I want to take a few moments and tell you guys about a drink we offer called the, "cappuccino." This post is inspired by a recent interaction I had whilst slingin.
There I am, in my groove, pulling 21 second shots (perfect) and stretching velvety microbubble milk (perfect). I get an 8oz to-go cup on the bar. "2x cap," is scrawled on the cup. Sweet. I got this.
I want to pause the story to tell you what a cappuccino is. That way when I tell the end of the story all of you would have to be crazy not to be on my side. Not that there are sides. The customer is always right. Heh.
So, traditionally, back in the day over across the pond the standard cappuccino was a 6oz drink. 1/3 shots, 1/3 milk, 1/3 foam. In this case two ounces of each. The shots are what we call ristretto shots or 'short shots'. But that is a whole nother entry. This one focuses more on the milk. When steamed correctly the milk and the foam should be married in a lovely union of creamy not-too-thick-not-too-thinness. My mom used to say the Colorado River is too thick to drink, too thin to plow. Similar concept. Except you can, in fact, drink it and when you do all those thousands of bubbles your barista just steamed up will dance across your tongue. The best way to tell a well made cap is to pick it up. If it feels heavy, like when you pick up a latte, it is probably a latte. Chances are the milk wasn't stretched properly. If you pick up a cap and it feels light, like maybe your barista didn't fill the cup all the way that is a true cappuccino. You tell by the weight, not by the look of the milk. If you go by the look of the milk you are looking for a dry cappuccino.
Here is where it gets trickier. The cappuccino can be customized to the customers liking. A dry cap is foamier, a wet cap is milkier. Often times with a dry cap the barista will have scoops of steamed milk on top that looks almost like meringue. Sweet peaks of dairy to dip your cookie in.
Without any specification we make a traditional cappuccino. The method of thirds.
So, now you know.
Now, I get this 8oz cup on the bar that says "2x cap." As I said before I was rockin my mojo. I'm not downtown quite so often anymore so when I am there I am basically Bon Jovi. I'm high fiving with one hand, steaming milk with the other. Kissing babies and wrapping pastries. Doling out relationship advice and counting money. At this rate I'm expecting to be awarded a medal for making this cappuccino. As I set my shots I was thinking about the employee meeting we held specifically discussing steaming milk for the cappuccino. Man, our customers are lucky we care so much, right?
"Uhm. I asked for a cappuccino." I am snapped out of my lala daydream by the gentleman scrutinizing my performance.
Thinking he perhaps was worried his drink had been forgotten in the lineup I cheerily assured him I was pouring it now and he would be enjoying it in just a momen--
"No. I said I ordered a cappuccino. That is a latte."
"Oh, well. I know it can be hard to tell sometimes until you taste but--"
"I know the difference. A cappuccino has foam. Whatever you just made is just milk. I saw."
"Here, let's just start over." I take his cup back and start setting fresh shots.
Just to make conversation and also to maybe help homeboy realize he doesn't have to treat me like a complete idiot to clear up the situation I chat him up with, "Okay, so, maybe you're looking for more of a dry cappuccino? The foamier cappuccino where the milk is in more rigid dollops on top?"
"There's only one way to make a cappuccino and it's espresso with foam on top."
"Well actually, jackass, that is what we call a macchiato."
I didn't say that in real life. I said that in I Heart Customer Service the newest reality hit TV show on Bravo. Watch what happens.
In real life I said (with a slightly waning smile), "Yeah. That's debatable."
And THEN because this man clearly was not backing down he retorted with, "I don't think so."
To which in IHCS I said, "You know, you're right. I've been here 5 years. The dry cappuccino happens to be my favorite drink to make and I make a damn fine one but you're right. I have no idea what I'm doing. Someone else should manage the store. Maybe you should! You wanna jump back here?!"
In real life I didn't actually say anything. I offered up a smile and a dry cappuccino with shiny, scoopable, sweet, structured foam in thick dollops that jiggled a little when I slid it to his side of the counter.
Success. His face softened a little. He took a sip, er, bite, and said, "so, next time I should ask for my cap to be dry?"
With a genuine smile and a nod I sent him on his way, all wrongs forgiven and some round about extra job satisfaction.
And that, my friends, is a cappuccino.
