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| I thought it would be sad to ask for a Christmas cup, so I had to make do... |
Being a sucker for big brands, I like my coffee in
not just any cup, but one that’s emblazoned with a Starbucks logo. I’m one of
those people who gets excited when the red Christmas cups arrive, and starts
posting Facebook status updates about it. The extent of my addiciton is illustrated by the fact I'm drinking a gingerbread latte at the precise moment I'm typing this...
I know what you’re thinking at this point and the unashamed answer
is yes; I have succumb to the world of the coffee conglomerate.
Let’s face it, it happens to all of us city dwellers at
some point. It doesn’t matter if you opt for the Seattle-born green camp or its
burgundy branded Italian rivals, phrases such as “double shot”, “extra foam”
and “skinny decaff” will work their way in to your day-to-day vocabulary, and
some mornings just aren't tolerable without a grande americano in hand.
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| The ad from Costa that caused some controversy. ASA may have agreed, but I beg to differ. |
Despite my love affair with the global chain and its
convoluted coffee concoctions (skinny, sugar free hazelnut, triple shot latte
anyone?), there’s room for an altogether different coffee love in my life. The
difference? This one’s of the short, sweet and Greek variety.
The way I see it, Greek coffee makes for an honest and
simple brew that’s saved for a separate occasion to the one you just bought
from your nearest Starbucks. In Cyprus, it could be women taking a break from
their daily routines to catch up on the local gossip, or men congregating at
the local Kafeneio to play a spot of tavli and watch the world go by. While
early mornings in London find bleary-eyed commuters queuing up for their liquid
wake-up call, coffee keeps a different meaning in Cyprus – it acts as the
social glue which brings people together.
Even the young folk are getting in on the act. Nowadays,
many Greek twenty-somethings will find themselves meeting up with their mates
at the local café to catch up on the latest news while smoking one too many
cigarettes. Essentially, there’s only one way to define it - the coffee shop is
to Greeks what the local pub is to Brits.
Served in a demitasse cup, Greek coffee comes in one of
three simple ways – plain (sketo), medium (metrios) and sweet (gliko). No
hazelnut/caramel/vanilla (delete as appropriate) syrup in sight.
If you fancy making a cup of your own, here’s exactly how
to do it. I’ve included the odd insider tip too, courtesy of my Yiayia
Androula.
Coffee? Check. Feet up? Check. Now, all you need is your fave newspaper…
TLC x
Utensils/Ingredients
Embriki (a special looking copper pot)
Demitasse cups
Glasses
1 teaspoon greek coffee (the ground stuff – forget
instant!)
1 or 2 teaspoons sugar (for those who like it metrios or
gliko)
Water
1. Place the Embriki on a low heat, and add water (use the
demitasse cup to measure the amount of water you need for each)
2.
Add sugar (if using) to the water and simmer
3. Add 1 heaped teaspoon of coffee per cup, stir once and
then heat slowly until it comes to the boil and foam has formed on the surface
(Factoid: In Greek, the foam is called “kaimaki”. If you don’t allow the
kaimaki to form, your coffee won’t taste the same)
4.
Take off the heat and pour into your cup. Serve
immediately accompanied by a glass of water
Insider tips…
· Pour a little coffee in each cup, to make sure each has an even froth, before pouring the
remainder of the coffee in.
·
The “Embriki” comes in different sizes. If only making the occasional coffee, use a
small size, but if you regularly making coffee for more than one, buy the
larger size. Usually you will find
these, as well as the coffee, sold in many Greek, Turkish or Middle-Eastern
shops
·
Make sure you hold the embriki by the handle at
all times, and keep an eye on it – it’ll come to the boil very quickly!
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