The Art of Cappuccino and the Art of making money

Today I am pondering this wonderful creation, the cappuccino. A cappuccino will cost you anything between 55p in asincerely dreadful vending machine at Doncaster train station (theseare the lengths I go to under the name of research - or possiblycaffeine addiction) to the £2.65 Grande-mug-with-extra-shot at CaffeNero. (I would quote Starbucks prices but haven't yet swallowed mypride enough to dare go in there). I will cover why I need an extrashot in Nero's coffee later.


I recently spent happy afternoon being instructed in how to make the perfect coffee at a rather obscure little factory in Blaydon in the outskirts of Newcastle. They have been importing, roastingand selling coffee from there since 1750, and are now running Baristatraining courses. This is because, as our instructor tells us,he hates seeing all the hard work that so many different people putinto to producing the coffee, ruined at the last minute by untrained,or often plain lazy baristas. The commodity chains involved inproducing a cappuccino are infinitely long, and necessarily global. Thecoffee growers, graders, buyers, shippers and importers, roasters,packagers, marketers, salesmen, distributors, and coffee shop managers;not to mention the dairy farmers, people who pasturise milk, bottlingfactory workers, health and safety regulators, supermarket or dairybuyers and even milkmen have all had some involvement in yourcappuccino, then there is the designers of the espresso machine, themaintenance man who adjusts it for you, the cardboard cupmanufacturers, brand designers and so on, have all contributedsomething too. And then a bored, underpaid, dispassionate and usuallypart time barista, screws it up. And still charges you £2 for theprivilege.

Throughout the afternoon, we are taught how to make an excellentespresso base (and even with a fully functional espresso machine andperfect ingredients and equipment, it can still go wrong very easily.)You then froth milk - and this is equally as important and as skilledas making the espresso. I'm sure everyone on here knows how to do this perfectly, I still appreciated being taught! For record, not only do these coffees look great, they taste fantastic.So, if given the opportunity to train, why aren't all cappuccinos likethis? Where I used to work, at the Voodoo Cafe, (an independent andvery unique place!) we took the time to learn properly, and althoughours were never that pretty to look at, we invested in very high gradeluxury coffees and then practiced making them properly. We had a wholerange of different coffees to try; different espresso bases indifferent varieties of coffee. We also tried to keep the pricescompetitive. Our 12-ounce cappuccinos were £1.50. Even taking intoaccount my bias, compared to the competition we made some of the bestcoffees in town.

Comparethis to life at Caffe Nero. Nero is a big brand. It is the 20th fastestgrowing company in the whole of Europe, and currently has over 330stores in Britain. And every single one is identical. This means thatwhichever store you go into from Brighton to Glasgow, you know thatthere will be brown leather armchairs, little circular tables, thecoffee bar usually in the middle, a fridge full of cakes (the samecakes...) the same rather dated pictures on the walls, and even thesame music playing at the same time of day in each store. You will alsoknow the prices are the same throughout the country with the exceptionof those in central London and at airports, and that your loyalty cardwill work anywhere. If you pay attention you will notice that the staffwill even say more or less the same things to you; the Six ServiceSteps we are all obliged to follow. You will be very familiar with theNero logo, which is plastered all over each store, all over your cups,plates and bowls, the take-out cups, the take-out sleeves to stop youburning your fingers on the take-out cups, the take-out bags, thet-shirts of all the staff, the retail bags of coffee, containing thesecret Nero Blend, all the cake wrappers and sandwich boxes, and evenon the napkins.

The other thing that is identical in every Caffe Nero is the coffee -supposedly. Each new employee has to undergo "weeks of intensivetraining before being allowed to serve an espresso" (from theirpromotional leaflets). However, this intensive training does notinclude actually tasting the coffee. We are taught that if the rightamount of ground coffee goes into the handles, and it pours for thecorrect length of time (a full ten seconds less than Pumphreysrecommend), and it has a good crema on the top, then it is a goodespresso and can be served. This is not a good argument however,because espressos can look very good but still taste awful. In myexperience at Nero, I am in the minority because I actually drink thecoffee there. Most do not touch the stuff.
With an not-so-greatespresso base, the next step is the milk. In Nero, this is heated to 60degrees centigrade/ 140 farenheit. We pump a lot of hot air into it,until in separates, with thin but very hot milk on the bottom, and araft of thick, dry foam floating on the top.
From this, thecappuccino is made, to the Nero Way: 1/3 espresso, 1/3 hot milk, 1/3foam. The foam is occasionally so thick it has to be spooned into thecup. It is then topped up with the hot milk until the foam bulges outof the top of the mug, in the trademark dome shape Nero prides itselfon. Think muffin tops. I always ask for an extra espresso shot, becausewith this level of milk, it is often not possible to taste the coffeeat all.
If the cappuccino does not look right, we are not allowed toserve it. I have actually had someone complain that she did not haveenough froth on her cappuccino and I had to make her another one,heated even higher and with even drier foam. By this time, even I couldsmell that the milk was burnt, but this is what she wanted.

Overheatingthe milk is a cultural phenomenon, it seems. Try as we might, in thiscountry we are still very much tea drinkers. When we drink tea, we makeit with boiled water, then sit, chat and stir it until it is coolenough to drink. When we make coffee, we expect it to behave the sameway. But it doesn't. Tea needs the heat to infuse properly. Burning thecoffee by brewing espresso at too hot a temperature makes itunplesantly bitter and metallic tasting. Heating the milk until isseparates for a Nero cappuccino makes it smell of baby sick (yes, Ihave been able to test and research this claim as well recently) andlose its natural sweetness as well. Cappuccinos made at 50-55 degreescentigrade - which is the optimum temperature for both espresso andmilk - is designed to be drunk as soon as it is made. Of course it goescold quickly, but better that than burning it?

As I've alreadypointed out, Caffe Nero is a success story, it claimed record profitsthis year and has made a serious amount of money, very quickly, and allapparently by creating generic stores selling underextracted espressoand burnt milk drinks. But there is no denying that they "look" likegood cappuccinos. Large chain and branded coffee have created thisimage of what an ideal coffee looks like in the UK, and if anythingdeviates from this, customers will not recognise it, and it will notsell, even if it tastes better.Which is what may have been happening at our independent cafe. For allthe authenticity Caffe Nero claims: "The best espresso this side ofMilan" for instance, or "A True Italian Coffee" they are still buyingin to, and perpetrating this ideal of image and appearance over tasteand quality. For as long as we consumers continue to buy theseimitations, nothing is going to change. Which I think is quite sadreally.

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