Italy Insider: We Came For The Coffee

Undrinkable

I understand the sentiment voiced by Abraham Lincoln (who, among other accomplishments, was quite witty) when he allegedly said:

If this is tea, bring me coffee, but if this is coffee, bring me tea.

While the origins of this quip have been thoroughly dissected by such spoilsports as quoteinvestigator.com, I prefer to think old Abe actually said it.  And if not, surely Mark Twain did. Either way, the sentiment stuck with me for years. Lincoln’s coffee cup, pictured here, is part of the Smithsonian Collection. 

I vividly remember trying to drink the coffee from my mother’s percolator (my mother-in-law had one too) and wondering why anyone would willingly begin their day with such misery. Both relied on Maxwell House, which, despite claiming to use only Arabica beans, still lacked a pleasing flavor and aroma. I chose tea instead.

Drinkable

I first realized coffee could actually be good during a stint at a Goethe Institute outpost in Germany, where I was improving my German. Breakfast offered two options: coffee or hot chocolate—no tea, just water or juice as alternatives. To my surprise, the coffee didn’t have that weak-kneed “dishwater” taste (or at least what I imagined dishwater tasted like—I had never actually sampled it). Later, when my husband and I traveled to France, the coffee was even better. We thought we had reached the pinnacle of coffee perfection.

And then we went to Italy.

The Summit Of Coffee

During a trip to track down our wandering daughters, we stayed at a hotel in Rome. That first morning, we sipped the hotel’s espresso and looked at each other in disbelief. How could coffee taste this good? Even a French friend of ours later admitted, somewhat bitterly: “Well, yes, the Italians are at the summit of coffee—we all know that.”

This partially explains the explosive popularity of Starbucks, with its Italian espresso machines and faux-Italian terminology (grande, venti, trenta). Yet I still don’t understand why anyone would want to drink 20 or 30 ounces of high-priced coffee-flavored milk—especially with ice cubes melting in it—while walking around. By contrast, one of the great pleasures of being in Italy, whether in a bustling city or a quiet village, is the ability to stop, stand up or sit down as you wish, and enjoy a coffee (or a spremuta, freshly squeezed orange juice in a glass) served in an actual ceramic cup—not plastic or paper (although COVID briefly changed that).

For all the romanticized notions about Italian coffee consumption, Italy isn’t even near the top in terms of volume. Finland holds first place, followed by Norway and Iceland. Italy lingers in 18th place, nestled between Macedonia and Canada. The United States comes in at a humbling 22nd.

From Pharmacy to Coffee Bar

So how did Italy become synonymous with good coffee, the invention of  espresso and such delights as cappuccino, macchiato, affogato, corretto, and my summer favorite, the shakerato? It all traces back to the Venetian Republic.

In the 16th and 17th centuries, Venice’s maritime empire dominated trade with the Middle East, North Africa, and far-flung parts of Asia. Among the exotic goods brought back to the city was coffee. Venetian botanist Prospero Alpini “discovered” coffee in Egypt, and by the late 1500s, Venetian pharmacies were selling it—not as a pleasure drink, but as medicine.

Ironically, it was the Venetians’ former enemies-turned-trading-partners, the Ottomans, who popularized coffee as a social beverage. At first, it was viewed with suspicion in Catholic Italy, as a profane drink favored by infidels. Legend has it that around 1600, Pope Clement VIII, after tasting it, declared that Satan’s drink was too delicious to leave to the infidels alone. By 1763, Venice boasted over 200 coffee houses, where intellectuals, artists, and the elite gathered to gossip and debate. The infidels were associating with much better company.

More than any other country exposed to the mystical properties of the coffee bean, Italy devoted serious brainpower to improving how coffee is made. Personally, I believe design and craftsmanship are simply in the Italian DNA—the way theater is embedded in the British one. Even the famously French Hermès company manufactures many of its scarves in the Veneto region. And I was surprised to learn that the French press we used to import actually originated with two Italian designers.

The most iconic symbol of Italian coffee culture, the Bialetti Moka pot, is more common in Italian households today than a crucifix. But the journey to the modern espresso machine began with a more industrial invention. In 1884, Angelo Moriondo of Turin patented the first steam-powered coffee machine for an exposition. Steam, however, is tricky to control, which led to further innovations.

Enter Luigi Bezzera and Desiderio Pavoni. Bezzera refined Moriondo’s design, while Pavoni improved the engineering. Together, they introduced the world to  an espresso antecedent  at the 1906 Milan Fair. The early machines ran on open flame, then gas, and finally electricity, which made it possible to heat water with precision.

By the mid-20th century, espresso technology reached new heights. Achille Gaggia, a Milanese café owner, perfected the lever-driven system after World War II. This increased pressure from 2 to 9 atmospheres—a significant leap. (For those of us who barely passed high school science, that means nine times the pressure exerted by the earth’s atmosphere.) This innovation not only produced a faster, more flavorful espresso but also created the golden foam known as crema. According to a coffee supplier from Verona, proper crema should account for 25% of a well-made espresso shot.

Espresso Amore

What I love most about espresso is its bold flavor and intoxicating aroma, all packed into a tiny cup with remarkably little caffeine compared to a standard brewed coffee. It wasn’t the end goal of centuries of Italian tinkering, but to me, that one perfect ounce represents the height of coffee craftsmanship.

And it is, without question, drinkable. If this is coffee, bring me more.