basket to a triple basket. The filter basket is replaced with one that holds enough espresso grounds to pull three ounces of espresso, then the shot is pulled ristretto. Bingo: a delicious ristretto shot without losing any of the volume.
The idea of upping the dosage for an espresso has been going on in specific circles for the past few years, and for a number of espresso bars in New York City this is the default.
In my mind, it should be up to the coffeeshop, or at least the barista, to produce the most delicious beverage possible. Small menus, fewer customer choices have long been accepted in fine dining restaurants, where the chef or waitstaff is expected to cook the dish the best way possible (save for certain exceptions, of course), and pair flavors, sauces, wines. The trend for a lot of coffeeshops, however, has been to beef up the menu with a huge variety of coffee beverages with clever names, usually based around sweeteners and syrups. Rather than featuring the flavor of actual coffee (!), and perfecting the techniques to produce the best coffee flavor in espresso, they are relying on endless ways to flatten coffee flavor with sugar and milk.
What I found at most of these NYC espresso bars is the ideal: small menus, featuring espresso, macchiato, and (the traditional) cappuccino. The idea is to the coffee stand for itself. Most places don't even do the old single/double thing, which to me is a godsend. Splitting shots is like using skim milk, or ordering a half-caf... don't do it!
March 12, 2007
Don't Call It A...
A woman has been coming into the Cafe recently ordering espresso, with "a little steamed half and half." When I first heard the order, I was like, "Oh, a macchiato breve!" The woman was uninterested in my name determination, shrugging it off and saying, "Well, whatever you call it..."
I don't know if she just didn't want a lot of attention created, or just wanted to save the few cents with the espresso price, but I think the big issue at play here is the misconception of what I consider the greatest expression of a coffee bean: The Macchiato.
Maybe this woman has ordered a macchiato, or seen someone order one, only to have the barista produce a curious bitter-espresso-and-mound-of-dry-foam concoction that is mostly undrinkable. If this is the case, I can see why someone would not want to order one, and would ask for espresso with milk (or half and half). Actually, if I am at a cafe I know to have amateur baristas without the knowledge or skill of proper frothing techniques, I order an espresso rather than a macchiato, and usually add cold milk from the condiment table.
The most important thing I will tell someone when discussing milk frothing and cappuccinos or macchiatos is to not think about milk and foam as separate entities. Sure, they are not the same thing, but they should not be separate. The texture of your milk should be as homogenous as possible, with the "foam," which is aerated milk, worked into the entire mass. The milk should then be poured, with the ratio of foam-to-milk (which constitutes the "dryness") determining how thick the foam pours in the milk. Thus, if your "foam" can't be poured, don't add it to the espresso with a spoon! You are at this point ruining the texture, and only aiding the separation of milk and foam--which of course happens naturally in time.
How do you keep the milk and foam from separating? By using the two most important and under-utilized steps in the barista book: compacting and swirling. After frothing, I like to give the milk a chance to settle and breathe a bit, so often I will froth first and pull the shot second (NOTE: For a latte I do the opposite). Then I stomp the pitcher down on the counter to compact the milk, which also helps to break the larger bubbles. I alternate this with vigorous swirls, by keeping one side of the pitcher to the counter and circling tightly until I see the milk moving as a homogenous liquid. When the milk is ready to pour, it should have a glossy sheen on top, and resemble wet paint. If the milk wasn't stretched properly, no amount of compacting and swirling will save it, but it may be able to recover some bad takes.
A friend of mine who used to work as a barista in town said he thought the macchiato was a purpose-less drink. That it was just espresso with a froufy garnish. This is the wrong way to think about a macchiato. If you are using the milk simply as a garnish and not to enhance the flavor and texture of the espresso, of course it is purpose-less. But if you pour your thick, smooth foam into the espresso, you can soften sharp tones in the coffee, and the caramelized milk sugars from the frothing process will help bring out the natural sweetness in the coffee.
The espresso we serve at Cafe Soleil is very darkly roasted with a deep robust flavor, and I find it a tad harsh straight-up. That's why I always drink it macchiato, and recommend it that way to other espresso drinkers. However, with a lighter bodied roast, sometimes the full coffee flavor that espresso affords can get lost in a wet pour of a macchiato, which is why I ordered my espresso proper (though ristretto) at Ancora Coffee this morning. Oh, and the woman at my shop: She asked for a "macchiato with half and half" the last time she was in.
I don't know if she just didn't want a lot of attention created, or just wanted to save the few cents with the espresso price, but I think the big issue at play here is the misconception of what I consider the greatest expression of a coffee bean: The Macchiato.
Maybe this woman has ordered a macchiato, or seen someone order one, only to have the barista produce a curious bitter-espresso-and-mound-of-dry-foam concoction that is mostly undrinkable. If this is the case, I can see why someone would not want to order one, and would ask for espresso with milk (or half and half). Actually, if I am at a cafe I know to have amateur baristas without the knowledge or skill of proper frothing techniques, I order an espresso rather than a macchiato, and usually add cold milk from the condiment table.
The most important thing I will tell someone when discussing milk frothing and cappuccinos or macchiatos is to not think about milk and foam as separate entities. Sure, they are not the same thing, but they should not be separate. The texture of your milk should be as homogenous as possible, with the "foam," which is aerated milk, worked into the entire mass. The milk should then be poured, with the ratio of foam-to-milk (which constitutes the "dryness") determining how thick the foam pours in the milk. Thus, if your "foam" can't be poured, don't add it to the espresso with a spoon! You are at this point ruining the texture, and only aiding the separation of milk and foam--which of course happens naturally in time.
How do you keep the milk and foam from separating? By using the two most important and under-utilized steps in the barista book: compacting and swirling. After frothing, I like to give the milk a chance to settle and breathe a bit, so often I will froth first and pull the shot second (NOTE: For a latte I do the opposite). Then I stomp the pitcher down on the counter to compact the milk, which also helps to break the larger bubbles. I alternate this with vigorous swirls, by keeping one side of the pitcher to the counter and circling tightly until I see the milk moving as a homogenous liquid. When the milk is ready to pour, it should have a glossy sheen on top, and resemble wet paint. If the milk wasn't stretched properly, no amount of compacting and swirling will save it, but it may be able to recover some bad takes.
A friend of mine who used to work as a barista in town said he thought the macchiato was a purpose-less drink. That it was just espresso with a froufy garnish. This is the wrong way to think about a macchiato. If you are using the milk simply as a garnish and not to enhance the flavor and texture of the espresso, of course it is purpose-less. But if you pour your thick, smooth foam into the espresso, you can soften sharp tones in the coffee, and the caramelized milk sugars from the frothing process will help bring out the natural sweetness in the coffee.
The espresso we serve at Cafe Soleil is very darkly roasted with a deep robust flavor, and I find it a tad harsh straight-up. That's why I always drink it macchiato, and recommend it that way to other espresso drinkers. However, with a lighter bodied roast, sometimes the full coffee flavor that espresso affords can get lost in a wet pour of a macchiato, which is why I ordered my espresso proper (though ristretto) at Ancora Coffee this morning. Oh, and the woman at my shop: She asked for a "macchiato with half and half" the last time she was in.
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