My dad tells a “funny” story about how he innocently booked a holiday to San Antonio in Ibiza. With my step-mum and brother and sister. The kids must have been somewhere between 4-7 at the time. 25 years ago.
One minute they were playing happy families on the beach. Next minute, the kids had wandered in to a foam party at the edge of a bar, in one of clubbing’s most notorious hot spots for daytime after-parties.
The kids loved it, the punters laughed – happy days all round.
I thought about that as I looked at the top of my coffee this morning. At the micro-foam blending with the coffee in the mug.
That how I don’t currently have access to a camera on my phone, so I couldn’t tweet @CoffeeRorschach my latest creation. Something that looked a bit like an aroused bear, sat on its backside.
Which then made me pause to reflect on the bizarre way we seem to care about what the top of a coffee looks like. Where more often than not, the top is then covered by a biodegradable lid. Swilled around as we walk and drink. Lost to the memory – if you ever saw it, that is.
In Italy – yes, these post regularly bring us back to Italy – it’s just a big dollop of foam. A white cloud atop the brown sea below.
I think I prefer it that way. No dying swans. No tulips. No overly aroused bears. Obviously there’s no fun in that, but with a decent steam wand and a steady hand – who can’t produce a white cloud or two?