Coffee shops, at their best, should be safe spaces where anyone who’s anyone can sit, have a drink, and feel welcome. And, for me, music has always been an important part of that experience, both as a barista and as a customer.
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But alcohol and pop music have an easier, more straightforward relationship; beer makes you want to dance and sing, coffee just makes you want to sit and talk. Plus, most songs about booze have a melancholy edge, or at least an acknowledgement that some day (probably tomorrow) the fun has to end. There’s drama in writing about alcohol. But there’s no drama inherent in drinking coffee. It’s just pleasant.
Kyoto is a place where modernity and tradition meet in seeming harmony, at least...
]]>Turn a corner on a random city street in Kyoto, and you’re just as likely to run face-first into a classical Buddhist temple as into a five-floor shopping center. Ancient shinto shrines sit anachronistically beside rent-a-bike stations. Brilliant pink cherry blossoms are blown from their branches by the speed of passing delivery trucks. But despite the apparent contradictions, nothing feels disjointed or ungainly about this city.
During my recent trip to Kyoto, the times I treasured most were the early morning hours. These were the hours I had to myself, when I could walk the sparsely populated edges of the Kamo River in search of great coffee. I had some trouble in this regard though. Traditional Japanese coffee houses (called kissaten) open, without apparent exception, at exactly 11a.m. They’re afternoon hang-out spots, by-and-large, usually serving both coffee and a selection of teas, along with snacks and desserts.
The air is often thick with cigarette smoke. The soundtrack is smooth jazz. The average patron is, it would seem, older than fifty. To this visitor from Manhattan, kissaten bring to mind a host of deeply familiar New York establishments, while remaining uniquely Japanese. There’s a little bit of the 24-hour-diner in their DNA. Maybe a dash of jazz club. A little hookah bar. But still indescribable in full.
Practically hidden at the rear of an hourly parking lot on a largely residential block, Weekenders Coffee Tominokoji was the surprise highlight of my trip. To begin with, it’s a homey, welcoming space, so indistinguishable from a Kyoto townhouse that I accidentally trespassed upon Weekenders’ next-door neighbor on my first pass at trying to find their location (the neighbor’s guard dog kindly directed me toward the exit). Weekenders’ front door is a sliding partition. A tiny but beautifully maintained asymmetrical garden of mosses and trees welcomes you at the shop’s entrance. Employees leave their shoes at the foot of the stairs when they climb to the second floor to grind beans and prepare for cuppings.
The final coffee stop on my trip was Kurasu Kyoto, just a short walk from Kyoto Station. I popped in before boarding a train to Tokyo for my flight home to the states. Kurasu curates a rotating menu of different specialty roasts from all across Japan. They also maintain a tasteful selection of coffee brewing items and coffee-related merchandise for sale. My pour-over, roasted by Hazeru Coffee from a batch of the much-hyped Gesha varietal, was simple, sweet, and full-bodied, a satisfying end to an enlightening trip.
Time will tell whether third-wave coffee culture will take hold there in the way it has in New York, Sydney, and (I’m told) Tokyo. Perhaps the tradition of the kissaten will fade, replaced by specialty shops with sleek countertops and uncountable numbers of V60s. Or perhaps the two traditions will blend in intriguing ways, in much the same way Kyoto itself offers visitors a scintillating mixture of the old and the new.
Time will tell.
Sayonara! - Tom
You take a sip of your “macchiato”. It’s delicious. The creaminess, the caramel drizzle, the slight notes of “espresso” all come together and you chase down your bags with this newfound energy.
It’s 2 PM in the afternoon and you’ve settled down at a cozy restaurant...
]]>Dollop or pour? In this two part debate, Jenny Chiang and Justin Chong, two of Saltwater's beloved baristas, will fight to the finish to defend their views on how to make the perfect macchiato.
You have just landed in Florence, Italy. You couldn’t sleep on the plane and the local time is 9 AM. Your eyelids struggle to stay open as you try to hunt down your luggage at the baggage claim. The Starbucks mermaid is beckoning you to drink a “venti caramel macchiato” and you succumb to her lures.
You take a sip of your “macchiato”. It’s delicious. The creaminess, the caramel drizzle, the slight notes of “espresso” all come together and you chase down your bags with this newfound energy.
It’s 2 PM in the afternoon and you’ve settled down at a cozy restaurant in the town center. You finish your pasta and the waiter asks if you’d like dessert or coffee. You confidently ask for a macchiato.
The waiter brings out a small shot glass on a tiny saucer. You are confused, as this is 1/10 the size of your usual Starbucks order. You wonder why this macchiato seems to be a shot of espresso but with some foam plopped in the middle.
“Scusi, I ordered a macchiato.”
The waiter shrugs, smirks and simply says “mi dispiace!”
Nonetheless, you take a sip. The acidity and strength of the espresso makes you grimace. However, you just paid 4 euros and stomach the rest of the drink. You realize there a lot of flavors hitting your mouth at once. It’s strong, yet somehow smooth. The notes of chocolate and the texture of the foam fuse greatly for the perfect after meal drink.
You return to New York and consistently drink macchiatos, but the drink you receive is far from consistent. One place gives you something reminiscent of your trip to Italy. Another place hands you a macchiato with a glossy heart in the center of your espresso. But who is giving you the right drink?
The traditional Italian macchiato is a single shot of espresso with 1-3 teaspoons full of the foam that sits at the top of the steamed milk. However, the methodology of the macchiato has seen a shift as third wave coffee starts to become more mainstream. Some places stay true to the Italian tradition, but many places now do full double shots and instead of scooping the beautiful foam from the steamed milk, they pour the milk directly into the espresso.
The pouring of the milk may not change the ratio of milk to espresso, but it completely changes the drink’s texture. The milk is more smooth and “wet” which is more reminiscent of a Cortado. The only difference between the poured macchiato and Cortado becomes the amount of milk. However, there is only a difference of about 1-3 ounces of milk and a customer could simply request a Cortado with less milk as it is the same concept.
The main purpose of the macchiato is to experience the dryness of the foam combined with the espresso.
Baristas frequently argue between the difference of macchiatos, but rarely question the validity of the difference between the flat white and cappuccino. Baristas will give you a definitive answer at every coffee shop that a flat white has less foam and is more wet in texture.
At the end of the day we have turned the “wetter” cappuccino into its own thing and have preserved the traditional cappuccino. Baristas will be baristas and claim that third wave departs from the traditional norms of Italian coffee, which in essence is true. Full double shots have become an industry standard and have rendered the single shot obsolete, available only by request. The macchiato should stay traditional just as the cappuccino has. However, the third wave coffee industry should create a new name for the more contemporary method of pouring the macchiato. Until then, there will be a never-ending, meaningless debate over whose method of making a macchiato is correct.
Catch you on the flip side,
Justin
P.S. If you'd like to test out a dolloped macchiato at home, check out our coffee subscription service below. Use discount code "ACE" at checkout to get the first bag on the house!
However, nowadays in third wave coffee shops, you'll see something that looks like a mini-cortado that is also not quite a piccolo or a “mezzo-mezzo” (see blog post #1).
I believe this macchiato form has evolved from a traditional dollop to a more presentable creation of a macchiato.
Of course...
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Dollop or pour? In this two part debate, Jenny Chiang and Justin Chong, two of Saltwater's beloved baristas, will fight to the finish to defend their views on how to make the perfect macchiato.
Many people would say that dolloping is how we recognize a macchiato. A macchiato derives from the words, “spotted” or “marked” in Italian. It basically is a drink marked with milk. I believe that the traditional method, the dolloping, is fine…
However, nowadays in third wave coffee shops, you'll see something that looks like a mini-cortado that is also not quite a piccolo or a “mezzo-mezzo” (see blog post #1).
I believe this macchiato form has evolved from a traditional dollop to a more presentable creation of a macchiato.
Of course, it always depends on personal preference, so when someone orders a macchiato with just a dollop, you have the main component with a dry layer of foam on top. With a poured micro-foam milk, you have some mixed in foam on the top which creates a velvety layer with the crema
If the barista knows how to pour in a macchiato, 9 times out of 10 it will end up tasting pretty much like a dolloped macchiato except with just a tad bit more milk. Some people like the dolloped way and some like the pour way. The people who like the dollop mainly want an espresso with some spunk and the people who want a pour are people who want something a little different than just an espresso.
Some baristas argue against the milk pouring method of the third wave macchiato. They might say, “Why don’t you get a piccolo or a cortado instead? It’s more milk than the dolloped macchiato and less than a cappuccino.”
This is not relevant because piccolos and cortados have more milk content and is also made with ristretto shots (a restricted shot from a full double shot). The amazing part about piccolos and cortados are that they have more flavor and concentration held with the milk within the drink. A macchiato that has a pour mark usually is just a mark of milk… so the creaminess is minimal.
Although, there is a similar idea behind the dollop and the pour. Both give the regular macchiato drinker a taste of dessert within the coffee. The goal is to moderate with milk rather than overwhelm the taste of the coffee while adding a touch of sweetness.
The pour of microfoam milk adds a new perspective of the espresso and the dollop simply adorns it right on the crema. Both of these ways represent how we make macchiato’s but my biggest argument is that the pouring method is the way that we have evolved the creation of this drink.
Many places such as Blue Bottle and Joe’s coffee are pouring right into the espresso to give it that nice presentable finish. The foam from the pitcher of steamed milk is the foam itself. As the barista pours, minimal milk makes its way into the macchiato if it is being poured discreetly with velvety foam. This creates a harmony between the espresso, tinge of milk, and foam. Just the dollop on the top of the espresso is a drier and more traditional way to make it. It is a person’s right to have a dolloped macchiato if they ask the barista, but in my opinion, a poured macchiato is the way to go.
Peace out,
Jenny Chiang
P.S. If you'd like to test out a poured macchiato at home, check out our coffee subscription service below. Use discount code "ACE" at checkout to get the first bag on the house!