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.