A Cuppa Joe By Any Other Name

In a matchup between a capuccino at Starbucks and one from just about any coffee bar in Italy, Starbucks is left in the dust by 1,6 kilometri di campagna, which works out to a country mile. The foam in the American version has the unserious consistency of bubble bath, as opposed to the dense, rich Italian original. When ordering a coffee in Italy, one does well to know what one's doing. Tourists from the U.S. often stick with caffe americano, just a regular cup of java with the feel and taste of warm dishwater. It's usually served with a look of pity. Order un caffe in Rome and you get the mother of all coffee, the espresso, a quick intense jolt that heads straight for the veins. Then there's the doppio, which is the same thing doubled, a body slam to the system, and the lungo, or elongated coffee, with hot water added so that it's weaker but not nearly as insipid as the americano. Put a few drops of milk in the espresso and it's caffe macchiato, which translates as "stained." But my favorite is the caffe corretto, or "corrected coffee," un espresso given added authority by the addition of a shot of brandy or whiskey. Now that's a way to get the day started.