Coffee Culture
On the essence of coffee; the coffee-making instruments that made history & regional specialties
Welcome to our fresh new Cabinet of Curiosities, the source for your monthly food digest and discovery of all things curious about the world of Italian food culture!
This year, alongside the monthly newsletter, you’ll find short Morsels of stories and insights on Instagram. Both the social Morsels and the newsletter will follow a monthly theme that has the purpose of focusing our narration and uncovering even more in-depth stories. The theme will be revealed at the end of each month, in the newsletter, but by paying close attention to the Morsels you might figure it out beforehand. The latest news is that every issue will now be accompanied by beautiful illustrations produced by Chiara, a dear friend with a gift for drawing (go follow her!).
Coffee is synonymous with Italy, and its consumption is a true ritual for most people, whether it is drinking an espresso at the same bar each morning, having a favorite Moka to make it with or mug to drink it in or the people with whom its consumption is shared. Each town has its own coffee culture and unique beverage, from Trieste’s own coffee vocabulary to Lecce’s caffè leccese or Valle d’Aosta’s grolla dell’amicizia.
Scent of a Coffee
By Alberto Trame: Passionate about Italy’s gastronomic and wine heritage; curious about every story in the realm of food culture.
How can the mere scent of a cup of coffee so profoundly impact our senses? How can its pure and simple aroma boost us with optimism and energy? The fragrance we are so familiar with is the smell of freshly roasted coffee, which contains an incredible variety of scent molecules. Over one thousand nuances touch our olfactory cells and reach our brain to evoke a kaleidoscope of sensory memories.
During the roasting process, green coffee beans take on their characteristic dark brown colour and develop four fundamental components: taste, body, colour and aroma. This is nothing other than the result of the extraordinary alchemy of over eight hundred aromatic principles possessed by a drink that has up to five times the tasting notes of wine.
Three key flavours of coffee beans are controlled in the roasting process: acidity, sweetness and bitterness. The longer the beans are roasted, the less acidic and the more bitter the coffee will be. This of course depends on the type of roasting and bean varieties used.
Industrial roasters tend to buy coffee beans at lower prices which have a poor quality, with often some defects. A very dark roast is used to hide them, which results in hints of burnt flavours and overrides the aromatic notes of coffee.
On the other hand, artisan roasters — and the rising wave of specialty coffees — are associated with higher quality of coffee beans, lighter roasts (and colours) and a broader aromatic profile, all obtained alongside a controlled supply chain, higher payment to farmers and a greater interest in sustainability.
Exposed to the perfume of a good coffee and its myriad of olfactory nuances, we detect scents that our brain cannot always distinguish precisely: notes of caramel, hints of freshly-baked bread, chocolatey fragrances, fruity scents, touches of citrus, aromas of dried fruits, and so on.
A mere olfactory perception transforms into a journey of taste that begins before the first sip. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that, when coffee is roasted, its scent, spreading throughout the entire space — and outside, in all the neighborhood — becomes a powerful attraction for everyone. Experts in the field can tell a good coffee apart from a mediocre one from its scent alone. It’s no surprise this dark and bitter drink has been successful for so long and in so many places.
Italy has a significant tradition linked to coffee, which hasn’t gone hand in hand with the culture surrounding the consumption per se. Luckily, the landscape is changing: those who try high-quality coffee rarely go back. Micro-roasteries are gradually re-emerging throughout the country, just like the proliferation of craft breweries two decades ago.
In Venice, amongst the souvenir stores and cicchetti bars, lies one of the last remaining “torrefazioni” in the whole of the floating city, Torrefazione Cannaregio. Founded in 1930, a time when cafés - the latest social space - were being opened across the piazze and portici of Italian cities. In those days, visiting a café and enjoying the popular beverage whilst sitting at one of the venue’s tables was a true ritual.
Single-origin bean coffees, with all their nuances of taste, depth and persistence, speak of their territory and of the surrounding environment. Similar to good wine, a great coffee contains numerous characteristic flavours such as bitterness, in beans from Central America (Jamaica, Guatemala, Costa Rica), vanilla and spices in African beans (Kenya, Ethiopia) or herbaceous and vegetal notes in Indian beans.
How many elements hidden in a cup, how many different expressions in an espresso!
The Moka’s Grandma
by Francesco Pellegrini: wine lover, obsessed with NY cheesecake and nature photography fan.
I’ve been living in the United States for just a few days and the first form of homesickness showing up is coffee. American coffee is probably more “functional”, as in that once prepared, half a litre is always available and you don’t need to head to the nearest café for a cup. Yet, in terms of taste, it has nothing to do with the classic espresso enjoyed on the counter of your local bar or a morning coffee prepared with a moka, both with an incomparable intensity and aroma.
To match the intensity and aroma of a moka or a barista machine, a third instrument can be operated. Unknown to most people yet older than the famous moka is the cuccumella, the Neapolitan coffee maker. Gradually substituted with the moka due to the latter’s ease and speed of use, its history is nonetheless vital.
La cuccumella - from cuccuma, a copper vessel, the material with which the first coffee makers were made with - was born in France yet perfected in Naples, where its use spread rapidly.
The main differentiating factor with its successor (the moka) is the physical principle used. In a moka, steam pressure from the tank pushes vapour up through the filter, whereas the cuccumella relies on the force of gravity.
How is that possible? Composed by two almost-identical tanks, a cuccumella is placed on the stove with water in its lower tank - rigorously 5mm below the valve - and a coffee filter separates it from the tank on top. Once the water boils and steam rises up and out, the cuccumella is removed from the flame and rotated 180° so that it is up-side-down. The boiling water, which is now in the upper tank, falls through the coffee filter and into the tank below. Then, the waiting game begins. Up to 10 minutes are needed at times to ensure the coffee is ready, one of the reasons why the instrument is quickly disappearing.
In a world where coffee is speedily consumed, the wait is intolerable. But as I write from the United States, let me tell you, for a taste of a good Italian coffee such as one made with a cuccumella I would gladly wait even an hour!
On the sweet note of a Caffè Leccese
by Benedetta Mangini: twenty-something, lover of all cuisines - yet Italian foodie at heart
It may not be the season for iced coffee yet, however, as the heat approaches one must be prepared to abandon their cappuccinos and lattes for something more refreshing.
As in many of my previous stories, this one too stems from a very specific longing for a delicacy that I usually only consume back in Puglia. Yet, due to its simplicity, the drink I speak of today can be easily recreated by us unlucky souls living away from the motherland.
You will need:
A moka (or alternative espresso-making instrument)
Ground coffee with an intense organoleptic profile
Ice cubes
Caffè leccese is a flavour of the past, a piece of gastronomic history which predates iced oat lattes and matcha teas. Long before these new drinks became known to Italians, the summer heat called for the invention of an incredibly simple, yet flavourful, combination: a boiling hot shot of espresso poured over a couple ice cubes and sweetened with a dash of almond syrup, which, for some reason, we still mistakenly call almond milk.
The invention came about in the café owned by Antonio Quarta, back in the 1950s, when his was the only bar selling blocks of ice to Lecce’s inhabitants. Although the presence of iced coffee in Italy can be traced back to the influence of our Spanish Aragonian colonisers, the above is the commonly known version of how caffè leccese came about.
I promise to delve deeper into the exploration of the history of coffee in southern Italy, and for the time being invite you to try this effortlessly delicious treat, whose flavour will allow you to discover the sweet pleasure of sipping caffè leccese on a lazy beach day.
P.S. If you struggle to find Italian almond syrup, here’s a recipe to make it yourself!
Great piece. As a Neapolitan, I make a ponderate use of the cuccuma: it's reserved for the weekend, when I don't have to work and I have time to enjoy the wait for the coffee and a longer drinking with a good reading.
Also, I love Torrefazione Cannaregio, one of the best coffee I've ever had in Italy!