Coffee

What I miss most about Italy is the cappuccinos (cappuccini?) New York coffee, even and especially Starbucks, is bitter, burnt and well, bad. An early morning cappuccino in Italy is like being awoken by angels. It doesn't need sugar; the steamed milk is sweet, not sugary and smooth, foamy not bubbly. The shot of espresso is never bitter, but dark, earthy, complex. It's the perfect size. It's small enough that it can be drank before the milk gets cold, but large enough to be savoured. Italians don't take their coffee "to go;" they drink it at the bar with a coronetto. As an aside my last night in Florence, we went to the bakery that makes the pastries for all the bars in the city. Our only directions were to follow "the smell and the light." We found it.
Since coming back to New York, I haven't been able to find a decent cappuccino. That's wrong I have found ok cappuccino. The espresso wasn't bitter; the foam wasn't stale, but something was missing. It didn't help that they are universally sold in paper cups and drank through plastic lids. There's just something special about drinking it from a cup and saucer. Most of them are just too big, too much milk, not enough coffee. I was despondent, but settled for drinking what I could get.
Until today. There is a little cafe near Washington Square that I have walked past thousands of times. The outside is unassuming, white stucco surrounding gigantic windowsm but the name, the name is promising. Caffe pane e cioccolato. Coffee bread and chocolate. Today I finally had a reason to go in and it was just like being back in Italy.