“What’s your usual coffee order when you’re back home then?” I asked @vanbliss. We were tucking in to a huge plate of falafel and houmous at a modest food joint in Cancun, but clearly my mind was elsewhere. George used to own a coffee company and so I was interested to hear his opinion. “A latte probably”, he answered. “Interesting… not a flat white then?” I prompted, to which he (much to my amusement) responded, “God.. flat whites wind me up”.
This started a conversation around there not being much of a difference between a flat white and a latte. We discussed that often, when the coffee itself is great, you can’t particularly taste a difference between the two seeing as the milk to coffee ratio is not that far off (depending on where you choose to get your fix).
An iced latte with oat milk and a slice of banana bread in a vegan cafe - Merida, Yucatàn, Mexico
It made me think about my usual coffee order back home - a mocha with oat milk (and an iced one in the summertime). I know this may be highly offensive to some, and I’m basically cheating by adding chocolate and oats to my cup of coffee, but it’s bloody good. I have tried nearly all of the oat milk mochas in my local area, and have definitely found the best one.
A cappuccino with oat milk - San Cristobal de Las Casas, Chiapas, Mexico
You see, usually when I go out for a coffee, it’s with company. Something to be shared with a friend. And therefore what better thing to share than a moment of pure indulgence?
My daily cup of coffee differs from this. It is basically an americano with oat milk. And the coffee itself isn’t too fancy - Nescafé Azera Intenso (a strong contender amongst instant coffee powders). What I miss about this daily cup of coffee, though, is the ritual I developed around it. We are creatures of routines and rituals after all. I would wake up, knowing that that cup was waiting for me on the other side of my bowl of oats. And I couldn’t wait. It was my favourite part of the morning.
I’d heat my oat milk first, in my preferred black coffee mug, in the microwave. Whilst the kettle boiled, I would slowly stir the coffee powder in my mug, so that it created a perfectly blended mixture to pour water into. Pouring the water in to this mixture was super satisfying to watch as the colours would slowly change from a deep mahogany to a warmer brown. I’d then take this cup, that I had very lovingly concocted, to my bedroom. It would then be my companion to sip on slowly whilst I journaled, or listened to music, or scrolled through my phone, revelling in this moment to myself before the noise of the day would roll in.
An americano to have with breakfast - El Valle de Anton, Panama
Travelling through Latin-America has turned my relationship with coffee into something else entirely. In fact, it’s barely even a relationship anymore. I end up downing a whole cup, black, as an accompaniment to my breakfast. Just to wash it all down. Sometimes I browse for independent coffee shops wherever I am and soak up the feeling of being in that environment. Other times I treat myself to sugar-free almond/oat milk from the supermarket to add to the americano that I have become accustomed to drinking (if you had told me this 4 months ago I never would’ve believed you). But these are treats.
When I really think about it, it turns out that my relationship with coffee is entirely dependent on where I happen to be in the world, who I’m with, and often, what I’m choosing to chomp down on alongside my favourite caffeinated beverage.
