I generally fail to go for any of these contests for one big reason: I don't want to waste my money on crap coffee, and it's my impression that all the places around where I have been living are genuinely bottom of the bucket. But, I was in downtown Santa Fe, NM yesterday afternoon, and I was wanting to find out if there were anything good to be had.
Cafe Allegro, Hand-Crafted Espresso
Enter
Cafe Allegro,
Hand-Crafted espresso. I noticed a curious old-school looking machine as I walked by, and wended my head and my feet (and, needless to say, the rest of me) into the store. Over on display near the counter was a Faema lever commercial machine (already forgot the name), unconnected but beautiful and encouraging.
Could it be? I wondered.
Have I found a real espresso cafe?
Their main use machine was nothing I had ever seen. It was red along the sides and back, and said "SM" on the back. After looking around the internet for awhile, I found it:
The La San Marco 85 Leva 3 group. Remember, though, at the time I had no idea what this was.
There was a group of Indian tourists in front of me, all ordering americanos and mochas and cappuccinos.
Great, I thought.
I get to watch her (the "barista") work and see how she does. As it turns out, this wasn't exactly the best thing for me.
I watched as she poured milk into a 44 oz. pitcher for the 5 drinks that had just been ordered. She put it up to the wand, without blowing out the condensed water before starting, and began to steam. I couldn't see the milk from where I stood, so I just listened.
Tcchh-ch-cch. Silence.
Tccch-ch-cchh. Silence. Then she stopped, and dispensed something into the milk.... vanilla? OK. Then she steamed some more. Then she set the milk aside and began to produce her shots. Dose, don't distribute, tamp (super light).
She's using a plastic tamper... Lock the portafilter in. Pull the lever hold for 3 seconds, and then walk away as it slowly trickles out in a stream that was anemic and watery.
Oh no... Definitely ordering a latte, save me from that at least a little bit...
For her cappuccinos, she poured the shots into paper cups and then, holding the foam back with a spoon, poured milk (that had now been sitting for a good while) into the "cappuccino." When she tipped the pitcher, I saw now that her foam was dry as bath bubbles, and even had some that were
surprisingly big.
For her americanos, she filled a paper cup with hot water and poured a shot into it. The crema disappeared as soon as she poured it onto the water.
Smiling, I was panicking.
What do I order? There's no way I am dropping $3 for a latte like that. It wouldn't save me from the espresso, only make it even worse! I Looked at the menu frantically for something else. Nothing seemed worth it, even the Chai.
The Indian man placing the orders for the rest of his family looked at me and said, "You got here at just the wrong time, didn't you?"
"Oh? How do you mean?" I replied.
"Well, we just put in all these orders..."
"Ah, that's no problem. Coffee takes time," I half-smiled.
When she finished their order, the "barista" came back to me and looked at me. "Hmm," I said. "Where do you guys get your coffee?"
"A place called Cafe Allegro, we have our own roaster," she answered.
"Ah... So, is it roasted here in Santa Fe?"
"No, it's roasted somewhere in Colorado."
"Oh, so you guys have it shipped down here weekly?"
"Oh yes, it's very fresh. It's excellent coffee."
DANG IT! I just want to leave! LET ME OUT! I smiled. "I think I'll have a single."
"For here or to go?"
Are you kidding? "Definitely for here, I don't do that paper cup thing."
"Oh, are you a coffee connoisseur?"
I bet you can't even spell that. "I suppose so..."
"Well, you'll really like this."
She went over to the grinder, doser full of grinds, and flicked it twice into her portafilter. It wasn't very much coffee, though it seemed adequate for a single. But... she was using a double basket... Again she didn't bother with any distribution, and tamped with little or no force. When she pulled the lever down and held it for a few seconds, I watched as another anemic trickle emanated from the single spout, black as oil and thin as alcohol.
She handed it to me, and I saw, thank goodness, there actually was some crema there. there was a big blond spot in the middle, but the other crema was actually reasonably dark. "Enjoy," she said.
I sat down and began to force myself to drink it. after my first small sip, all the crema dissipated. It was hot, black, and bitter. I was reminded of something my mentor at the lab told me the other day about his take on coffee:
"I can't stand coffee. It always leaves me this aftertaste like I just smoked a cigarette. If I'm going to have to put up with that, I'd really just as soon smoke a cigarette."
That's exactly how I felt, drinking this shot. and the aftertaste stuck for a good while, though not as long as a cigarette, thank goodness.
I returned the cup to her, and she asked how it was. I wanted to demand my money back. I wanted to enumerate to her all the things she did wrong. I wanted to tell her how pathetic it is to charge $1.50 for month-and-more-old coffee brewed by someone with as much knowledge of brewing espresso as someone from McDonald's.
"It was fine," I said, and left.