Public Service Announcement Mk2

Remember that one time I went on and on for hours about caramel macchiatos? You know, how I couldn't understand how such a misunderstood drink could be so popular? Would you believe me when I told you that there's another drink we sell that is all that and more?
Yes, I know. I wish it weren't so either.

The drink to which I am mysteriously eluding is none other than the cappuccino.
"Oh! Cappuccinos!" some of you may be thinking, "I love cappuccinos! I get them at the local gas station all the time!"
If these are the words that you've just thought, never, never, order a cappuccino at Starbucks.
Starbucks' cappuccinos, as with most real coffee shops outside of a machine with four spouts that chokes out water and dust at you, are shots of espresso with freshly steamed milk poured immediately over them with none of the foam held back as it would be in a latte. The end result is a strong coffee flavor lightly balanced by the sweet flavor and the creamy, light texture of the milky foam. The drink is for the more discerning palate (like those people who know what chardonnay is and what kind of cheese pairs perfectly with it) and, before its reputation was utterly, sadly bastardized, should have been the coffee epitome of class and style.

Now, I'm not going to lie. There is no way, ever, in the universe, that cappuccinos at Starbucks should be considered the best. They're just more of a step in the right direction than what most people picture. At the very least, the baristas know what it should look and feel like, even if they don't all know how to get there. Mostly. HOWEVER, we get irritated by your repeated requests for french vanilla cappuccinos just like anyone else.
(By the way, if you ask for french vanilla at Starbucks, we automatically assume you're an idiot. We'll do it, we just add hazelnut to it to make it 'french', but we'll automatically figure you as the type that normally drinks Maxwell House and that this is your first trip to the Starbucks.)

It's not just your ignorance on the subject that makes this beverage so darn annoying, nossir. To make the beverage well, it needs its own, fresh pitcher of milk, it needs to be timed well so that the shots have been poured roughly at the same time that the milk has finished steaming, and it has to feel like it weighs what it should weigh (less than a latte, more than air). All that for a drink you'll be disappointed in.
I know, I know, it doesn't sound like much and why am I so whiny and really, why don't I just quit because obviously cappuccinos are ruining my life. It doesn't sound so bad up there, but when you've got a line of cups on every inch of the bar and every pitcher is full of the milk you'll need and all of a sudden there's a cappuccino thrown in there, well, thanks for the wrench in our gears, 14-year-old child who gets it at Sheetz every morning.
Oh, and then there are those that order very specific and customized versions due to what I call the Caramel Macchiato principle (you don't really like the drink but you refuse to give up on it.) So we get calls for 140 degree wet cappuccinos with 7 pumps of vanilla and cinnamon on top and way to go you just ruined everybody's day.
By the way, usually, asking for a wet cappuccino means you want a latte (or that your baristas are terrible at making cappuccinos. Then you...probably still want a latte. They know how to make those.) Asking for a 140 degree cappuccino means that you probably want a latte. Lightweight and foamy means that it probably won't be as warm as a latte, and definitely won't be in about, oh, five minutes. Asking for it with cinnamon on top? Means that you like cinnamon. You pervert.
Now, on occasion, I get legit cappuccino orders from legit cappuccino aficionados. They order it dry or breve or short, and I have no problem whatsoever even slightly making it for them, because they know what they want and I'm pleased as punch to get it for them.

For everyone else? Just so you know, when you order a french vanilla cappuccino...
...I make it extra dry.

The more you know.

A Public Service Announcement

There's a drink we sell that most everybody knows by name, even if they haven't actually tried it. It's one of the most popular drinks we sell, and just dropping the name hints towards the drinker's high classiness and great taste in coffee/milk beverages. Alas, however, few on the consumer's side of the bar are really aware of what it is.

I am talking, of course, about the poor, bastardized caramel macchiato.

Most people, when they see the name, picture something like this:


Since caramel is the everyday person's cocaine, the word "caramel" in the title sends up a flag that this, this here, is the drink of their dreams. The drink must be made of nothing but caramel because, look, the word "caramel" is right in the name.

What it is really is vanilla syrup (less, might I add, than would be in a regular vanilla latte), steamed milk until an inch from the top, foam (more foam, again, than would be in a normal latte; it is recipe standard for the caramel macchiato to weigh less than our lattes), the shot(s) of espresso are poured on top, and then that is topped by a cross-hatch and two circles of caramel drizzle.

Macchiato, in Italian, means marked with, and is a concept that Starbucks uses frequently, such as in their espresso macchiato, which is shot(s) of espresso marked with foamed milk, as well as several other short-lived promotional beverages (oh marble mocha macchiato, how we remember you fondly). The Caramel Macchiato, in this case, is marked with, well, caramel. The entire point is to drink the shots of espresso covered in the drizzle, as caramel is a perfect taste accompaniment to espresso.

It is at this point in the explanation that the customer's eyes have glazed over and I give in, telling them that yeah, they'll probably like it.

The odd part is that most people do, which completely throws me off guard. Of course, most people love it, no for realz it's my favorite drink, I mean it, only after giving it a hearty stir and adding 17 packets of sugar in the raw. And asking us to put in extra EXTRA OMG LOTS OF CARAMEL PLZZ, and in some cases topping it with whipped cream. Which is the most irritating way to make this drink in the history of ever. But I could (and probably will) devote an entire 19 posts about my troubles with whipped cream.

Even worse are the iced caramel macchiatos. It completely destroys the original point of the regular version, as the drink is now vanilla flavored milk until the drinker encounters the shots, when he or, mostly, she throws it away. Not only that, but now the customer can see what it looks like, and now is when the demands for us to stir it pour in. You know, because obviously we put those darn shots on top because we're so lazy! Did you see those guys?! Forgot to put my shots in! And then they just stuck em' on top! I swear, if they don't stir it...oh gawd, they didn't stir it. I'd better tell them to.

Somewhere, there is a professional barista who designed this drink to be appreciated by coffee aficionados the world over who is weeping at what his creation has turned into. He is being quickly hushed by his superiors, who don't really care about the product unless the outcome is money, and good gawd has this drink coined it. A kajillionty millionty people make a special stop to Starbucks the world over just to purchase a caramel macchiato.

The depressing part in all this is that customers would be infinitely more satisfied with their beverage if they just ordered what they wanted. I found a drinks guide online that describes the caramel macchiato as:

"Basically, a vanilla latte with a bit less vanilla and extra foam, and with gooey, yummy caramel sauce drizzled on top. If it doesn't taste sweet enough when you first try it, mix it up a bit. If it's still not sweet enough, ask for more vanilla -- caramel sauce doesn't really dissolve well, so by the time it strongly flavors the drink there's way too much. Iced caramel macchiatos, like hot ones, have the shots and caramel poured on top, so when you get it it won't look mixed at all. Just make sure you stir it before you drink. Macchiato, by the way, is pronounced "mah-kee-YAH-toe." src

If you stir it, and add extra vanilla, and, yes, extra caramel and whipped cream...then that's not what you ordered anymore, and you look like a tool who has no idea where you are or how you got there. You would be much, much happier with a...and write this down, or something...

Caramel Latte, with caramel drizzle.

There. Not so hard, was it? Now you get what you want, and I don't hate you, and, even better for you, they are almost exactly the same price. In fact, nine times out of ten, if you're nice, and you order a caramel latte, I will ask you at the bar if you want some drizzle on top. Then you don't have to pay for the drizzle, and you actually save money.

This has been my public service announcement to all of you.

The more you know.