Stato della California di mente (California State of Mind)

I have officially found a way to teleport myself from New York City to LA in 1 subway transfer and 2 block walk. I didn't go to school for science, but I am pretty sure that all I had to do was walk into the new Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on 39th and Broadway to jet set to LA in an instant.

White cushioned walls, colorful posters on the walls, and an instant photo machine (FOR FREE), I definitely wasn't in any of my favorite New York City shops any more. I was officially in the California-based coffee shop, that recently opened in mid-town Manhattan. I was definitely in a place I could call a vacation on a lonely Saturday afternoon.

And the best part is that upon arriving, ordering, and sitting, I wasn't alone.

I was in the comfort of a foamy, beautiful mix of espresso and milk. I had a hand(le) to hold and I had my number one friend--a mug of cappuccino. I had my best friend Joe (hehe) to support me through my day--through my writing--through my relaxing. And I sipped on that cappuccino slowly, wishing it would never end, because even if it was a tad too foamy, it was still good, and it was still the perfect vacation from a lonely Saturday afternoon.

Science better catch up.

Immagine di cappuccino (Image of Cappuccino)

I drink A LOT of cappuccino. I drink it when I am sad--I drink it when I am happy. I drink it when I am neutral. I drink it to get a slight rush. I drink it to take a photo. I drink it to write my blog. I drink it to taste something amazing, wonderful and delightful. I drink it hold a hand. I drink it have a conversation. I drink it so I can always have a "Coffee date" aka date with my coffee. I drink it to inspire myself. I drink it to be happy. I drink a lot of cappuccino.

I recently watched the Matt Cutts in which he inspires people to try something new--for 30 days. I chose drawing. And today...I chose to draw my favorite cappuccino art. I think I'll like this challenge : )

Una preghiera di Cappuccino - (A prayer of Cappuccino)

Our Cappuccino, who art in mug

Swallowed be thy fame

Thy caffeine come

Thy will be drunk

In kitchen as it is in café

Give us this espresso, our daily dose

And forgive us our coffee lapses

As we forgive baristas who trespass against us

And lead us not into addiction

But deliver us to satisfaction. Amen.

Perché Amo il Cappuccino? (Why do I love Cappuccino)

"Everyone needs a tagline. And I guess yours is cappuccino?"

That's what my boss said to me as I pulled out my cappuccino shirt and laughed about my recent purchase.

"You really do love it, don't you?" She added.

Still laughing I told her that I had also created business cards with a cappuccino image on them.

"It really is your tagline."

And then another co-worker chimed in.

"Why do you love it so much?"

That answer is easy. But it requires a story:

It starts with falling in love with coffee. You see, I can tell you the exact day that I began loving coffee. I was sitting in the kitchen with my mother, and she was filtering coffee into a mug that had the Starry Night design on it. I hadn't even tasted the coffee, but just the smell had gotten me. It was a scent like none other. The only competition, it had, in fact, and has ever had has been fresh chocolate chip cookies-which come in second place every time. You see, growing up, each time I noticed the steaming aroma moving through the house, I'd walk upstairs and sit with my mother. "One day this mug will be yours," she would tell me, as she sipped from the Starry Night mug.

The mug now resides on a shelf in our guest room. When I finally have my own place--I'll inherit it. I dream of my own starry night when I can drink a cappuccino from that mug myself. For now, I just have inherited a love of coffee that I am not sure I can ever lose.

In fact--in high school, I wrote a five minute audition speech comparing high school to a cup of coffee that won me the honor of being one of two class speakers on graduation day. Nearly four years later, I had debated re-writing the coffee metaphor to match college. But I think someone told me that the only speech I should be making about coffee again is at a support group for coffee lovers... "Hi, my name is Libby, and I am a coffee addict."

But it wasn't till my junior year of college that I discovered what a cappuccino was. I traveled across the Atlantic Ocean and into Italy. As I looked at a menu of coffee drinks, I felt like Columbus must have felt when he discovered a new world: Lost and heavenly all at once. There was espresso, and caffe Americano, and caffe lungo, and caffe late, and then--there it was--cappuccino. The only problem was I didn't know what any of these were. I hadn't taken an Italian class yet, and I had become accustomed to ordering a large-hot-caramel flavored coffee at the Dunkin Donuts located on the top of my campus. Everything was foreign to me--except the smell of the coffee shop. I nearly ordered a caffe Americano, but after watching my friends bitter expression, following a sip of her first cup of Joe in Europe, I went for the more fun sounding drink--the cappuccino.

It was then that I never looked back. It was then that I discovered bubbles, and foam, and fun latte art, and the pet peeves of Italians to drink a cappuccino after 10 am. It was then that I learned I didn't mind a coffee drink being so small in comparison to the ones I had always drank in America, because I could just buy more--taste more--treat myself more.

It took me two years to go back to Italy to have a cappuccino, after returning to America. Upon returning to Italy in October of 2010, I began my blog, drank up to 7 cappuccino in one day, attempted to make my own cappuccino (failing miserably), and coffee crawled through northern Italy.

And while my love for cappuccino started accidentally, my continued love has been purposeful.

Because my love for cappuccino is in lots of things. It is in the smooth sound of the steamer as my barista or baristo forms the foam. It's in the latte art I receive on each different occasion. It's in the familiar smell of the aroma that fills a room. It's in the smile my coffee shop friends have when they see my look of ecstasy upon receiving my beautiful mug of deliciousness. It's in the hand(le) to hold on each mug. It's in every cappuccino--even if some can't compete with others. It's in every part of cappuccino. And I don't think it's going anywhere--anytime soon.

And that's why I love cappuccino so much.

Prendo un cappuccino con una faccia di un Panda? "No" (Can I have a cappuccino with a Panda face? "No")

It is not every day that I meet a furry friend on my travels through coffee shops. Normally, I find a heart shape design or a leaf, or a flower in the foam of my cappuccino-- a symbol of my barista's or baristo's skill, passion for his or her art, and hope to make my day that much better. But last week, after returning to Via Quadronno for one of their delicious cappuccini, my friend and I were handed what seemed to be the most delicate design I had even seen.

There he was--just staring at us with beautiful details. The cappuccino was actually for my friend Ashley, and I could see the sadness in her eyes as she knew the design would soon be gone when she went to drink the coffee. The panda's eyes almost formed a tranquil look as well--as if he knew his time was short.

For the rest of the day I continued to talk about my run-in with a panda bear at the cappuccino shop. My co-workers were nearly as amazed as we were. So I made it my mission to visit another well-known cappuccino place in Lower Manhattan.

When I arrived, I ordered my cappuccino, hoping that without question I'd receive at least some design. Instead--I received this--rather quickly and sloppily (even though I was the only one in line):

I almost approached the barista to ask what THAT mess was. Is that a half-assed heart, I thought to myself. Was there a failed attempt? But I kept my mouth shut...sipped on what was actually a tasty cappuccino, and thought of kinder ways to approach the situation.

I returned to the counter, with the panda photo ready on m iPhone.

"Excuse me"

"Yes?"

"Do you or any of the baristas here ever create art like this?" I nearly shoved my phone in her face.

"Ha," she laughed... "We don't have time for that--we are much too busy, we'd never get through a line. Plus we don't have the tools to do that."

Now--I may have been perfectly okay with this answer had she not continued, but it was when she continued that I had to refrain from pulling out my business card and telling her "I am no amateur in cappuccino tasting."

"Besides--after you do all that work, the cappuccino doesn't taste good."

I cringed.

'WHAT,' I exclaimed, in my head.

Ashley had declared her panda cappuccino delicious (Ashley was a fellow friend in Italy--so her opinion is as trust worthy as mine); and all my heart, leaf, and face cappuccini before that had been just the same--wonderful. And here, this barista was telling me that with more work, the cappuccino wouldn't taste as good.

But instead of saying this out loud, I nodded, walked out the door, and vowed never to return to La Colombe--no matter how good their cappuccino may have tasted--again.

Edited: November 12, 2011 -- I returned to the shop and had a cappuccino. I couldn't resist how good it tasted---Sigh. : )

Mi sono innamorata e non me ne frega chi lo sa! (I Fell in Love and I don't Care Who Knows It!)

My palms are sweating. My face is blushing. My heart is skipping beats.

This was my first blind date in...well ever. To be honest, I'd been given a fair description of what was to come, how beautiful it would be--and how lovely it would feel when it met my lips. Yes, this date deserved a kiss on the first one (and in this case--I am all about kissing and telling).

Warm and tender, with a hand to hold. Yes. This date was perfect...It let me stare a little bit too long, take photos like the paparazzi, even video. It must have known how good it looked--oh gosh how good it's warmth felt as my hand touched it's.

It was the perfect, most wonderful, first blind date I could have ever had--my date with a cup of cappuccino at Via Quadronno located at 25 73rd Street on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. It was a cappuccino for the elite--the ones who know good coffee, and the ones who never have and need to know it...It was delightful, magnificent, and all it's qualities nearly matched, if not, that of a solid, beautiful, tasty cappuccino straight out of Italy. It was the best I had since I returned in February.

Yes the foam was proportionately perfect to the espresso, leaving just a light milk mustache above my upper lip. And. Just like I gave it my heart--it wasn't afraid to give me it's on our initial moments together. Yes. I was in love. Yes. I don't care who knows it. And yes. I am having a relationship with my cappuccino. I bet you never had a blind date as good as this:

Lei ha preso la posta (You've got mail)

It’s Sunday morning, and the last thing I want to hear is a discrete ringing sound, calling out from my computer, to alert me that I have mail. I ignore my computer, throw on my jeans, and catch the train into the city. The first and only thing on my mind, on this day, is an Upper West Side brunch that comes with a wonderful, delectable, cappuccino—I hope.

And it was the best Sunday morning cappuccino since Cafe della Pace

nearly three months ago.

It was actually my first cappuccino in several weeks. After receiving a pay check the day before, I felt that it was ultimately time to treat myself. As I neared the restaurant, I took note of several photos outside.

Each photo read “You’ve got mail” and had screen captures of the infamous romantic comedy which starred Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks nearly a decade ago.

Suddenly, the once annoying ring of “You’ve got Mail” had turned into a welcomed thought. “Oh. I will have a cappuccino where one of my favorite films was shot. How lovely.”

My friend and I were seated right away, and while we began our conversation, a part of my mind began to wander, “Maybe if they switched the chairs in here enough, I could actually be sitting in a chair that Tom Hanks sat in.”

While in Italy, none of these things ever crossed my mind—probably because the famous people who have graced each and every coffee shop haven’t been advertised on the windows of each and every coffee shop in the country.

“Maybe Meg Ryan practiced her lines in that chair,” I continued to think.

“Maybe some intern got his or her first big shot in this restaurant pouring that one cup of coffee that no one would actually drink, but would sit in front of the two biggest stars in movies. Maybe I am going to drink out of that exact mug.”

A few long minutes after ordering my cappuccino, I was pleasantly surprised to see a decent size mug for one of New York City’s outstanding prices (3.75). This mug was much less amputated than the mug I had to hug rather than hold at Le Pain Quotidien; and it was the perfect most brilliant shade of orange, picking me up from my morning grog.

As I reached for the hand of my mug, I noticed a chocolate seated adjacent to it. “Am I in Europe?” I thought. And I could have been for that hour and a half that my friend and I spent chatting back and forth about dreams, ambitions, and projects. The room was filled with an ambient light and a French décor; the coffee was in mugs similar to those that I frequently met at the bar of each café in Rome; and there was a distinct unique feeling that I had not met in any other coffee shop or restaurant in New York City. Yes, surely I had warped myself from my apartment in Brooklyn to a tiny European city.

Meg Ryan, Tom Hanks, and Europe all in one coffee shop—all at once. Wow. I sat back in my chair, listened to my friend, sipped on my cappuccino, and thought to myself: ‘A Sunday morning doesn’t get much better than this.’