“where coffee is culture”

 

Musing upon the autumn rain and the fallen leaves, my mind is wistful with thoughts of the old Viennese charm and its cafés.

.... many stories are wafting across my memory. It is a summer afternoon and as I sit under tall leafy trees in a “Schanigarten”(a typical Viennese outdoor sittings on public sidewalk), sipping my coffee, absorbed in my reading, a sudden commotion gets my attention, as she pulls her chair out. We have been sitting next to each other’s tables for some time, enjoying our own company; perhaps our eyes met a couple of times and we did acknowledge our existence with silent smiles. I turn my sight towards her table, she is already standing looking at me, and her eyes say it all – an implicit request to keep my eyes on her table while she is away getting another cup of coffee.

I do not know anything about her, nor does she know me, we are two complete strangers. Still she trusts me with her belongings scattered around the table. I quickly scan her table… a pack of cigarettes, her sunglasses sitting on top of a book, a lighter, an empty coffee cup. Her book intrigues me…..

It brings back memories of Bologna, going to the open market with my chef teachers Mario or Davida, stopping at the cafés, they are good friends with the barista, chatting in Italian (I did not understand their conversation), sipping our macchiato in a glass on our way to the open market to buy fresh veggie, fish or meat for that day’s cooking class. I was daydreaming ….and before I know, she is standing near me holding her fresh coffee and wearing a very friendly smile. She takes her chair and comfortably settles herself.

“I read this book years ago,” I say. I tell her that this book inspired me to become interested in Italian culinary. I had gone to a culinary school in Bologna, Italy a couple of times, to learn Italian cooking from the natives. She was a lovely Austrian girl. After her graduation in Business she worked for a corporate office till a couple of weeks ago. Now she was planning a trip to soon go to Far East Asia. Miserable after breaking off from her German boyfriend, she is finding “Eat, Pray, Love” an interesting and comforting book.

Viennese cafes, with their slower pace and a unique character - I could meet complete strangers and talk on life’s important matters for hours - by the end we knew each other’s life stories but would hardly know each other’s names. But the impressions left by strangers in Viennese cafes still resonate deep in my soul.

“Drinking coffee and tea in cafes exist all over the world, but Viennese café culture indeed has a distinct character as a social and cultural institution across European cities”. No wonder in 2011, UNESCO listed Vienna coffeehouses as an “intangible cultural heritage”. The Viennese coffee house is a place “where time and space are consumed, but only the coffee is found on the bill.” Freud, Klimt, Trotsky…. frequented their favorite cafes in the peak of fin-de-siècle (at the turn of the century). Some of those 19-century cafes are still functioning  preserving the indoor décor as a reminder of their extravagant past: walls of old Biedermeier paneling, the crystal chandeliers, antique mirrors with golden frames, daily newspapers kept in holders of bamboo or hardwood, the periodicals in brown covers, waiters, mostly men, dressed in black.…. everything is connected to a rich history. Although Vienna’s Kaffehauskulture has evolved a lot since then, the cafes still are the city’s heart and soul.

I marvel at the solitary moments of my sojourning days in Vienna. I used to linger on peacefully in a café, immersed in my thoughts, hearing sounds of glasses and cutlery clanging, and the murmur of a crowd of people chatting, laughing and enjoying life. I am fascinated how the cafes with their beverages, smells, sights and sounds have had a dramatic impact on intellectual history in the late 19^th and early 20^th century. The coffeehouse was an essential part of Viennese living then – as it is now.

I remember a snugly chic coffee shop nestled in old architecture, in the newly gentrified second district of Vienna, Leopold Stadt. Balthasar is not a typical Viennese coffeehouse. The inside has a Nordic minimalist ambience - its low coffee bar with two big espresso machines on it, various paraphernalia to support the craft of coffee making, and the baristas working carrying out their tasks in a large workspace. Everything is carefully designed to bring the third wave artisanal coffee to coffee geeks. In my ears, I hear friendly baristas making expresso shots - talking to coffee aficionados, telling them the stories of coffee beans and roasting methods. I never had “flat white” espresso coffee drink till I came to Vienna. My ignorance was soon whisked away by a super friendly Balthasar barista. She took me through all the stages of making the espresso shot and the art of preparing the flat white espresso drink. Vienna is now home to many coffee shops where  making coffee is treated as an art. 

“Toasting process is the key, that brings out the finest taste of the beans.” It was such an enriching experience - watching her closely as she precisely poured steamed milk in a cup containing two shots of espresso. Just a thin layer of steamed milk, no foam on top. I could get a glimpse of my latte art a leaf-like rosette. I was ready to have my first flat white!

I learnt later the story of the flat white specialty espresso drink globalizing, spreading the hot drink around the world - it was invented in New Zealand and got perfected in Australia - how  food and drink cultures have typically evolved through history.  Legend has it that a barista accidentally invented the flat white when he failed to forth the milk for a frothy cappuccino and said, “sorry it’s a flat white”!  Although it is not a Viennese coffee drink, the flat white coffee has symbolized the “third wave” coffee scene in Vienna coffeehouses for past few years. Now the “third wave” coffee has become an overly exciting addition to the Vienna coffee culture.

 

I find an empty table by the window, although the windows are opaque with condensation. The morning vibes at Balthasar is great. I am enticed by the coffee smell wafting through the air.  The café is packed with sipping espresso drinkers: some holding a newspaper, some tapping away on their laptops or gently flipping through books, not so much talking to the others in the café. I sit down with my flat white and almond croissant (the best in Vienna). My friend Kathy had once said, “If you want your almond croissant, get there before ten in the morning” (she frequents Balthasar, now I do too).

 

I am in ecstasy – taking bites of my almond croissant and sipping my flat white. Her soft announcement wafts into my ears, her wish is to share my table. I look up and immediately move my stuff, she can perch her coffee cup on the table now. Then I notice a high-end professional camera attached with a telephoto lens, dragging her petite shoulder down.

 

“These new cafes have a smaller number of tables”. Her friendly voice is a hint of a possible intimate conversation. A French freelance journalist, she had just flown into Vienna the night before. She is sharing a flat with her local friend in the corner of Praterstrasse, a few blocks away from Balthasar. She has a Parisian beauty, and a perkiness in her appearance. We are soon talking about Paris coffee, café culture and the new move of “third wave” coffee. Her current project is to document the nascent rise of the “third wave” specialty coffee scene in Vienna.

 

The French history of gastronomy had never considered coffee as something that could be artisanal until recently. Over the past few years some good coffee shops have been opened by Australians, Americans and the English with new craft roasters and cafes. Generally, the French are averse to change. Her travel brings her to experience the changing coffee scene around the globe. She watches the enthusiasm among coffee connoisseurs to learn more about the coffee beans, improve their existing roasting method, the technique of pulling a shot of espresso – “so much goes into a cup of coffee”, she says with her charming smile, “although coffee has been built into the French lifestyle for almost four centuries, a classic cup of French coffee is over extracted and bitter. Paris is a city of café culture, not a city of coffee culture.” “Really”! I muse half aloud.