Cappuccino

Ineffably beautiful morning ballet class, from barre to reverance (the ballet equivalent of saying "from start to finish"). Followed by six hours of making, serving, grinding, and drinking coffee. Can life get any sweeter? Towards the end of my shift, I felt a sudden inclination to say to my co-worker:

"Is it weird that I actually like working here? I really like it."

"Shouldn't everyone like their job?" he replied.

"Yeah..."

"What's your favorite part of the job?"

I pondered the question for a few seconds before deciding that I most enjoyed learning how to make the different types of coffee drinks. Becoming familiar with the different roasts. Learning to make the perfect cup of cappuccino.

During my second shift, I was fortunate enough to work alongside an experienced, long-time employee who had me pull my first shots of espresso, which I used to make my first latte and cappuccino. He taught me a basic design-- the foam separated by arcing lines into three sections. I learned to loosen the brown liquid and use the foam to push it into the desired thin, curved line. My first design was shoddy; my second one was decent!

Of course, there are factors aside from the superficial design that are much more crucial to the actual taste of the cappuccino-- the quality of the steamed milk, the weight of the tamper, the weather outside. A lot of variable elements go into making a simple cup of cappuccino. But then again, I don't think most people would notice these tiny differences, even though they like to pretend to be elite coffee connoisseurs, ordering "wet cappuccinos" and other fancy nonsense.

The customers are kind and/or colorful. There are many who have been coming to La Colombe in Center City regularly for several years-- sometimes over a decade. There are several who treat it like it is their second home and play like they are members of an exclusive club. The employees know their customers inside and out. Above all, one thing is clear: the servers behind the bar are beloved by those they serve, and every day, hour by hour, minute by minute, the tip jar grows steadily fuller and fuller...

At the end of my shift, I made my 3rd cup of cappuccino and proudly showed it to my co-worker before destroying the design with a spoonful of brown sugar and taking a sip. On the way home through Rittenhouse Park, I tried to describe to Sarah the different elements of the morning ballet class that made it so so lovely, but generally failed. For one, I am unable to do justice to Kip's amazing choreography skills; and for another, memory sucks, and sometimes you just gotta be there and accept the fact that often, beautiful hours will fall by the wayside and be forever forgotten. How ephemeral these moments are! And how utterly undependable is human memory.

Ballet fact of the day: In the precipitee step (kick-kick really fast), your feet are supposed to touch the ground. Sometimes, it's hard to tell if Kip is walking or flying.