moflo-your online guide to Florence

In brief

Espresso:

8 grams of fresh ground coffee – literally just ground.

Pack down with 15-20 kilos of pressure

Run the machine for 20-30 seconds to produce 20-30cl of coffee, ideally 25cl

Milk:

Aim to create crema not schiuma

Whole milk – at least 6% fat

Put steamer 25mm under the surface of the milk.

The top will form a creamy sphere and the bottom will stay liquid

Swill the milk jug so that the top and bottom parts mix evenly

The cream should be made up of micro-bubbles and be nice and thick.

Its not every day that you learn something genuinely important. Your average 24 hours might be occupied with acquiring knowledge regarding world affairs, a useful short cut or how to correctly perform the kiss of life. Rarely, though, do you have one of life's big questions answered in a definitive way, settling once and for all the doubts that had surrounded it. So it was for me during a fascinating cash & carry expo in the voluminous Fiera Milano complex in, yes, Milano.

Don't ask me why I was there but I was and it was early and I was disoriented and in need of a coffee. Then I saw a sign that led, like a dazzling star, to a promised event of monumental importance.

“How to make the perfect cappuccino – a demonstration by Italy's best barista”

“Perfect?” I asked myself as I took a seat in front row. I looked around and saw a lot of other faces that showed the same 'got up at 4.30am to get the flight here' expression that I was surely sporting. It occurred to me that anyone in the audience would have happily described anything even closely resembling a cup of coffee as 'perfect' at that point. After all, if you ask a man lost in the desert if he thinks your brand of bottled water is the best and he'll probably say yes.

I have to say I was expecting Italy's most distinguished coffee-maker to be a man or woman of some years, drawing upon decades of experience to get the drink in the cup in just the right way. I was a little surprised then as a fresh faced, spiky haired youngster was introduced to the subdued and travel-weary audience. He was obviously pleased to be there and had prepared an introductory speech. It covered the history of the cappuccino, the cultural significance of Italy's most famous morning drink and...well I'm not sure what else as my notes from that section of the presentation read “Too much energy, talking and hair gel, not enough coffee”.

Eventually, though, he got to the business end of the proceedings and began to explain the secrets of his trade. One theme disappointingly underpinned his whole philosophy; whereas I had expected the secret to perfection to be some deft flick of the wrist or magic ingredient, he placed his considerable faith and enthusiasm in cleaning. Cleaning the steam nozzle, cleaning the coffee-holder, cleaning the milk jug, using different cloths for each job, rinsing thoroughly and so on. He used culinary analogies to add gravitas, “Would you leave old pasta in the pan before cooking a new batch? NO, you wouldn't! The whole pan would be inedible...Would you leave your chopping board dirty or your frying pan caked in an old sauce?” Heads shook in the audience and I began to feel terribly guilty for having mentally replied “probably” to each of his would-be rhetorical questions.

After the cleaning lecture had been firmly pressed home, he described how the foundation of the perfect cappuccino is, of course, the coffee. You require 8g of freshly ground coffee, not as in a packet of supermarket “freshly ground coffee” but really, literally, in that moment freshly ground for this specific cup. He made no mention of which blends or flavours of coffee are best, uncharacteristically allowing room for subjectivity in that department. Once ground and dispensed into the coffee-holding handle thing, the coffee must be compressed under 15-20kg of pressure. He pointed out that many coffee grinders have a nub attached for you to pack the coffee with, BUT, as the average coffee grinder weighs around 6kg, it is impossible to achieve a sufficient amount of pressure without flinging the poor machine across the bar. So, a hand held (and, of course, very clean) coffee compactor is vital.

Having attached the coffee handle to the machine, the water must be activated immediately. Don't attach it and then reach for a cup – every second that passes with the handle attached increases the risk of burning the delicate grinds. Start the water, then place the cup underneath and let the coffee flow for somewhere between 20-30 seconds, producing 20-30cl of coffee. The ideal quantity was identified as 25cl.

On to the milk. I felt proud that I already knew that full-fat milk is essential. There is a scientific reason for this but as you may have already realised my note-taking was a little selective and I respect you all too much to go and make something up (try searching for milk on wikipedia or something). Having filled a wide-bottomed steel milk jug, place the steam nozzle 25mm below the surface of the milk. The steam itself, we were told, should be hot but not too hot. One should be able to quickly pass a hand under the jet without being scolded. Before I even had the chance to ask myself “But what if the steam is already too hot when you test it? Is perfection really worth a scolding?” the maestro was wowing the audience with a display of hand-risking bravado worthy of the crocodile hunter himself.

The idea of the steaming process is that the top half of the milk becomes a foam and the bottom half remains liquid while being heated. Done properly the steaming should produce a sphere of foam resting on the liquid. You must then swill the milk jug around to evenly mix the two layers. Our expert stressed that describing the end product as foam (schiuma) is misleading as you should be aiming to produce a cream (crema) of a thick and even consistency. This cream will, in a perfect world, consist of tiny micro-bubbles. A less fatty or fresh milk will produce larger bubbles; quite undesirable and certainly not perfect. When held on a spoon the crema should reluctantly drip off rather than pour. This part of the demonstration was being performed by an able assistant, with a large TV camera showing the inside of the jug on a big screen. When not documenting perfect milk crema, the camera wandered across the tired (and, frankly, slightly bored) faces in the audience, much to everyone's mutual early-morning disgust.

So, with the perfect coffee awaiting the perfect crema we witnessed, in full 48 inch flat-screen glory, the most eagerly awaited coming-together since the unificazione. The classic Italian cappuccino sees the milk poured directly into the middle of the coffee, pushing it outward to form a full black corona around the milk. I didn't taste the demonstration cup, (thus gratefully avoiding slurping for the camera) but I did try one made to his exacting standards nonetheless. It was, even in this cynic's opinion, a fine cappuccino. Much else happened that day but it was all softened by comparative irrelevance as I had already tasted perfection.

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