Of coffee, reputations and the joy of espresso

Now if you grew up in the 1950s coffee was still something that “other people” drank and when it was served usually came as a light brown milky substance which was as weak as it was insipid.

Espreeso at the station

Of course there was Camp coffee which was a totally different experience but did nothing for an appreciation of the real thing.

And nor did  those coffee bars of the 1960s with their cups of the frothy stuff or the profusion of instant and powered brands.

All of which I suspect feeds that prejudice amongst many North Americans that coffee is best drunk west of the  New England and Newfoundland coasts.

But all things change.  The revolution in what we eat and drank in Britain which began with the end of post war rationing, growing prosperity and the influence of people like Elizabeth David have transformed the scene.

For me the first hint of that magic came with the Polish couple who lived in our house in 1956 and ground their own coffee which they often served with those dark chocolate covered cinnamon biscuits

That said it would be decades before I really came to understand that love affair of the coffee bean and it came when I first began regularly visiting Italy and experienced the joy of standing in a bar taking a small cup of espresso.

For our Italian family it doesn’t come simpler and better than that.

Sometimes they will have a large milky version but it will only be drunk for breakfast and never again for the rest of the day.

And I now begin the day with an espresso, without milk or sugar, the perfect start to the day followed by another half an hour later and then no more.

Coffee, for me is best drunk first thing in the morning, in small shots and because I am now very picky I don’t often bother with coffee shops during the day.

But there are some fine ones, many of which are independents with a love of offering up some fantastic coffee.

And the point of the story?  

Well apart from the sheer joy of the stuff it is I suppose that historical journey we have undertaken from a post war Britain where food was nutritious but boring and still limited to what we have today but which sits against food banks, the worry about the amount of sugar in our diet and the quality of food produced by factory methods.

Which in turn I suppose can be contrasted with the wholesale adulteration of many foodstuffs in the Victorian period.

Nuff said

Location; our kitchen

Pictures; the bar on Viareggio, 2010 and the most regular Italian brands to cross the front door.