Today, I battled indecisive grey storm clouds and very decisive winds to get to the gem of a coffee place I found last week — and found out the importance of being earnest.
Last week I was SO happy to finally taste a good coffee after 3 months of fruitless cafe-hopping. Went from a savouring a cortado in 2 mins to 35 mins with a Kalita using Ethiopian beans that had so much flavour and complexity drawn out.
So imagine my disappointment when I had an overly tangy piccolo today but it was still, just barely, saved by how good freshly roasted beans themselves are. and then followed that up with a flat-flavoured Tanzanian Kalita that was supposed to have hints of melon.
Feeling confused, I decided to give a second chance with a Kalita of Tanzanian beans supposedly carrying hints of melon. It fell flat. And in speaking with the barista for today, I think I discovered the lacklustre flavours probably commiserated with the equally lacklustre attitude towards coffee-making. What’s the difference between your cortado and piccolo? “It’s exactly the same. It’s just like our latte and cappucino too — they’re exactly the same.” Oh really? Shouldn’t the milk to foam ratio be different for those two? “No, we make the milk however best we can, but they’re the same. Double shot espressos and same size cup.”
Now, I finally understand the importance of a good barista and also the importance of being earnest in what you do. Such a far cry in a week.
My heart broke a little each time I drank the coffee today because what I’d thought to be a gem turned out to have some cracks of inconsistency. Now, if Estonians are known to be direct, I wonder if I can ask about the schedules of the other barista and not cause offence doing so.
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