What on earth could LOST possibly have to do with the way we think about coffee? One of the important things I felt the ending of the show did was to suggest that our questions about its mysteries can only be adequately solved by rethinking them as questions about epistemology. At the point where fixed explanations only perpetuate the search for more information, the only adequate way to satisfy the quest for static answers is to think about the larger, dynamic narrative structure that intertwines them. This is important because rethinking the search for a fixed, platonic truth as a dynamic exploration of how that search can be meaningful parallels the way that third wave baristas tend to think about coffee. The dirty little secret about the perfect cup of coffee is that it doesn’t exist; instead, trying to construct the perfect cup of coffee only functions as a way for baristas to keep learning about coffee and to keep making their coffee better.
Adopting this paradigm as we think about coffee is crucial to understanding why the everyday appreciation of coffee can be so rewarding. One of the misconceptions I feel my last post may have encouraged is viewing coffee as a static product. Coffee is generally portrayed as a fixed, opaque end-product that is completely dissociated from its method of production (earlier this week, a café employee answered my question about where and when their beans were roasted with: “I’m not allowed to tell you”). Coffee beans are packaged like different flavors of candy (light roast, dark roast, African, Hawaiian blend); different types of coffee are listed on a board like soft drinks; flavor terminology is reduced to “strong” and “weak.” Thinking about coffee and coffee products as manufactured goods neglects the relationship between production and product that makes coffee appreciation both dynamic and rewarding. A more apt comparison would suggest thinking about coffee the way we think about good food, in which both the properties of the starting materials and the method in which those materials are combined and prepared creates the final dish. Therefore, as we begin to think about cultivating an enriched understanding of coffee, coupled with a movement toward our individualized conception of the most enjoyable cup, the opaqueness with which coffee is presented to the typical consumer will have to be made more transparent. To that end, one of my new objectives is to occasionally infuse my explorations of day-to-day coffee appreciation with a slightly didactic approach. My goal is that by pairing intellectual and technical explorations of coffee, I will be able to elucidate coffee as a dynamic process in a way that is accessible to both the everyday coffee drinker and the die-hard coffee enthusiast.
Latte art. It looks pretty. It’s hard to make. But what does it mean?
It turns out a whole lot. Latte art can only be poured if certain variables in the coffee-making process are perfectly balanced, meaning that latte art, itself represents a harmony of both style and substance. The refined look of the design in the cup is contingent upon the refined preparation technique(s) which made that design possible, a synchronicity which is reflected in the quality of the drink. Because latte art can only be poured when the coffee is made to exacting standards, seeing latte art in your cup immediately indicates that (barring a few exceptions) your drink will taste fantastic. This artful concomitance between form and function provides us with an elegant rubric for demystifying the dynamics of coffee preparation. First, I will use latte art as a way to explore the role milk plays in milk-based espresso drinks. Then, I want to discuss how thinking about coffee, itself as artful can help us explore the way its dynamic nature interfaces with our repetitious enjoyment of the drink.
Preparing milk is a science. The end result is ideally a sweet, rich pitcher of warm milk that is infused with a layer of dense foam. In order to arrive at that pitcher of steamed and frothed milk that is crafted to intermesh with a great shot of espresso, some basic science behind the process must be unfolded.
As the temperature of milk increases, so does the solubility of the lactose molecules it contains; this is why steamed milk tastes sweeter. Steamed milk reaches its “sweet spot” (clever, I know) between 140 and 160 degrees Fahrenheit (if you want a more precise temperature, we could settle on 155); above 160 degrees, the protein in the milk begins to break down, resulting in scalded milk (a new layer of large, gross foam also forms with the breakdown of protein, functioning as a serious detriment to the texture and flavor of good foam). At the same time, the initial splitting of protein in milk at low temperatures, as it is injected with hot air, allows for the creation of good milk foam. This process occurs best below 100 degrees Fahrenheit; it is also one-way (the protein cannot be unsplit), meaning that fresh milk should always be used with each new cup of coffee and that foam should be created by injecting small amounts of hot air at low temperatures. The fat content of the milk also influences its foaming ability (although this variance can be overlooked since it won’t hinder an experienced barista) and its perceived richness.
All this comes together when the steam wand is opened up and your barista begins the journey toward latte art. The chemistry behind the steaming and frothing of milk is directly responsible for its desirable attributes as part of an milk-based espresso drink. If the milk is heated to the wrong temperature or it is frothed too erratically or at too high a temperature, its attributes will deviate from their ideal state. How thick is the foam? What is the perceived sweetness and richness of your drink? Does it taste burnt? All this is determined during those brief seconds in line when the barista puts the steam wand into a pitcher of milk and turns it on. The perfect balance of these attributes creates an environment in which latte art can be poured (since the creation of latte art is contingent upon the existence of foam that is dense, composed of small bubbles, and infused into the steamed milk), meaning that the stylistic façade of latte art rests upon a more fundamental structure of milk preparation that interlinks the look of the artful latte with the reasons why it tastes good. On the other hand, if the bubbles are too big, the milk was not ideally frothed; if it tastes burnt, it was steamed for too long; if there is a high volume of large, tasteless bubbles on top, the protein may have broken down; etcetera. By demystifying the basic science behind latte art, we are able to transform the visual appeal of the milk drink into a formula for unfolding the way its taste can change every time.
This is why thinking of coffee as artful can be such a valuable approach, since it allows us to begin deconstructing the uniformity with which coffee is usually presented. Developing a biological and experiential understanding of what type of coffee we enjoy best based on our daily experience of coffee also means that we have developed a set of tools for approaching and unpacking the changing taste of coffee; the tools are our preferences. We can use the differences between our refined schema of the perfect cup and the attributes of the cup we are drinking as a litmus test for isolating and examining the aspects of the coffee before us, and what we like and dislike about it. In other words, using our sensory experience of coffee to continually question what we think about the coffee in front of us uses the static nature of everyday coffee enjoyment to explore the dynamic nature of a drink that is constantly different. This relationship integrates with a general notion of art, which we can define as: “the process or product of deliberately arranging elements in a way to affect the senses or emotions.” Latte art can be though of as an ideal arrangement of coffee elements in a way that heightens its sensory appeal. Similarly, thinking about how the ensemble of different coffee attributes appeals to her coffee preferences allows the average coffee drinker to explore the dynamic nature of coffee despite the veil of monotony she is likely to encounter in a typical café.
The concept is deceptively simple. It basically suggests that we think about why we like or dislike a certain cup of coffee. But that simple suggestion implicates a larger paradigm shift in how we think about coffee, which replaces the search for the ideal cup with a more involved and rewarding exploration of how and why we like the coffee we do. Just a little more focus allows us to peel back the looks, tastes, and smells of our coffee from beneath the surface of its uniform façade. In so doing, we unlock a new world of learning in which our favorite drink can be a gateway to exploring new elements of coffee preparation, and in which those elements of coffee come together to make a drink we enjoy more and more each time.
Sources
For their own sake, I will not mention the name of the café where they were not allowed to tell me about their beans. I have nothing positive to say about that.
De Lazzer, Aaron. “The Milk Frothing Guide.” Coffeegeek. 7 Nov. 2003.
[http://coffeegeek.com/guides/frothingguide]
“Art.” Wikipedia. 18 Jul. 2010.
[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Art]
