Coffee - Richard Johnson

I don't know if it was the coffee beans (Tanzanian Peaberry and Sumatran Mandeling), the hand grinder, the personal cafetiere or the trioxane pocket stove in her handbag that gave it away. But I always knew Neris was particular about coffee. Now, to make matters worse, she has gone and discovered Starbucks. "Try one of these" she says, handing me a teaspoon dipped in white chocolate. "You want flavoured creamer with that? Cinnamon?" She's lost her coffee-loving mind. But she says she's tasted the future. And it will be served with two gingerbread biscotti.

I remember a time when it was different. When a 'free refill' was a threat rather than a promise. When coffee tasted like tea. I remember industry insiders talking about toasted bran and chicory as "the new coffee" because coffee was dead. But then came Frasier and Friends, and all of a sudden we were ordering double skinnies like we knew what it actually meant. Now coffee shops are everywhere. Baristas are busily swathing espressos in hot milk, whipped cream and flavoured syrup, and handing us back something that looks like an ice-cream sundae. Which isn't always a good thing.

You see espresso isn't a solution but a colloid-a mixture of liquids, gases and finely dispersed solids. It has more than 1,500 chemical components detectable by taste and smell-far more than wine. A good espresso will give you an aftertaste that can last for 20 minutes, making it a good match for a short cigar. Wine, which we get terribly uppity about, is judged to have 'a long finish' when its aftertaste lasts for over 60 seconds. So the bean and the roast are important. The double dash of raspberry syrup doesn't really help.

My biggest gripe is with these coffee bars that buy pre-ground coffee. Or grind enough to last them for two days. I'm here to tell you that oxidisation is public enemy number one. Which is why I liked the Starbucks in Brighton. They used freshly ground beans. They didn't extract the espresso too quickly (anything under 20 seconds, and I recommend a simple grinder adjustment) and they didn't try to pull multiple shots from one load of coffee. They even put the right amount of steamed milk into the cup. Maybe I was just lucky.

The premises used to be a sweet all-year-round Christmas shop in the Lanes of Brighton. Last year Starbucks moved in. I know that in the US it's fashionable to complain about Starbucks. And Microsoft. And McDonalds. Neighbourhood Mom and Pop coffee shops reckon that Starbucks seek out locations next to successful coffeehouses-no matter what the cost-and then discount until they kill off any opposition. All Starbucks is actually doing is free-market capitalism. Better than anyone else. Go live in Cuba, I say. Which doesn't sound much of a threat any more. But in my experience Starbucks serve uncommon grounds, and deserve their success. And it's not like we've got a British coffee culture to get sentimental about.

Starbucks
18-19 Market Street
Brighton



		Coffee I don't know if it was the coffee beans (Tanzanian Peaberry and Sumatran Mandeling), the hand grinder, the personal cafetiere or the trioxane pocket stove in her handbag that gave it away. But I always knew Neris was particular about coffee. Now, to make matters worse, she has gone and discovered Starbucks. "Try one of these" she says, handing me a teaspoon dipped in white chocolate. "You want flavoured creamer with that? Cinnamon?" She's lost her coffee-loving mind. But she says she's tasted the future. And it will be served with two gingerbread biscotti. I remember a time when it was different. When a 'free refill' was a threat rather than a promise. When coffee tasted like tea. I remember industry insiders talking about toasted bran and chicory as "the new coffee" because coffee was dead. But then came Frasier and Friends, and all of a sudden we were ordering double skinnies like we knew what it actually meant. Now coffee shops are everywhere. Baristas are busily swathing espressos in hot milk, whipped cream and flavoured syrup, and handing us back something that looks like an ice-cream sundae. Which isn't always a good thing. You see espresso isn't a solution but a colloid-a mixture of liquids, gases and finely dispersed solids. It has more than 1,500 chemical components detectable by taste and smell-far more than wine. A good espresso will give you an aftertaste that can last for 20 minutes, making it a good match for a short cigar. Wine, which we get terribly uppity about, is judged to have 'a long finish' when its aftertaste lasts for over 60 seconds. So the bean and the roast are important. The double dash of raspberry syrup doesn't really help. My biggest gripe is with these coffee bars that buy pre-ground coffee. Or grind enough to last them for two days. I'm here to tell you that oxidisation is public enemy number one. Which is why I liked the Starbucks in Brighton. They used freshly ground beans. They didn't extract the espresso too quickly (anything under 20 seconds, and I recommend a simple grinder adjustment) and they didn't try to pull multiple shots from one load of coffee. They even put the right amount of steamed milk into the cup. Maybe I was just lucky. The premises used to be a sweet all-year-round Christmas shop in the Lanes of Brighton. Last year Starbucks moved in. I know that in the US it's fashionable to complain about Starbucks. And Microsoft. And McDonalds. Neighbourhood Mom and Pop coffee shops reckon that Starbucks seek out locations next to successful coffeehouses-no matter what the cost-and then discount until they kill off any opposition. All Starbucks is actually doing is free-market capitalism. Better than anyone else. Go live in Cuba, I say. Which doesn't sound much of a threat any more. But in my experience Starbucks serve uncommon grounds, and deserve their success. And it's not like we've got a British coffee culture to get sentimental about. Starbucks 18-19 Market Street Brighton

		© Richard Johnson 2000 - 2009