I like coffee. I enjoy a coffee at home (yes we have a Nespresso machine) and I love a coffee out. I like the chains and the independent coffee houses. I will go to a posh place and I often enjoy a classic greasy spoon. I am not fussy.
What I appreciate is the ritual of ‘going for a coffee,’ the anticipation that I am meeting someone or if going solo then I will get to sit down, really sit down, and read the paper. A coffee out is not just a drink; it is a symbol of hope.
When the children were babies, I usually could be found in my local café Nero in East Dulwich with a coffee and infant. I needed to be around people. In fact, the staff knew me so well in that Cafe Nero that when I was 8 months pregnant with my third they refused to serve me a normal coffee and handed me a decaffeinated flat white instead. I didn’t mind.
When we moved even further south, two mums and I used to set the world to rights after the school run at the local Nero. Judge if you want – it was cheaper than therapy.
When I am ‘on the continent’ especially in Paris there is nothing I enjoy more than having a coffee in a Parisian terrace and watching the world go by, in particular judging what the women are wearing. When I witness other customers on their phones beside me, I just wonder what kind of madness possesses them to ignore all the world outside on the pavement stage.
Anyway, I have noticed something rather shocking lately. The barista has taken the time to make the wonderful cup of coffee and then he hands you the cup. Just the cup. Not a mug, but a cup, without a saucer. What kind of fresh hell is this? What kind of revolution is upon us – is nothing sacred? I would like a cup AND a saucer. This is just basic – a cup and saucer.
And it’s not just the cup and saucer. Now and again when I find myself in a bar, sometimes a golf club nothing wild, and I order my beverage, the waiter scurries off to find the bottle of 7-Up or Fanta or San Pellegrino Aranciata Rossa Orange if I am feeling posh, opens it, places it on the bar and then actually asks, do you want a glass and ice with that?
Do I want a glass with my San Pellegrino? YES, of course, I want a glass with that. Do you think I am some kind of barbarian who is going to swig my drink straight out of the bottle that has been goodness knows where? That is what I think. I say, yes please, a glass with ice would be lovely. (I am never, ever rude to wait staff. I was a waitress once myself.)
The point is, I am not really in your lovely establishment for the overpriced sugary beverage that is going to cause me a massive insulin spike. It’s the ritual that I enjoy. I am ‘out’ which means I am not at home.
Even if it is just with one of the children after a game of tennis, I am here, away from the laundry, the nerf guns, and someone throwing Lego at my head. So yes, I would appreciate it if you could give me a nice glass with ice, and we can both watch the beverage cascade slowly down over the ice. You can do the honours, or myself, I don’t mind. I’m not fussy. Also I am not doing the washing up, so the washing of the glass afterwards is not my concern.
In this crazy world I just want to have some standards, to enjoy the simple things. Is that so much to ask? This means having a cup and saucer if you are in a coffee shop and a glass with ice, when in the bar. I might not be able to bring world peace, but in its own small way the humble cup and saucer represents order, decency, and a civilised way of living.