Caffè al bar

Having time to kill in the Italian airports means coffee at the bar. Sidle up to the cashregister  and state your preference... In Naples today for me it was a caffè macchiato...espresso with a little stain of lightly steamed whole milk. 1€. I hand him a €5, slide my coins out of the change dish, which is a beautiful custom made Italian ceramic plate with the bar's name painted in royal blue with gold flourishes, along with the required receipt. Proof you have a right to that caffè.  

Now to maneuver to the bar somehow. If you're Italian, coffee drinking isn't the long sipping and chatting exercise we participate in. Your job is to produce the receipt, order your drink, drink it and leave a space for the next person. Sounds simple. It isn't.  

A spot vacates and I move in. Casually holding my receipt just above the counter level, not to seem too anxious, I wait for the barista's glance. He's wearing a traditional uniform, short sleeved white cotton dress shirt, a vest in royal blue, a red bowtie, and a royal blue hat that reminds me of the ice cream scoopers from the '50s. His eyes glance at me and he smiles from down the bar, and when he is halfway to me I mutter, "macchiato". 

He grins, swiftly grabs three stylish, tall, thin glasses with three of his fingers, runs them under the bar sink faucet and fills them halfway with water from the sink. It's a fizzy water, naturally, as we are in a volcanic area. He puts a glass before a flight attendant, a pilot, and then flips it upside down and places one in front of me without spilling a drop.  "Bella signora, vorrebbe qualcosa da mangiare oggi?" ...pretty lady, would you care for  something to eat? He smiles again, flashing those black neopolitan eyes, and starts making our espressos. 

Why the water? To clean your palate, of course! I drink mine, tasting the minerals and feeling the amazingly fine bubbles clean my mouth. By the time I'm done, so are the coffees. 

It's served in a warm cup, with the name of the coffee in the ceramic. I add one bag of sugar, it floats for a second or two and falls through. Yes it's a good coffee. I stir, then pass the back of the tiny spoon over the rim where il'l drink, to flavor the cup. Who wants to taste a ceramic cup? Then take it in, usually in three or four good sips. Done. Before I can put the cup back, my barista is back asking if it was buono... It's coffee at a bar in italy. How could it not be anything but incredible? And for me it was much more. I was 'commossa''. Moved...it was like they'd been waiting for me to come home.