HOW MUCH ESPRESSO IS TOO MUCH?
by Bill Carrera
Once upon a time, I went with some friends and my brother to a coffee house. This was no Starbucks. There were tables, chairs, a bar, waiters and busboys. In other words, a real coffee house.
“What can I get you guys?” The waiter waited with pen hovering over pad.
“Bottomless cup of the dark roast and a blueberry scone,” I replied. Having been out for coffee before, I knew what I was doing. I looked around while the others ordered. Abstract art on the wall fought for attention with old movie posters and announcements from local bands.
“Same,” said Mitch.
“I want to try one of those ess-press-sos!”Jason exclaimed.
“Do you have any tea?” My brother had the menu in his hand but could not find what he was looking for.
“Yes, we have Sri Lankan Black Tea, Assam Black Tea, Earl Grey, Biluochun Green Tea and Matcha Green Tea...”
“Do you have Lipton?”
“Excuse me?” The waiter tilted his head a little and stared at him. With his teeth clenched, the waiter blurted out “Lipton?” He might have turned his head and spat.
Too busy crawling under the table, I missed the waiter’s full reaction.
“Yeah, Lipton, like in a little bag.” Making the tea bag dunking motion with one hand, my brother stared back.
“Lipton.” Without blinking, the waiter twitched his shoulders and also made the dunking motion.
“Yeah, Lipton, Lipton tea.” Meeting the waiter’s eyes, my brother matched him stare for stare.
“No sir, we don’t have Lipton.”
“Earl Grey, he wants Earl Grey.” Our friend Mitch solved the problem, then kicked my brother under the table.
When our order came, my brother raised his hand. The waiter hung his head.
“I ordered tea.”
“It’s in the infuser. Just put it in your cup and add the hot water... I’ll bring you another one.” My brother handed the waiter the cup with the floating leaves of tea in it. This is what happens when you open the infuser.
“Excuse me, why was my coffee so small?” Jason held up his empty espresso cup. “I’ll need like, three more of these.” Now, it was Mitch’s turn to crawl under the table. I laid my head down on the tabletop and thought about asking if I could move to another table.
“I’ll be right back.”The waiter hurried to the counter. There must have been a raffle going on, because he pointed at us and took two dollars from a bowl near the espresso machine. Returning to our table, the poor waiter handed my brother his new cup of hot water and an infuser.
Jason downed his second espresso of the evening.
"Can I get one of those pop-tart things?” my brother asked with his hand pointing at my scone. “But chocolate.” By now, the waiter could barely contain his snorting laughter.
Jason finished off his third espresso and waved the empty cup in the air at the waiter, who was plating up my brother’s scone. The barista’s giggles were audible even at our table as he finished preparing Jason’s fourth espresso. At our table, Jason, showing off skills we did not know he possessed, was drumming a complicated rhythm with a spoon and a knife.
It all went downhill from there. My brother, not knowing what to do with the clotted cream that came with his scone, poured it into his tea. Mitch left enough change on the table to cover his portion of the bill, went to use the bathroom, and never came back. I was left to shepherd my brother and Jason back to our dorm. Jason, by now, was speaking in caffeine-induced capital letters.
“WHERE’S MITCH?”
“He left us. I think he had a date?” I created a revenge list and put Mitch’s name at the top.
“WITH WHO?”
“I don’t know. Stop yelling!”
“I’M NOT YELLING, I’M CALM.”
“Go and walk over there... no, across the street.” I pointed across LaSalle Ave.
“I’LL BE QUIET. SHHHH.”
The evening was not an entire bust. When I got back to my room, Mitch had covered my entire bed with pop-tarts. But I think I got the last word when I handcuffed Jason to the inside doorknob of Mitch’s room. Last thing I heard when I walked away was:
“HEY! I GOT TO GO TO THE BATHROOM! BILL! BILL!”
“What can I get you guys?” The waiter waited with pen hovering over pad.
“Bottomless cup of the dark roast and a blueberry scone,” I replied. Having been out for coffee before, I knew what I was doing. I looked around while the others ordered. Abstract art on the wall fought for attention with old movie posters and announcements from local bands.
“Same,” said Mitch.
“I want to try one of those ess-press-sos!”Jason exclaimed.
“Do you have any tea?” My brother had the menu in his hand but could not find what he was looking for.
“Yes, we have Sri Lankan Black Tea, Assam Black Tea, Earl Grey, Biluochun Green Tea and Matcha Green Tea...”
“Do you have Lipton?”
“Excuse me?” The waiter tilted his head a little and stared at him. With his teeth clenched, the waiter blurted out “Lipton?” He might have turned his head and spat.
Too busy crawling under the table, I missed the waiter’s full reaction.
“Yeah, Lipton, like in a little bag.” Making the tea bag dunking motion with one hand, my brother stared back.
“Lipton.” Without blinking, the waiter twitched his shoulders and also made the dunking motion.
“Yeah, Lipton, Lipton tea.” Meeting the waiter’s eyes, my brother matched him stare for stare.
“No sir, we don’t have Lipton.”
“Earl Grey, he wants Earl Grey.” Our friend Mitch solved the problem, then kicked my brother under the table.
When our order came, my brother raised his hand. The waiter hung his head.
“I ordered tea.”
“It’s in the infuser. Just put it in your cup and add the hot water... I’ll bring you another one.” My brother handed the waiter the cup with the floating leaves of tea in it. This is what happens when you open the infuser.
“Excuse me, why was my coffee so small?” Jason held up his empty espresso cup. “I’ll need like, three more of these.” Now, it was Mitch’s turn to crawl under the table. I laid my head down on the tabletop and thought about asking if I could move to another table.
“I’ll be right back.”The waiter hurried to the counter. There must have been a raffle going on, because he pointed at us and took two dollars from a bowl near the espresso machine. Returning to our table, the poor waiter handed my brother his new cup of hot water and an infuser.
Jason downed his second espresso of the evening.
"Can I get one of those pop-tart things?” my brother asked with his hand pointing at my scone. “But chocolate.” By now, the waiter could barely contain his snorting laughter.
Jason finished off his third espresso and waved the empty cup in the air at the waiter, who was plating up my brother’s scone. The barista’s giggles were audible even at our table as he finished preparing Jason’s fourth espresso. At our table, Jason, showing off skills we did not know he possessed, was drumming a complicated rhythm with a spoon and a knife.
It all went downhill from there. My brother, not knowing what to do with the clotted cream that came with his scone, poured it into his tea. Mitch left enough change on the table to cover his portion of the bill, went to use the bathroom, and never came back. I was left to shepherd my brother and Jason back to our dorm. Jason, by now, was speaking in caffeine-induced capital letters.
“WHERE’S MITCH?”
“He left us. I think he had a date?” I created a revenge list and put Mitch’s name at the top.
“WITH WHO?”
“I don’t know. Stop yelling!”
“I’M NOT YELLING, I’M CALM.”
“Go and walk over there... no, across the street.” I pointed across LaSalle Ave.
“I’LL BE QUIET. SHHHH.”
The evening was not an entire bust. When I got back to my room, Mitch had covered my entire bed with pop-tarts. But I think I got the last word when I handcuffed Jason to the inside doorknob of Mitch’s room. Last thing I heard when I walked away was:
“HEY! I GOT TO GO TO THE BATHROOM! BILL! BILL!”