It's All About the Benjamins

Jump to Comments The titular phrase, “I want a cappuccino!” in Italian, has become a bit of a rallying cry for myself since returning from Europe. Maybe rallying cry isn’t the right phrase, since it’s just for one person, but I think one gets the drift. In case you are unsure, a cappucino is an Italian coffee-type drink. Definitionally, it is a couple ounces of espresso below a two roughly-equal layers of steamed milk and steamed milk foam. This is not a particularly difficult drink to make, so long as one has a commercial espresso machine. A couple weeks ago on Guy Montag I was running late to my 1800 class, and feeling rather tired. With only five minutes before the start of class, I decided to visit the Stupid Center to get some caffeinated beverage. As there was no line at the faux-Starbucks coffee stand, I went there. Sure, I knew in the back of my head that I should have just gone to Mo Rocca, but I didn’t want to be late for Ethics. So, I walk up to the cash register, and ask the cashier/barista for a ‘grande’ cappuccino. I notice, she isn’t ringing it up, but rather just staring at me. I promptly repeat my request. “Yeah, but what do you want in it?” comes a reply. “I want a cappuccino, a grande cappuccino … which includes milk, and frothed milk, in it.” “And coffee.” “Yes, obviously.” “But what flavor do you want in it?” “Just the espresso and milk flavors, please.” She then rings it up, and proceeds to take the orders of the five other people who have formed a line behind me during this rather absurd conversation. I wait intently to the side, watching her fix my drink. After pouring the espresso into the nasty plastic to-go cup, she then pours in a bunch of steam-frothed milk and proceeds to stir it up with an iced-tea spoon. Which definitionally changed the drink from a badly-made cappuccino to a badly-made caffèlatte. Now, five minutes late to class, I grudgingly take my grande doppio-espresso-mixed-with-a-pint-of-hot-milk to the McInteer. You would have seen this post the day after the experience if I hadn’t gotten a bad cold which morphed into bronchitis or something. I wonder if somehow I can blame that on Java City, too. Moral of story: si tu vorreresti un cappuccino non vai alla Java Citta. (If you want a cappuccino, don’t go to Java City.)