What your coffee order says about you

Nov 20, 2023

So how do you espresso yourself? Old school style cappuccino versus macho macchiato? Your order reveals a lot about you, says Richard Godwin

ou may have noticed that some Londoners take coffee really seriously. The days when you could find an honest Styrofoam of gravy-ish Nescafé in a Piccadilly greasy spoon are long gone. Gone too are the days when a macchiato was seen as vaguely metrosexual.

The new coffee elite are not content with chocolate sprinkles and cherry yum-yums. They have Chemex filters, Aeropress machines and think nothing of spending £9.50 on a single bag of Climpson & Sons coffee beans that they have to grind themselves, time itself being a luxury product in the modern metropolis. They create flavour wheels so as to measure the phenolic, leguminous and enzymatic qualities of their blend; not content with the flat white, they talk mistily of the cortado, the bicerin and the stumpy.

With so much choice, coffee is not only a pleasurable way to increase your productivity — it has become an index as to your personality, a bit like the band you wrote on your pencil case at school. Are you content with an EAT cappuccino? Or must it be a drip-filtered Monmouth? Do you Englishly agonise about how to phrase your order: "Do you think I might possibly have a latte, normal size, with a bit of hazelnut syrup please"? Or do you assert it like an American: "I’ll get a hazelnut latte"? I'm afraid people will judge you for this whether you like it or not.

Single-estate Ecuadorian organic aeropress black

You are very particular about your coffee but also proud of its no-nonsense serve — black, no sugar — which you feel reveals your essential decency. You justify the time/expense by turning the Antipodean cycle café in which it is served (complete w/ soda water and a nice little Portuguese custard tart) into your office, conducting calls to graphic design clients against the constant whirr of the espresso machine. In over-caffeinated moments, you worry if we’ve reached "peak beard".

Home-brew

You know that the smart consumer doesn't pay for coffee — so you make your own with the care with which you once rolled your spliffs. Specifically, £11.95 beans from Maltby Street market, stored in the refrigerator, ground fresh each morning in a Baratza Vario grinder, brewed in a Chemex filter you ordered online, decanted into a Thermos and sipped throughout morning meetings. "It works out so much cheaper than your daily latte order," you boast to colleagues. You may be right. But you might need to do some smugness-offsetting to make up for it.

At once utilitarian and subtly hip (in a Nighthawks at the Diner sort of way), filter is the normcore coffee choice par excellence. Pret's is a little bland but perfectly serviceable for 99p. Does the job.

Skinny latte

The Diet Coke of coffee. You mouth your order to barista mid-phonecall and leave in a click of Manolos, clutching venti flagon w/ left hand, little finger extended, arm crooked by designer handbag. You work in something high-powered (publishing? Finance? Fashion?) but the high-milk content of your coffee order is symptomatic of your need for comfort and escape. Incidentally, skimmed is more fattening than whole milk, so the ritual self-denial is pointless.

S oya flat white

It sounds so poncy, doesn't it? The epitome of hipster fussiness. But do you hear the apology in the voice? It is the tell-tale sign of the self-hating lactose intolerant. There are many who retain a mammalian fondness for dairy but are cursed by their digestive deficiencies. How they wish coffee shops just used Lactofree milk as standard.

Cappuccino

The original "fancy coffee order" has regained a certain no-nonsense retro chic, a bit like Christy Turlington or Nirvana. You aspire to dress in Céline, holiday in Rome, read Penguin Modern Classics and know only to order it for breakfast, never after dinner.

In stant

"Builder's coffee". White, two sugars. Said to be making a comeback in certain corners of Peckham and Hackney, a little like how US hipsters express solidarity w/ working man by opting for Dunkin’ Donuts over Starbucks.

Hot chocolate

You think you’re virtuous by cutting out caffeine but actually you’ve just replaced it with sugar — which is literally worse than heroin. You communicate in emojis, like Miley Cyrus for her actual songs, view Haribo Star Mix as a passable dinner and have a GI-inspired tantrum mid-morning.

Initially, you never learned to like coffee, but lack the brazenness simply to order a hot chocolate. You pass through life without touching the walls, compromising on career and relationship until a midlife crisis at 47 inspires you to open a crafts retreat in Bali.

Frappuccino

Grow up. Seriously.

Double macchiato in a medium cup, hot milk, no foam

You are an urban intellectual in a pressurised position. You have a hard time schooling the corporate idiots who took over your workplace franchise in the niceties of your order, which is PERFECTLY F*****G SIMPLE. OK? Double… NO! Did I ASK for CHOCOLATE?! Argh!

Single espresso

You aspire to Milanese cool, taking little bumps of caffeine much in the way you wish you could your women. In truth you are never quite satisfied, so always return to the coffee outlet for more, never quite figuring out that one double espresso is much cheaper than two singles. This is probably what's wrong with the Italian economy.

Double espresso

You have a deadline in less than one hour.

Triple espresso

You have a deadline in less than 10 minutes and will wake up at 4am with jaw pain, having had a weird dream about Theresa May.

You’re an idiot.

Double half-caf extra hot soya nut latte

An English person is incapable of ordering this. I’m guessing you’re American.

I just want a white coffee! Why can't I get a white coffee anymore?

You are suspicious of change and lack the courtesy to phrase your order in a way that might make your minimum wage Lithuanian server's day a little easier. You prefer dogs to people, hate the metric system and are thinking of voting Ukip. What you want is a White Americano.

So yeah, can you do like something halfway between a double espresso and an Americano, not sure what it's called, maybe a long black or something but basically not too much water, like a half cup, essentially, a strong black coffee, ha ha, is that ok?

You are the 21st-century equivalent of the superfluous man/woman. You have a modest request: a coffee that is not too strong nor too weak, ie, what you would get if you ordered a coffee in a country where the majority of the population actually likes coffee. Your server seems mystified. They might understand your order in the artisanal coffee shop down the road, but the problem is they charge £3.50. You are struggling to raise the deposit for your first home; your daughter has a weird rash; you are wondering whether your creative industries job will ever pay off your student debt. As you try to explain, the near impossibility of making yourself understood feels symptomatic of a deeper urban malaise.

De caff

Get out.

Coffee alchemists are infusing cold brew with nitrogen to give it a smooth, Guinness-like texture Read about the technique and where to get your fix

Step away from the latte and put down that cappuccino: milk is out. If you really are into your coffee, surprise your barista by ordering a cortado or a piccolo Read why milk is out and shots are in

London's cafés have pretty much nailed good quality hot coffee, but what about its cold counterpart? Here's where to get your coffee on the rocks

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