By William Tanzarian
Listen, I get it. I’m not just some customer who comes in and bastardizes all your hard work by adding loads of milk and sugar. Sure, I’ve never actually been a barista before, but I own a kettle and I grind my own beans at home, so I understand what it’s like to really put your all into your craft.
You and I, we’re artists—we just get each other. That little tiny cup—a demitasse I believe it’s called—that is your canvas. But we both know that crafting the perfect drink is as much trial and error as it is artistry. That’s why I don’t mind waiting 15 minutes for my espresso while you fidget with your espresso box, dumping out shot after shot. Hell, I demand it.
With every hopeful sip of what was supposed to be “the one” and every puckered grimace, I can feel your art, your pain. Watching you pour all those syrupy attempts down the drain before serving my little tiny coffee with a resigned shrug bares to me your very soul. A true artist is a perfectionist and, therefore, never happy, just like you when you taste those espressos. You are a true professional.
That’s why whenever a “barista” (and I’m using that term loosely here) tries to pass off their first draft—and has the nerve to cover up their shoddy craftsmanship by being pleasant, as though I won’t see right through it—I know they’re not an artist. Not like us.
So please, don’t worry about the line forming. This tiny little cup of liquid salt is perfect and worth every single second of the wait I (and the 15 other customers behind me) had to endure to get it. And quite frankly, if I didn’t have to wait for it, how would I even know if it was any good?
William Tamzarian is a to-go espresso connoisseur. He like it in a big cup with lots of ice and wants to know where you keep your cream.