Those who know me, and above all, my husband, know how cranky I get if I don’t have my morning coffee. I see it as an absolute essential in life, but it must be perfect. These days, you can get excellent coffee in Ireland, but there are still places where you have to send back inferior americanos. I’ve also lost count of the number of times sneaky, ill-informed baristas have tried to charge me almost five euro because I ask for a double shot. Philistines! People may call me fussy, but this is how I like it.
Double shot, hot water on the side and cold milk. I like my caffeine shot to be strong and in a large, white cup. I detest mugs and can’t abide those long, handled glasses.
It must have a caffe crema layer and then I add my milk and one white sugar. I flick through the papers…watch the world around me and relax into the day.
I must be in a cafe…Soul Food or Harlem in Belfast are my usuals…Cafe Revive in Galway or Pedro’s in Tuam if I’m in the West… Part of the appeal is the social aspect…a relic of my time in Spain…speaking of which, I will drink coffee ANYWHERE in my beloved Espana…they have it nailed, simple as.