I come from a family of enthusiastic coffee drinkers. Before babycinos were invented, I sat with my mother while she had a cappuccino and I was allowed a spoonful of chocolatey froth off the top. In my first year of university, my mother called me for the sole purpose of excitedly reporting my younger brother had had his first coffee. (You'll be pleased to know he wasn't four but of a legal coffee drinking age) In our family, coffee isn't merely a hit of caffeine to gird the loins, but a social punctuation in the day, a chance to catch up with family of friends or enjoy a quiet moment on your own reading the paper, or more likely in my family, to draw up extensive 'to do' lists. However, in recent years, going out for coffee with mum had been a cause of embarrassment. When it comes time to order, she first makes sure she locks eyes with the unsuspecting server, and then, with over annunciated words like she's speaking to a toddler says "I'd like a strong, HOT latte please". If social decorum didn't have to be regarded you could be sure she would stand up, grab the server's head between her hands, put her face only inches away from theirs, and like a boxing trainer giving a pep talk to his bloodied novice, look them in the eyes and in a gravelly voice say "Make my latte fucking HOT you prick". After mum orders I wait in trepidation for our coffees to be served. At least 50% of the time Mum has a sip, screws up her face, clunks the cup back on the saucer and says with disgust. 'It's not HOT".
Well dear mother, you will be pleased to know that I no longer will squirm in my seat when you say these words, I will no longer smile sweetly at the waiter as if to apologise for a slightly senile parent. Because enough is enough.
Firstly, may I say we are certainly blessed in Melbourne to have a thriving coffee scene. There are few places in the world you can feel safe in going to pretty much any no-name cafe and getting a decent coffee. No, it might not be single trade and the espresso might not be pulled by a bearded hipster who freshly shat the coffee beans that morning, but generally it will be okay. And I am a bit of a coffee snob, so I do love that we have so many cafes taking coffee seriously. It's wonderful to be able to try freshly roasted single origins from around the world, take part in cuppings, and write poetry over a cold drip that's been extracting for 8 to 10 hours.
But for god's sake, what is wrong with making the coffee HOT? I know that the coffee tastes better at a certain temperature and NO, when I ask for a hot coffee I do NOT mean I want it so scalding that it loses all flavour. But when I am increasingly paying up to $4 for a latte, I actually want to enjoy it. I would like to be able to sip it, rather than knock it back like a shot of vodka because if I don't it will be stone cold by the time I finish typing this sentence.
In certain establishments asking for a hot coffee is met with scorn. If you are talking to a barista who has taken to wearing a t-shirt bearing the chemical symbol for caffeine they are likely to inform you of the optimal temperature for serving coffee and then stare at you, forcing you into submission. To get your coffee hot you have to be strategic. I have started asking for my coffee "a bit hotter than normal" because if you come right out with it and ask for it hot the barista is likely to burn the milk just out of spite.
But generally, I end up bending the knee to the 21 year old barista who stares at me from high above with their advanced barista certificate in non-traditional brewing methods hanging from the wall. So after waiting ten minutes to order my coffee, I give them the benefit of the doubt. I don't ask for it hot, I just simply ask for a Strong Flat White and I ask in a perfectly pleasant voice. I sit down, wait ten minutes for the coffee to arrive, take a sip, and yes, it's lukewarm. The energy I would expel in taking the coffee back, the strong gesture in returning it, is often just too much for this people-pleaser to bear.
So I sit there, and stew (but only for a minute because that's how long it takes for me to finish my coffee). When I get up to leave I scrape my chair back in a final, childish act. I walk into the cool day outside, and scream to the world "Make my latte fucking HOT you prick!!".