Feeding People: Double macchiato

Double macchiato

by Daniela Zenari

Glenda and Adriano Zenari, circa 1984. Photo courtesy Zenari family

He shuffles his way to his usual seat where he can watch everything going on in the bustling caffé.

“Hey Pops! How’s it goin’?” I say cheerfully.

“Shakey” he grumbles back in his typical fashion, “I need a coffee. Double macchiato.”

Grabbing the black handle of the portafilter (the piece that holds the ground beans in an espresso machine), I put it in the cradle of the automatic grinder and press the button for two shots of ground espresso. As the grinder whirrs I fill the milk pitcher, making it back just as the whirring stops.

A pleasant bubbling and hiss emerge from the pitcher. I make sure to keep the steam spurting wand just under the white surface, steaming the milk. This is the sweet spot for fabulous frothy foam.

With the full portafilter in one hand and the tamper in the other, I press down firmly on the freshly ground beans. The base of the tamper fits perfectly into the cup of the portafilter and the once mini- mountain of brown grounds is flattened into a prairie. It’s a fine balance to get the perfect tamp. Too loose and the result will be weak and watery, too firm and it will burn.

“Don’t press too hard,” my father chirps in. “I know.” I reply, only half listening to his continuous commentary behind me.

Locking the portafilter into place in the espresso machine I press the start button and it hums into action. As that liquid gold starts streaming out I examine the crema (the creamy caramel-coloured surface of any good espresso). It should be thick enough to completely cover the black depths below (like the head of a Guinness) and stick to the side of the cup (like the legs of an Amarone).

Satisfied with the crema I join the steamed milk with the espresso and finish it with a dollop of dense dairy.

“There’s a little too much foam,” he mumbles as he takes a sip, “but it’s okay. Yeah, good coffee bella.”