Tuesday, September 11, 2007

High maintenance, what?

Got antsy in the library today, so I went to the on-campus Starbucks to fill up on productivity/cookies/goodness. The line was quite long, but there were several people ahead of me who ordered things extra-hot and the like, and the baristas seemed very on the ball.

Me: Hi. I’d like a two-pump vanilla quad extra dry cappuccino, extra hot. And a cookie.
Coffee-Girl: ….A cappuccino? With an extra shot?
Me: ...I’d like 4 shots. In a grande cup.
Coffee-Girl: Oh. Non-fat?
Me: Oh god, no. Full fat. (Chose to take that one as a question, not a suggestion)
Coffee Girl: Grande Cappucino!
Me: …Wait, no, there's more! I’m almost there, I swear. Two pumps of vanilla, 4 shots of espresso, lots of foam. Cappucino. Extra hot.
Coffee-Girl: ...…Really?
Me: I’m in law school.

It's true, I am. I can't help myself.

I realize that my high maintenance drinking habit may make me the bane of food service personnel everywhere: I do always tip, however, and am duly worshipful of the foam-enabled.
I could make it easier on them by ordering my other favorite, always delivered to new coffee-making friends in the same way:
"Don't laugh. I'd like a grande cup. Put 4 shots of espresso in it, and then fill it to the top with whipped cream. Thanks!"

There is a name for this concoction, besides "Heaven": Doppia con panna. However, only my very favorite coffee-friends know it, and rather than risk the bastardization of my extra-special treat, I tend to describe it in detail instead.

The unfortunate part of my mid-afternoon coffee run was the discovery of a Very Bad Thing: Having subsisted for the last month on press coffee, I had nearly forgotten the all-powerful allure of a good cup of espresso (no credit to Starbucks, really, for good espresso, but you take what you can get). Infused with magic, foam, and goodness now, I fear that when I wake up tomorrow, piping hot press coffee just won't have the same kick....planning on shopping for espresso makers instead of listening in Torts tomorrow morning. Awesome.


All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson