Monday, March 18, 2013
At Abuela’s Kitchen, a newly opened Cuban restaurant on Lincoln Road — Miami’s crowded and eclectic outdoor shopping mall — the women at the counter greet sólo en español. Since I don’t know much Spanish, I stick to what I do know: coffee. “Cortadito, please,” I ordered on a breezy Friday morning. “Non!” the waitress countered, shaking her head. “Too small. You want a cafe con leche — very strong and good.” It was early, and Cubans, like Italians, drink their heavy milk drinks in the early hours of the day.
Cubans are one of the many cultures that make up the multifaceted community of Miami, and the influence on the culture is unmistakable. Walking around Miami Beach often feels like wandering through foreign streets, from Brazil to Paris, Haiti to Cuba; as one Colombian immigrant told me, “Everyone in Miami is from somewhere else.” While I’m sure Miami natives exist, the city’s strong Latin presence is evident in Miami’s coffee scene. In nearly every cafe, one will see a café cubano on the menu.
A café cubano is a shot of espresso, often made with Bustelo beans, pulled with sugar, or sometimes, poured over sugar. The sugar caramelizes and turns into a kind of syrup, creating the notable sweetness Cuban coffee is adored for. Bustelo beans are darkly roasted, so the sugar is never overpowering because the undercurrent of the coffee is so strong.
A café con leche is one part café cubano, two parts steamed milk. Often, condensed milk is used, creating an extra sweet treat.
Finally, a cortadito is the perfect blend of the two. It is a Cuban version of the macchiato: a potent shot of Bustelo, laced with sugar and a drop of steamed milk.
Cuban coffee is engrained in Miami culture. Gazing at the crowd huddled around the the outdoor window at Abuela’s, it’s full of locals, tourists, Latinos, Haitians, and Europeans alike: a snapshot of Miami, all drinking a café cubano.
Monday, October 29, 2012
As I settled into the cold iron seat resting lopsided on the uneven sidewalk, I sighed heavily — a release of the stresses from travel mixed with the exhilaration of my first morning in Paris. I love mornings everywhere, in any city. There’s always a quiet buzz, a certain energy still anchored by sleepiness. It’s a transition period; we are waking from our slumber, adjusting to the bright light of the sun, breathing in air consciously and deliberately. I hadn’t spoken French in a few years, and anxiety crept in as the waitress approached my tiny bistro table. “Que préférez-vous, mademoiselle??” she asked. “Un cafe crème, s’il vous-plaît,” I replied, hoping my American accent wasn’t obvious.
The sidewalk café in Paris is a universal meeting place. Found on nearly every street corner, sometimes three or four in a row are adjoined, all equally boisterous, full of tourists and locals. The only criteria, it seems, is that there’s a table available. People are seldom alone (though there are few single patrons, like me), and the entire experience is intimate. The tables are mere inches apart from each other, the groups sit closely, leaning in, lost in conversation.
The café is literally part of the sidewalk, one feels connected to the rhythm of the city. Tables litter the path of pedestrians: people walking to and from somewhere, entering and exiting the metro, in and out of the cafe. Though transient — new patrons fill freshly opened tables immediately — the cafe is a place where one may stay for an hour, longer. There is no rush, no limit to the conversation, no haste in time spent with those accompanying you.
As a writer who seeks good coffee for a living, and relishes her morning coffee the most, I found this cafe experience to be a conundrum. The time spent was rich and rewarding, yet the coffee, far from. I expected this, as I’ve been to Paris before. And I’ve talked to many Parisians who acknowledge this, too. The coffee in Paris simply isn’t very good. Most brew low-grade beans, usually ground days — perhaps weeks — before, prepared in automatic machines.
Recently, a handful of specialty coffee shops have popped up in Paris. Skilled baristas, quality roasted coffee, and beautifully designed spaces are growing, connecting those who love coffee in one of the most culinary cities in the world. Yet as soon as my plane lands in Paris, all I can think of is sitting at a sidewalk café, notebook in hand, and a cup of bad coffee on the table.
Paris is where many of my favorite writers drew inspiration before me, and Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and Baldwin all wrote at cafés still standing today (perhaps nursing a cafe crème, I imagine). Rarely, one’s environment may outweigh good coffee; in this case, it’s the people that occupy the iron seats, past and present, who truly have my attention.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Located on a Rue Villedon, a tiny side street near Le Palais Royal, owners Nicolas Clerc and David Flynn came together in hopes of revolutionizing the Paris coffee scene. Nicolas, a photographer, fell into the coffee business when asked to photograph for an article about coffee in Paris. “At the time I didn’t know there was any interest in coffee,” Nicolas explained. “When I understood what it was about, and how amazing it could taste, it quickly became an addiction, and a passion.”
“Paris was drastically missing a coffee shop the way we intended it,” Nicolas told me as he prepared my coffee on a beautiful fall day in Paris. And their intention is arguably modern and minimalist. The space is tiny, white and airy. The palate of sky blue and white creates a peaceful energy.
Friday, June 15, 2012
This bar, located upstairs from the Blue Bottle Cafe in Chelsea, is a romantic little space to have a full siphon-coffee experience. Designed for those with time on their hands, since the brewing method is not speedy, and an affinity for the technicalities of coffee making.
Monday, April 2, 2012
More known for its soaring architecture than the art it houses, the Jepson Center in Savannah is a physical manifestation of the contemporary climate of the city: simultaneously artistic, modern, southern and traditional.
White, airy, full of light and undulations, the Jepson is part of a trio of museums overlooking Telfair Square. The Jepson is, of course, the most modern; built in 2007 and designed by architect Moshe Safdie, it showcases contemporary art while the Telfair Academy and Owens-Thomas House are historical examples of early American art and architecture. The center’s open design does not intrude upon the historical block, its’ white facade and large windows make it nearly transparent.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Traditional Italian spaces center around the bar — no tables, no chairs, just a bar. It’s more of a place to pause rather than linger. Zibetto is a perfect, modern bar with stylized lines in white tones. It reminds me of a very mid-century modern New York space, even the near-perfect, symmetrical designs in the cappuccinos — as well as the thick gradation of crema color in the espresso — seem to blend in with the surroundings.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Rome, Italy is often my answer to the daunting question: What’s your favorite city? The raw nature of the city and the energy it emits provokes a certain freedom; Romans live connected to their city, fully present to each day. They live slow and with meaning. They share food in a similar way — connected to the food, ingredients, and tastes, but most importantly, to those with whom they share the meal.
When I visit Rome, dining is at the center of my travels as well as coffee, and here is a list of my favorite places I found and returned to this year.
FOR PANINI: Forno, Campo dei Fiori.
These panini are heavenly — the bread is thin and salted, and the meats are perfectly cured. These sandwiches are simple, usually made of only two or three ingredients. My favorite is the Bresaola — salted beef cured for months — with fresh arugula and parmigiano cheese. A Roman tradition, Forno has been at the corner of Campo dei Fiori for over thirty years, a true testament to the fact that one doesn’t need all the fixings to create something delicious — just a few ingredients, prepared perfectly.
FOR CAPPUCCINO: Il Caffe Sant’Eustachio, Piazza Sant’Eustachio.
There is nothing like sitting at a cafe table outside Caffe Sant’Eustachio, with a mix of tourists and locals, drinking espresso and cappuccinos, watching as Italians on vespas, bikes, and stilettos saunter by. Sant’Eustachio has been roasting coffee for nearly 74 years. Their gran caffe, a thick double espresso served with an insane crema, is famous — a secret way of pulling the shots, their baristas will not divulge this method to anyone.
FOR VINO: Vino Olio, Via dei Banchi Vecchi.
This charming wine bar is cozy and friendly, packed each night with lots of locals enticed by vintage wines and amazing cheese selections. Sometimes, the fun can spill out onto the cobble stone street, patrons with wine glasses in hand, lounging on parked vespas. If you catch the aperatif crowd around five, it is a bit quieter, providing an intimate, relaxed candlelit environment. It’s a perfect place to allow the sommelier to introduce you to the wonderful wines of Italy.
FOR SWEETS: Il Fornaio, Via dei Baullari (off of Campo dei Fiori).
Il Fornaio is what I imagine the land of sweets from the Nutcracker to be like. The small, take-away shop is full of homemade cookies, cakes, tarts, cornetti, bread, candy, and even some savory pizzas. I love their Neapolitan cake, and the crostatine filled with fruits.
BEST HOMEMADE PASTA: Lucifero, Via dei Cappellari.
Walking into Lucifero is like visiting a friend’s home for dinner. Lelo, the robust owner, will greet you at the door, learn your name, and converse with you for hours as you enjoy his food. There are two pasta specials each day, made fresh that morning, and the house antipasti of marinated vegetables, meats and cheeses is one of my favorite dishes in this world. It’s a relaxed, unpretentious environment with checkered tablecloths and old wooden beams, and it’s always delicious. Lelo and his family will make you feel like one of their own, and you will leave full, drunk, and happy.
FOR FINE DINING: Pierluigi, Piazza dé Ricci
One of the best pastas of my life: the rigatoni with lobster from Pierluigi.
Need I say more? It’s gorgeous, the staff is charming and sweet, and it somehow remains upscale without pretense. Some of the freshest seafood in town, one can peruse the chilled fish and choose the one that looks best — they’ll even show you the squirming lobster table side before preparing your dish. End the meal with pastiera, a traditional Neapolitan cake made with ricotta, orange flower water, and candied fruit; It’s truly one of the most beautiful dining experiences one can have in Rome.
FOR SFOGLIATELLE: Pasticceria Bernasconi, Piazza B. Cairoli.
One might fail to notice this ancient pasticceria, as I somehow did on my many walks past the bakery and cafe. They are best known for their sfogliatelle, pastries made of flaky, shell-shaped crust, filled with orange-flavored ricotta; a laborious feat, sfogliatelle require skilled hands shaping the dough to resemble a fan. Bernasconi (rhymes with the not-so-liked former president, Berlusconi) also makes homemade cakes and torrone, a fluffy candy of nougat and pistachios. Good luck snagging the single table outside; otherwise, it’s standing room only.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
One of the earliest European cafes, Caffe Florian, opened in Venice in 1774. Hundreds of years later, in 2006, a sister cafe opened in Florence; less grandiose in nature, the space is more modern, on beautiful Via del Parione.
But the most beautiful part of the cafe pays homage to Italy’s coffee roots, featuring a traditional drip coffee: an old copper apparatus similar to a pour over.
The gorgeous copper filter sits atop the Caffe Florian embellished cup; it is served with a pitcher of boiled water, and finely ground coffee already measured out into the filter. One simply pours the water over the grounds to taste (remember, it’s only meant to produce a tiny cup). The drip is slow, but it creates a small, strong espresso.