Caffeine Addict

Coffee around the World

USA

They call coffee “Finnish plasma,” therefore, it must be in my blood. I remember being a little girl and staring in fascination at my dad’s morning mug, wondering when I’d be old enough to drink it. When my parents let me have my own cup of coffee, I was stubborn enough to forego milk and sugar and drink it black, just like my dad.

I became a barista just after turning 17, and I spent the next three years of life honing my coffee snobbery to a fine point. It helped having been raised in the Pacific Northwest, birthplace to Starbucks and all its caffeine competitors. My parents owned an independent coffee shop for awhile, and they sold beans from a micro-roaster in Boise, ID, whose personal mission was to make sure the quality of their coffee matched their quality of service. Dawson Taylor has the best coffee I’ve ever tasted in this country. The end.

One thing I’ve discovered while exploring is that no matter the prevalence of coffee in a nation’s culture, it will probably never reach the to-go paper cup status it is in America. Everywhere else I’ve been, even if they don’t drink that much of it, it’s usually a sit-down affair.

ITALY

Haven’t spent that much time in Italy (yet), but espresso bars make my heart go pitter-pat. In the train station in Milan, men in pin-striped business suits stood around the espresso bar counters, ignoring their morning newspapers and the pigeons flapping overhead under the lofty ceiling, gesticulating and chattering and sipping delicately out of tiny white cups full of rich, dark deliciousness.

On the train, a man in an apron pushed a cappuccino cart up and down the narrow aisle, I tested my barista (pronounced bah-ree-sta, none of that short I business) lingo on him because I was desperate for a caffeine fix. It worked! However, should you find yourself attempting rail travel in Italy, go to the train station espresso bars. The coffee is much better.

NETHERLANDS

I love Holland. I spent a few days in Amsterdam and then wandered up north to visit a friend and spend several rather glorious days with her. In my experience, Dutch hospitality is “would you like something to drink?” upon moments of meeting. If it’s after 11am, this means beer. If it’s still morning, it means cappuccino. Cappuccino is a rather loose term here, unlike Italian beverages of mostly espresso and milk foam, Dutch cappuccinos are more like an American latte. Served in a huge cup with plenty of raw sugar to stir in, they are one of the best reasons to go out in grey, drizzly mornings. Sometimes you even get a koekje.

Note: Dutch purveyors of delightful caffeinated beverages should not be confused with the more distinctive "coffee shops", distinguishable in passing by the delicate aroma of marijuana lingering oppressively in the air.

ENGLAND

I just drank tea. And beer and cider. : )

FRANCE

While I drank quite a lot of coffee in France, I suspect my hosts took pity on me and mostly just made it for me. The French have all the fancy liqueurs to put it, though. My favorite was served at the wedding I attended. At first, the waiters came around with their fancy little pots and tiny paper tubes of sugar. They caught on quickly though, and soon brought out the big one. I was seated at a table full of young adults, furthest from the kitchen, and we were seeking a solution to the wine we’d already consumed and we were getting ready to dance the night away. It was bitter, hot and pungent. It was perfect.

NEW ZEALAND

I don’t remember how much coffee the Kiwis consume, or what’s special about theirs, apart from my first morning in New Zealand. We were taken to a McDonalds Café for breakfast (who said anything about trying new things??) where there was plenty of American-style breakfast pastries and latte. Later on the trip, my friend Mel and I found a tiny walk-up coffee cart in a small town on the North Island called Bulls. It was just like an average American drive-thru coffee shop, but much tinier, and they sold apricot fudge. I think the coffee was pretty good. Honestly, I think by that point my caffeine withdrawals were just happy to be soothed (my professor kept trying to feed me instant coffee *le sigh*).

I’ve also tried the tiny cupfuls of Colombian coffee that are so rich and dark it’s like drinking syrup. I can’t wait to go to Finland to check out the coffee and sauna culture there… my dad, grandfather and uncle went to visit family there a couple of years ago.

And my dirty little secret… Dunkin’ Donuts French vanilla coffee with milk and sugar got me through my year of college in Boston. What can I say? It was only a dollar and change, and the store was open all night. I think happy though when I get to the baggage claim at Logan airport and I can smell it. Don't judge.

Cheers all, and have a cuppa. Of the good stuff.

Also, if you miss me, check out my other corner of the web in which I rant about being a nursing student. ;)

*First two images courtesy of Google.

the taste of summer

While Britta and I were in France this summer, many things were offered to us flavored with sirop.

Water.

Beer.

Panaché (beer mixed with lemonade).

Pretty much anything liquid. Doesn't matter.

Lots of flavors, too. I liked blood orange the best. Strawberry was also good.

I came home and started wondering why we don't do that. After all, the water tastes much better after you drag it around for a few hours in the heat than it might without the sirop.

So, now I make ginger syrup. It's not the same, but it tastes fabulous in milk and is a great cocktail mixer. I got the recipe from an Asian food cookbook and it's super easy and keeps forever. It's just simple syrup with a kick, really.


1 cup water
1 cup sugar
2/3 cup roughly chopped, unpeeled fresh ginger

Put it all in a pot, stir, bring to a boil. Reduce heat and let simmer for 15-20 minutes or until slightly thickened.


I keep mine in a glass bottle in the fridge. It's delicious. I think I'm going to go have some right now.

Obviously France is full of deliciousness.

Please note that the escargot are wearing tiny hats.

Things that make you question your own sanity

You know how some people are very particular about the over/under placement of the free end of the toilet roll? Take Mel, for example. I'm not very territorial about the powder room, myself, but my vote is with the over group. Not that it matters.

Now in France, they dispense with all debate and provide a very specific picture tutorial on the toilet roll holder. If the picture isn't clear enough, all you silly Americans who spool it backwards at home, it says "yes" under the proper way and "no" under the wrong way.

TP tutorial in the can in Cannes

To be fair, I found this in Cannes, where they obviously experience high volumes of Hollywood traffic every year and some of those people clearly aren't to be trusted with simple verbal instructions.

In Paris, we saw this crustacean street tile art. What, pray tell, is the meaning of "I crab Paris"?

Oh yeah? Well, I <3 crab cakes!

The world may never know.

Les Chats de France

Cats live the good life in France... or at least, they do in Angers. In America, cats are mostly indoor pets, but their very nature makes them so much more entertaining in public than dogs.

This cat was scoping out the street foot traffic from perch on a second-floor balcony. I imagine he waited for an unassuming prospect aimlessly wandering down the sidewalk, then pounced like a furry ninja from on high. Fight to the death and all. Either that or he dropped his lunch.

High dive kitty contemplates the plunge

We also saw more than one person walking around town with their kitty on a leash, or perched on their shoulder like a pirate with an alibi for their secret catnip habit.

Fur epaulet

If taking your cat out on walks and letting them people-watch isn't enough, by all means, buy them some kitty-drugs. My cat's personal highly annoying habit is eating vegetation... potted plants, bouquets in vases, dried flowers and grass. When she sees this picture she'll probably kill me in my sleep for not hooking her up with a pot.

I think the hostile cartoon kitty on the pot inserts adds a special touch.

I think our strangest animal encounter goes to the camels in the château moat, however.

Even the French drink boxed wine.

And whiskey.