On many occasions I have walked into a coffee shop and within thirty seconds walked back out again. Either it was really busy, I didn't like the look of the barista or I didn't want to pay a premium price for an espresso cup worth of coffee. This time I lasted about two minutes. Maybe a minute and a half. The coffee was fairly expensive, but I was on Cockburn Street just off the Royal Mile so it was to be expected. I walked into Southern Cross cafe on the long, steep, winding cobbles. The cafe itself is nicely decorated with large windowed panels and as you enter there is a blackboard running the entire length of the counter. On it scribbled in chalked artisan hand writing where the drinks and daily specials. It felt very cosmopolitan. It would belong very well on the streets of London or Oxford.
The staff sashayed between the counter and tables with ease and uniformity. As I arrived the man behind the counter was careful plating two small glasses of milky coffee onto white plates. Oh dear. I don't like this already. This is what I call "posh coffee". Far more ego than substance. My mind immediately flashed back to a small coffee shop in Lincoln. An artisan coffee shop, whatever that means. A place where they only heat the milk to the "correct" temperature and don't do semi-skimmed, skimmed, soya or any other choice of milk. You get what you're given and told to like it. It's "proper" coffee. What it was was cold and considerably higher in fat content than I enjoy.
I realise I have just used a lot of parenthesis in the last paragraph. This is me expressing my sarcasm. Imagine a teenage boy going "So yeah books are cool". This is the level of sophisticated sarcasm I am employing.
So back to Edinburgh and I ask for a "skinny latte really really hot"
"Ew, yuck!" I hear behind me as a waiter drops an empty tray on the counter. The two men share a chuckle.
"I know. I know it's terrible." I respond with a grimace. "I just have to have it really hot."
The man starts making the coffee. I'm already a bit dubious. Someone who doesn't respect a customer's desire to have a really hot latte will undoubtedly not make it as hot as they want it. This isn't me being negative, it's me talking as the voice of experience. Something won't let them go against their own stringent philosophy that coffee should be served at an exact temperature.
Anyway, then I notice the milk by the side of the machine. It's whole milk. Flash back! Flash back! Flash back! I'm going to get a cold, fat coffee.
"Have you got any semi-skimmed milk?" I ask.
"No" the man replies.
"Okay, I think I'll leave it thanks" I say and hurry out of the shop before I have time to notice their faces. I'm sure they were delightful as I left, but I wasn't going to chance it.
So if you like your coffee "proper" served warm with full fat milk and a teaspoon of condescension visit Southern Cross Cafe along with stack loads of tourists. And if you fancy a train ride and end up in Lincoln desperate to be told you can't have your coffee how you like it, pop into Cafe Aroma. They both do the job!
http://www.yelp.co.uk/biz/southern-cross-cafe-edinburgh
The reviews on here are pretty good, so maybe I'm just a spoil sport.
Frothy Fun Fact of the Day: This isn't so much a fact as a recommendation. Apparently the ideal temperature to serve a latte is between 150-160 degrees Fahrenheit. I ask for mine at 180, wowser!
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