latte

Well, this is it. The big one. The recipe we've been waiting for all week. We've gone through the motions, gotten ourselves all worked up, and now must release this accumulated energy in culinary catharsis.

Have you ever had a hot latte? It's a simple pleasure to privileged people like ourselves, and probably one a lot of us take for granted when grabbing one on the go to sip upon during the morning commute; something about holding one in your hands is so oddly...comforting. It's life-affirming; you feel the heat of it radiate through the cardboard sleeve, you see the steam rise up out of the little hole in the plastic lid, the aroma of espresso filling the space around you. After patiently blowing tiny poofs of breath into the beverage, you take your first slug and are instantly transported to a better place; you're an executive on the way to an important business meeting, or perhaps an architect if you're artsy and happen to be wearing glasses at the time. Drinking a latte is enough to make any menial chore, task, or errand feel vitally important, and it's not just the caffeine that causes this effect. Earl grey tea? An artisanal cold-brew with agave and hemp milk? Both delicious, yet somehow they both fall short. They just don't have the same mental impact to me.

Today, we will not be terrorizing any of the Starbucks workers in my area with my frivolous and paltry desires; instead, we're bringing the party home, into the pinkbelly kitchen, in an attempt to simulate the SoCal latte experience on the cheap.

coffee grounds

hot water

coconut cream

stevia

Is there a difference between ground coffee and espresso? I always thought it was the way you steep them that makes the difference. I never claimed to be an expert in anything except for photography.

Here are the grounds, measured, primed, and ready for action. I used about a tablespoon here, reserving the rest in my pantry for any subsequent attempts in case I really fucked things up. The good news? I didn't. Sort of.

Espresso shots, according to my observations, seem to be very dark, almost viscous in a way. The big thing for me was to make sure that the water was densely encumbered enough to support the weight of the cream, so instead of filtering the coffee through as one would with a normal cup of joe, I just poured the hot water in and let it sit like that for about ten minutes.

In the meantime, I nuked my cream and frothed it vigorously with a fork to give myself something to do. I most certainly did not do this part as well as the pros, and that's nobody's fault but my own. As long as it's warm, you should be fine.

Once you've got all of your metaphorical ducks in a row, go ahead and strain the wheat from the chaff with a fine mesh sieve. Take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the coffee, and the feeling of creation. These are memories to be cherished.

Well, would you look at that. The refractive indices of these bubbles are pointing silly little rainbows at me. Even mother nature herself thinks I'm a gay retard; I wonder if she and my own mom ever speak poorly of me behind my back.

Oh, thank god. I was worried those bubbles would be something I wouldn't be able to get rid of; this is a much more classically-styled shot of espresso, lovely, subdued and ready to make me feel like a french debutante, running late for brunch with the hens again. Sweeten the coffee now, get that part out of the way. Give the cream another poke with your fork, just for good measure. It's the moment of truth, what we've all been waiting for.

In the end, I was not able to make a beautiful heart or flower with the cream; this is the net result of over one hour of doing my best to emulate what I've seen other, more talented latte artists do on the internet, to no avail. What can I say? I'm a huge disappointment. I've worked many depressing jobs in my life, and I thank my lucky stars every day that I've never had the unfortunate experience of serving adult children coffee at five in the morning as a barista. I'm certainly not discounting the possibility that I may have to resort to such work in the future, as I am in fact a huge loser. I'm just saying it hasn't happened yet.

You all knew this was coming; don't you dare groan at me through the screen. I can't hear you. The computer is not a telephone.

Here is the rest of the meal this very special little latte was painstakingly crafted to round off; as you can see, we've got the potatoes from earlier this week, the eggplant bacon, and the biscuit, generously slathered in cock sauce. I even made a shitty little baked tofu egg patty for a bit of protein. I'm a busy woman, and I've got needs.

You want some orange juice? A little pick-me-up in the morning? I've got your Egg McMuffin and hashbrowns. I've got your hot and steamy McCafe, right here, bitch. This is pinkbelly, here to show vegans everywhere that we don't need to eat from the trough just because we follow such a restrictive set of rules when it comes to our diets. This is my own personal way of saying, fuck 'em. We don't need 'em.

Don't believe me? Open up your eyes. Life is right there for the taking. Follow your own rules, carve out your own path. I can't do it for you. I'm not your fucking mom.