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A latte difference

The search for a good cup of coffee leads to the discovery of an art form
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I wanted a good coffee. And I mean really good.

I had caught myself daydreaming about a latte that morning. Aching, almost, to wrap my hands around some 21 st century ambrosia. I was just curled up in my duvet, musing about Mercury and how much faster he would have been with a decent cup or two. Things had come to a head.

It had been a couple of months. I was saving for a trip, and the Bodum cuts it, with the right Whistler Roasting Company Ltd. beans and the right grind. For, about two months. Then I found something was missing from my coffee-culture life. It was time for a latte. As I climbed out of bed, I was filled with both anticipation and a double-shot of trepidation.

Let me preface this with a little back information about myself. I have two pet peeves.

1) Pens that don’t work. They make me want to eat my brain.

2) Spending $4 on a latte and the milk is thinned out, over-heated and the coffee taste like I’ve been licking stale used filters (again).

But I’ll save the pen rant for another day.

The perfect latte. I like my latte with whole milk. Not 2 per cent, 1 per cent or translucent blue skim pseudo-milk. I prefer it in a mug, or bowl, but take-away is fine as long as there are heat sleeves. I don’t like to be distracted by blistering hands when I am indulging in a latte. I find it too hard to concentrate. A well-prepared latte is a little piece of heaven. It is quiet decadence, to be sipped and savoured.

I took the bus into town. I had to be at work at 8:30 a.m. I went in a little early. I started a mental catalogue of coffee shops in my head to select my caffeinated destination, where I would get exactly what I wanted. That double-shot of trepidation addled me, but I had faith I would be victorious.

First I had to list where I didn’t want to go. That was easy. I didn’t want a long line-up of weirdoes citing "double-tall-skinny-half-caf-extra-hot-to-go-with-quarter-whip and I’m in a rush no please and thank you," although the coffee is pretty good, I admit. And I refuse to pay for the bitter novice-garbage of many of the other local cafés. And the scenic route to Behind the Grind would have me late for my temp job at the lovely Delta Whistler Village Suites.

So, I went to Hotbox; close, convenient, funky sofa and wicked tunes. I maintain that I was lulled into a possible false sense of security in their latte-making prowess by the outdoor zebra-pattern sofa. It was very hip, in contrast to our cookie-cutter village, and I fell for it. I clutched my doubt Linus blanket, nonetheless.

I dubiously searched the coffee card box in the hope of unearthing the relic of my coffee card. I had not been to Hotbox in months. I found it, eventually, under the "R"s. Things were looking up. Truth be known, all the coffee cards had been filed under the "R"s. Funny that.

There was no line up. This was good in terms of time, but could bode ill for the beverage yet to come. The woman at the counter was very friendly. I detected a slight Aussie accent, although she was Japanese. I wondered if she was an Aussie-born Japanese, or whether she had picked up the accent here in Whistler. She asked what I would like. I looked up at her and pronounced the golden words: "A latte to go, please."

I paid. She stamped my card. I put my card under the "G"s, and then she turned to the task. I tensed with baited breath.

I half observed her as she ejected the coffee from the grinder, then snapped up a brush and dusted the residuals off the machine. The focus with which she attended to her creation gave me hope. The speed and agility with which she concocted the latte was fascinating. She seemed to be moving in time with the Café del Mar number 5 CD that was playing.

My mind wandered. I perused the art on the walls and the various clienteles at the Internet stations. I checked the time on my cell phone. I had time to sit outside and chill out.

And then, she slid me my coffee. I picked it up – and stared. Gilding the top of the latte was a heart, a froth milky espresso-ey heart. A perfect heart. I smiled my big smile saved for when I am surprised and delighted at the same time. Was I imagining things? Was it on purpose? Had I finally cracked? No, it was a heart. She made it for me. It was so nice.

And then, I raised the cup to my lips.

Divine.

It was the best latte I had tasted in much more than two months. My memory serves me well sometimes. I looked up at her; she was smiling, observing my reaction. "Thank you!" I gushed. Then I went outside, sat and indulged.

So long, Bodum

The Bodum went on a sabbatical. My trip fund suffered a minor but fully justifiable setback. I had forgotten what I had been missing; never again.

The next time I went in, she was there. It was the next day, I confess. She still did not have a name yet. I ordered another latte. This time, I watched her more carefully. The combination of grace and concentration was extraordinary. She carefully slid me the coffee. It was a tree, with leaves. Or rather, I thought it was a tree. I was corrected later. It was delicate and each leaf was in perfect proportion. I was astounded. I saw a poster at the entryway I had neglected to notice before. "Latte Art" it said. It was a collage of images of, I guess, "latte art". It was a new phrase. I said it out loud to see how it felt in my mouth. Had I heard the term before seeing what it was, I would have probably written it off as pretentious blather. But it was the other way around. The words tasted alright.

As I mentioned before, I love lattes. But this was a higher latte, a latte improved upon. Not like when they add vanilla or Cointreau or some other godforsaken addition to the already magnificent crème brulée. This was a discovery of a whole new facet of something I already thought was perfect. Like finding a secret passageway in your favorite house, or happening upon a hidden nook by a familiar ocean. It was unexpected, and altogether lovely.

So I asked her if she would talk to me about it. She, Izumi Inoue, was keen. I would come back the next day, with a digital camera, a pad of paper and at least two pens, just in case one of them…

Izumi’s passion for coffee has been brewing since she was a young girl in Japan. Coffee culture is massive there. In 2002, she spent two months glass washing at Tokyo’s very trendy Bar Del Sole, where she learned that it would take at least a year or so to even get near the espresso machines. She knew she could not possibly wait that long. It was time to move on.

An avid snowhound, Izumi spent a season in Germany. Then one day, surfing the Internet, she found a few coffee schools in Italy. Where better to learn and experience the true appreciation, artistry and culture of coffee? So, Izumi went to Italy. Everywhere she went, she was told that first she would need to learn Italian, and then she could come to school. Not to be dissuaded, but work visa-less, and speaking no Italian, Izumi went to various coffee shops and inquired as to whether she could just volunteer. She spoke English, German and Japanese, she was extremely eager, and she would work for free. Izumi would be an asset to any café. No brainer? No dice. Again, it was time to move on. Izumi went back to the Internet to do some more research.

Izumi discovered that there were also coffee schools in Australia. She flew to Sydney and attended The Danes Gourmet Coffee Institute there. Studies at the institute included berry growth through to making the perfect coffees to latte art. Izumi studied diligently. Then after a brief hiatus in Japan, she came to Canada, and worked in Toronto at Bruno Colazza’s B Espresso Bar on Queen Street East. And from there, she came to join us in Whistler, at Hotbox.

An art form

Now, back to latte art. There is latte art, and there is design art, in terms of coffee beverage art. Latte art is where you create a design from the coffee, milk and pour alone. But Izumi is quick to clarify that latte art is only complete if the entire coffee has been made properly. The success is dependent on each step being meticulously executed.

Design art is when tools are also used to create art on the surface of the latte.

Latte art seems more refined and simpler in terms of the process, but harder in terms of the skills required for mastery. Basic tools required are an espresso machine, cold milk, good coffee and a few pounds of extra-extra-fine patience. The temperature of the milk is crucial, as is the grade of the coffee.

The most popular shapes are the heart and the rosetta (what I had thought was a tree) and there is also the apple. David Shomer, owner of Espresso Vivace in Seattle also has a video and a book called Espresso Coffee Professional Techniques. Shomer is recognized as an espresso guru.

Surfing the Internet, there are many coffee websites, complete with handy tips, history, interviews as well as video footage of how to make latte art. From www.ilovecoffee.com to www.coffeegeek.com to www.coffeeforums.com , there are numerous websites to meet, greet and glean information about coffee from both coffee lovers and coffee professionals.

Now, here is the not-even Coles Notes version of how to make latte art. This will be brief.

• Make a perfect espresso

• Make perfect milk foam

Then, (I did say this was the very abbreviated form of the art. This is not something that can be communicated or mastered in such a short piece, especially by myself) once the milk is _ poured, you effectively will be pouring the milk straight into the center of the coffee and shaking the pitcher from side to side at the same time, with an even precision and rhythm. You will also be tipping the pitcher so that the milk continues to flow evenly. Some sites recommend practicing with water first to get used to the simultaneous movements. It is vital that the movement of the pitcher be slow, almost "lazy" to allow milk to accumulate on one side, then on the other. Your initial "throw" of the milk will create the first bough of your rosetta. Got it? Maybe I’ll leave this one to David Shomer, and Izumi Inoue. All websites stress that the only path to latte art perfection is practice, and then more practice and then a lot more practice.

Recently, Izumi took a brief holiday from Whistler to attend two coffee-related competitions. One was a Latte Art Competition in Las Vegas June 3-5 and one was the Canadian Barista Championships in Toronto.

"For (the Las Vegas) competition," explained Izumi, "there were only four different elements: aesthetic beauty and symmetry, color infusion, definition and creativity on the surface of café latte. The taste of coffee did not really matter. But to get very good latte art, you, of course, have to know how to extract the best espresso beforehand."

There were 18 contestants, all from the United States, save Izumi. She came in fourth.

"I was very happy with that," she said.

Next, Izumi headed for Toronto, to help out at B Espresso Bar, where she had previously worked, and also to compete in the Canadian Barista Championship June 13-14. There were only nine competitors, and Izumi did not fare as well as in Las Vegas, but she was pleased with the opportunity to meet so many people and to have been given the chance to attend the competition by B Espresso Bar’s owner, Bruno Colazza.

"I have been entering coffee-related competitions just for fun, and to put myself in a situation where I have to force myself to study about coffee. Otherwise, I am not growing, right? I take the process more seriously than the competition, and if winning an award comes on top of it, then I’ll just be more happy."

Izumi’s attitude to competition is both straightforward and refreshing. She stayed on to help out at the café for a couple of weeks before returning to Whistler.

Taking on the world

The lexical definition of the term, "barista" is a "preparer/server of coffee." In some countries this term also denotes a measure of coffee-making ability and experience. It is a sought-after title. Slowly, the occupation of barista is gaining widespread respect as a profession.

"The barista world has just started to spread around to major countries over the last few years," says Izumi. "This was the third time that Canada has been represented at the World Barista Championships. Japan has also just started attending and competing in world championships."

The first World Barista Championships were held in Monte Carlo in 2000. There were 12 competitors. The mission statement of the championship is: "Coffee that looks great and tastes great! The WBC aims to foster quality and creativity in coffee, and to promote friendship and the sharing of coffee knowledge among baristas, roasters, growers and the public, around the world through showcasing the talent and professionalism of baristas…"

The 2005 World Barista Championships were held in Seattle. Past competitions have been held in Trieste (Italy, 2004), Boston (2003), Oslo (2002), Miami (2001) and Monte Carlo. This year, Norway placed first, Canada second and Denmark third. This competition has grown over the years from the original 12 competitors to 34 this year. Interestingly enough, Italy has yet to place in the top three. Scandinavian countries have won most of the accolades over the last six years.

Izumi more than answered my meagre questions about pretty art on the top of a coffee. I was amazed. And what would be her goals, taking into account her obvious drive and dedication to coffee and the creation of good coffee?

"That’s a hard question," she began. "I never really had any plan for the future, or for even the next half year…. To be honest, for the last few months, sometimes I find myself dreaming of having my own espresso bar in a favorite place… where I can ski or hike in a beautiful mountain area, with lots of cool people around… we’ll see. I always wanted to work for someone I look up to and respect as a barista and also someone I can learn a lot from working with him/her, or just from watching him/her…"

Next we worked on the latte art photo shoot. Izumi worked very quickly to create a selection of latte art samples, and stressed that the pictures needed to be taken right away, within 30 seconds, or the quality would be lost. We took a slew of shots, both indoors and outdoors, and I had her select those which she felt best reflected latte art.

And what was Izumi’s favorite coffee?

"A very good (single or double) espresso macciato. It has got to be a good one!"

Izumi had a difficult time citing the best coffee she had ever enjoyed.

"I guess it totally depends on the situation, your mood or emotion at the time, and then the barista’s mood, who is making the coffee, all that will add to the taste of a more flavourful coffee. But for now, I guess the small latte I drank at Café d’Arte in Seattle, last October was unforgettable. That really came into my heart as well as my stomach and throat," she beamed, lost in a memory for an instant.

Where did it come from?

There are many different versions of the origin of coffee. Some say it was discovered in the Middle East around 550AD, and others that it came from Ethiopia. Possibly the most popular version tells the tale of an Abyssinian goat herder named Kladi who noticed that his goats were particularly frisky after feeding on the red berries of a certain bush. Curious, he tasted the berries himself, and experienced a rush of energy. This is an interesting origin for a commodity presently second only to petroleum in terms of dollars traded worldwide.

Espresso, less mysterious in origin, was first invented in France in 1822, but was perfected shortly thereafter by the Italians. There are currently more than 200,000 espresso bars in Italy.

My interview with Izumi Inoue was coming to a close. I racked my brain for any other questions I might have for her, but the glut of new information had wiped all other queries from my mind. I was also working on my second latte in about 30 minutes, so I was also feeling a little wired and distracted. I sat at the table and stared at the four remaining lattes on the table and listened to my brain crackle. I asked her if she was going to have one of them. She smiled, and told me she had had enough already. She’d better not.

She offered me one, and I accepted. I couldn’t help it. I chose a heart, thanked Izumi and went outside to sit and indulge on the zebra-print sofa.



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