Coffee - Italian Cocaine

I was never a fan of coffee until I came to Italy. My only real involvement was when I needed a break from my desk and 'going for a coffee' was a convenient euphemism for 'I'm so hungover, I'm going to fall asleep on my keyboard if I don't go out and get some fresh air and caffeine'.

Most of us non-Italians use the phrase 'do you fancy a coffee?' as a way of saying, 'I fancy a break', or, 'do you want to sit down and natter for a bit?' - it doesn't even have to really involve coffee. Many's the time when I've 'gone for a coffee' and had tea. It's like using the word 'Hoover'. You may not even use an actual Hoover - but I never say 'I'm just going to do the Dyson-ing'. I may be going for a coffee, but it rarely used to mean I was actually going for a coffee.

I initially came across the culturally diverse attitude to coffee when Enrico and I first started seeing each other. These were the days when he was still trying to impress me (the very early days indeed) and would come shopping with me. We would be going for half an hour when he would invariably say 'I need to get a coffee'. This never failed to irk me - once I start shopping I am not keen on being interrupted. And my understanding of 'let's stop for a coffee' was that we sit down over a steaming mug and have a chat for half an hour. I now understand that what he was actually saying was 'help, I'm shattered already, I need an intravenous shot of caffeine and then I'll be good to go again'. In fact, Italian coffee cannot possibly be used for the purpose of time-wasting. Mainly because the least amount of coffee served in your teeny cup, the better.

You see, Italian coffee is not used for social purposes. It is more a stimulant of the masses, a little chemical pep to get you through the day. It is also used to aid digestion after a large meal. There are rarely many seats and tables in a coffee bar, as the custom when buying a coffee is to remain standing up - go in, go to the till to pay, get the receipt, take your receipt to the bar, get served your three atoms of coffee, shoot them down and leave. The whole process takes maybe five minutes, absolute maximum.

Italy is rightly famous for cappuccino, which is coffee and frothy milk - only served with cocoa dusted lightly on top if you ask for it. It is not to be taken after 11am and never before or after eating: The milk in a cappuccino precludes good digestion. Apparently. However, don't be lulled into a false sense of security by the cappuccino. The fact that there are more than three atoms of coffee in the cup does not mean that you can safely sit back and have a little pause and a chat over a hot beverage. Unless you specifically ask for it to be served hot, it will be served tepid and frequently even if you ask it makes little difference. It will most likely be warm, at best. I am maybe more of a stickler for this than most as I have what is medically known as an 'asbestos mouth' and I am not happy unless my drink, if it is supposed to be hot, is boiling hot. A tepid cup of coffee is just not acceptable to me, however here this is how it is served in order to be gulped down in a matter of seconds. Ask for 'bollente' and you will be served a nice hot cup of coffee. Probably...

I have really taken to Italian coffee though, and we have a Nespresso coffee machine which is probably the most used electrical gadget in the house. It helps that I don't have to go through the ritual of making the traditional coffee on the stove, the Nespresso working with capsules and the touch of a button. But this is also because I now appreciate the 'pick-me-up' abilities of a little shot of caffeine-charged coffee and I have to say that I am hooked.

Actually, an Italian espresso has less caffeine in it than an 'Americano' - what most of us would think of as a coffee, i.e. brown-coloured cup of hot water with some milk in it. The theory is that this is because the coffee grounds are steeped longer in the water so pick up more of the caffeine. Whatever, call me a coffee snob, but I know I will never be able to go back to what I used to think was coffee - boiling water poured onto crinkling brown powder from a jar. Maybe this was actually the reason I never liked coffee much in the first place.

I am not ashamed to say that I have totally 'gone native' where coffee is concerned. Once we step outside Italy, I am right beside Enrico criticising, rolling our eyes in smug despair, when we are handed a 4cm full espresso cup. 'Tchsk,' he says 'I asked for a LEETLE coffee', 'bleurgh', I say in sympathy. Us addicts need the good stuff.