venta

A couple of years ago, at a comedy gig, Stewart Lee burst onto the stage, thrust a microphone at me, and demanded "What's your favourite high-street coffee shop?"

My immediate response was that I didn't have one. I don't. If I'm out and fancy a sit down and a drink, I'll probably go to a pub. And if I want a hot drink I'd always sooner go to an independent cafe than to one of the big chains. Yes, it's more of a gamble going into an unknown shop. But it's so much more interesting than placing the Starbucks order you could place anywhere in the world.

However, the other problem is this: the Starbucks and the Costas and the Caffee Neros of this world pride themselves on their coffee. The quality of their coffee, the roasts of the beans, the loving care with which they froth milk, and the pretty patterns they put on the top. Sitting down for a coffee is an experience, a little bit of quality time. It's a nice thing to do.

I like coffee. Sadly, coffee doesn't like me. If I drink it I get jittery, stomach-achey and nasueous. I used to drink coffee all the time, but at some point at university a switch in my guts flipped. No coffee for me. And not too much tea either - but a mug or two will be fine. So if I walk into a Starbucks or a Costa or a Caffe Nero, I order tea. Which is a shame, because I really like coffee.

And actually? They don't make great tea. Dump bag in cup, throw in coffee-temperature water, help yourself to milk. And not even so much as a chocolate-sprinkles heart shape on the top (thankfully). It doesn't have the crafsmanship that they seem to throw into coffee. No one ever advertises that they do great tea. No one cares that much (which is ironic, in England). Even if they've made me a tolerable cup of tea, there's always the thought: I could make better tea than this at home.

If I went home and made my own tea it'd be nicer, and it'd be cheaper. It wouldn't come in a ridiculously fancy teapigs cloth bag, it'd be Ringtons' Northumbrian, and that's just how I like it. I might even break out the looseleaf, the fat black teapot, and the lurid cosy my parents' nextdoor neighbour knitted for it.

So no, I don't hang out much in coffee shops[*].

Last year I turned up at a friend's house, and she offered me a coffee. She has one of these tiny pod-munching Nespresso machines, and takes her coffee seriously. I declined, reminding her it made me go all peculiar. She pointed out that at 7 months pregnant she was no longer drinking rocket fuel either, did I want decaf?

Now. I've never drunk coffee for the caffeine. I used to think that - working late at night as a student - coffee woke me up. After some experimentation, I discovered it was the act of getting up and making it that woke me up. Coffee worked, tea worked even better (because it involved a walk to the fridge for milk). Frankly, hot milk worked fine for waking me up.

But everyone knows decaf is horrible, right? Well known thing about decaf.

However, Cathy served me a posh decaf espresso in a silly little cup. And it was lovely. It tasted like coffee. I honestly wouldn't have known it was decaf. It was just like drinking an espresso and I didn't feel crap for the rest of the day. Win!

Then last week, I observed

snow_leopard ordering a decaf coffee in a coffee shop, and I thought hey! I could possibly do that. So on Friday, I did. I was not at work, and was heading across London to hop on a train to my parents' house.

I popped into the Electric Coffee Company (né Cafe Freddo) on Haven Green, and I ordered a decaf latte. I felt a bit silly, because decaf is for wimps and health-freaks, but the nice chap behind the counter didn't seem to notice.

And they brought me my latte, and it looked, smelled and tasted just like a real one. And it had a twiddly little milk fern shape on the top. It was, quite clearly, better than any form of latte I could make for myself at home. And I drank it, and thoroughly enjoyed my latte-consumption experience.

I wonder if I'm ready and willing to come out as a decaf drinker :)

[*] In Caffe Nero[**] last week with Snow_Leopard I ordered the twice-the-price-of-regular-hot-chocolate "Chocolate Milano", and it was actually pretty good. I was impressed. But it was practically a pudding.

[**] Which was almost empty, while the interesting-looking independent establishment four doors down was rammed. Which also made me happy.