Today was a glorious day in my town, and I have to say after getting a pedicure and manicure I decided to pop into the hairdressers for an appointment, well she was totally booked up today, so instead of rushing right home I stopped for a latte at the coffee shop on the corner. The best idea I had today, because it was one of the most delightful lattes I have had in a long time. Smooth, creamy, frothy and rich aromatic coffee. The cream was so thick you could stand the stirrer straight in the glass. I was about to take a sip of this piece of heaven in a glass, when the air was ripped apart by an ungodly yowl. I thought who is hurting some poor animal, again I hear this noise, closer still, so I start searching for the animal to go and help it out of its misery. Then I discovered where that horrendous sound was coming from. It wasn’t from some sick dog, it was from a child, who was basically throwing a tantrum with her adoring parents as the audience. Needless, my concern quickly turned to disdain, and the sudden realization, I really hate kids! I didn’t know who I wanted to slap more, the parents or the annoying noisy little brat ruining my latte experience? Luckily I opted for neither, hurriedly finished my latte and left with the intention of returning another day. I have to say I abhor the abuse of children, but there are times I can appreciate the Florentines of the middle ages, who sent their infants away to be raised in orphanages until they were about 5 years of age, because the wealthy parents didn’t want screaming babies cutting up their peace. Yes, terribly un-PC, but as long as it was quiet, and they could enjoy their lattes. What’s a little bit of childhood trauma, at least they didn’t have the priest buggering them.
Anyone who knows me, knows I adore coffee. Be it an espresso, or a sweet milky latte, I love the stuff. But, lately I am beginning to become a bit put off when ordering lattes. The reason being for this sudden aversion, are the spoons. Let me be clearer, the lack of proper spoons for the tall latte cups they are served in. There I am sitting in a nice cool restaurant, having just finished a nice warmed croissant with jam and butter, flakes of pastry all over my fingers, and this lovely masterpiece of gastronomic simplicity is presented before me. A latte, in a lovely ‘v’ shaped tall glass cup, the coffee and milk not having settled produce a graduated effect, the frothy head is a perfect crown. I sigh in contentment, reach for the brown sugar crystals, sprinkle them on top of the forth, wait for them to sink to the bottom of the cup, watching the progress, once everything is settled, I reach for the spoon. This is where it all goes flat. The spoon is a teaspoon, designed for a short squat cup. Consequently after my vain attempt to stir with this spoon it disappears into the latte cup beneath the froth, leaving me with a barely sweetened cup of coffee, sticky fingers and a strong desire to clobber the management. How difficult is it to have slightly longer spoons for lattes?