"è appena il latte" (It's just milk)

$2.95

$3.00

$3.15

$3.50

The dollar signs and the numbers that follow stare me deeply in the eyes. This is a stark contrast to the 1 Euro that I often read on an outdoor menu at a cute cafe in Tuscany, along a tiny alley-way beside the Pantheon, or below Juliet's balcony in Verona.

"$3.15 for a cappuccino," I think to myself. "We sure aren't in Italy anymore," I add to that thought.

I absolutely dread the idea of walking into a coffee shop or a corporate entity in New York City with the inability to order a simple cup of coffee with a delicious topping of foam. I hate the fact that when I reach to my back pocket to count my money, all I pull out is two crumply ones with 28 cents attached so I can afford the large Dunkin caramel flavored coffee--In Italy that would be 1.5 cappuccino--1.5 cups of deliciousness.

I feel lost without my daily dose of cappuccino. I'm a little more groggy than usual, and I haven't had a steady intake of vitamin D in over half a month.

I haven't had a cappuccino in nearly 20 days.

I don't know if I am going through detox--or withdrawal. Lust...or Loss....Love...or denial.

What I do know is:

I haven't had a cappuccino in nearly 20 days.

I sigh as I get through the end of my work day on the 26th floor--as I take one look out the window with quite possibly the best view in all of Manhattan..."I just want a cappuccino," I whisper out loud.

"Do you know any good coffee shops?" I ask my co-worker.

She springs off two names, nearly instantly.

"I want to revive my cappuccino blog...But I'll have to do it in spurts...Unfortunately, lint at the bottom of my pockets doesn't even afford a packet of sugar in the raw."

"It's just milk." She says pondering why a cappuccino could ever be so expensive.

"It's just milk," She repeats. "A cappuccino in New York City--for a little bit of froth--cost the same amount as a gallon of milk."

I laughed.

"It's just milk."

She's right. The price of a cappuccino in New York City is the equivalent of buying a gallon of milk.

But would that gallon of milk be frothed? Would it be so enticing that my rubber ducky would want to swim around in it?

Probably not.

And most of the cappuccino in New York City probably won't provide me with the Sant'Eustachio bubbles--or the Bull Dog chocolate--or the Museum of Cappuccino magic....

But that's why I am taking the opportunity to empty my pockets once a week, to rediscover my Italian love, to engage in fulfilling the hole in my heart where froth used to fill--to find the BEST cappuccino in the city that never sleeps--to find the best cappuccino that helps it to be a city that never sleeps. To find the best New York City cappuccino. To find my love.