Coffee Italiano: E01
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Time to read 4 min
Ok I can finally admit it: I’m a proper speciality coffee enthusiat. Sure, I don’t wear a teeny beanie, and the beard is more accidental than ornamental, but the defining fact still stands — I only like coffee that doesn’t taste like “coffee”.
I’ve just left my little bubble of pretentious deliciousness and moved to the French-Italian border, and I’m realising that out here in rural Europe, the contrast in attitude towards coffee is almost as severe as the change in scenery. Sure, I brought about 10kg of the finest Cuppers Choice coffee with me, and yes, this morning I spent half an hour making a cup that tasted like cherries and chocolate cake, but I’m going to have to accept that fruity bangers are not readily available in this climate.
Fuck it. I’m going to drink dark, rich, smooth, comforting, disgusting Italian coffee, I'm gonna try and open my mind, maybe there's something to it I'm missing.
The diary of a specaility barista drinking coffee in Italy.
Numero Uno - Bar Gas0line
This first sojourn in to dark roast territory didn't take me far from the border, but that shouldn't matter so much as the south of France is hardly Copenhagen when it comes to the beans. As you cross the border heading towards Ventimiglia you immediately reach two bar/tobacconists, both ideally situated to cash in on the cross border tax discrepancy on booze and smokes. But it's Italy, so of course they both do amazing sandwiches and espresso.
The first spot is Bar Marisa, my preferred of the two for all non coffee related items. Then, about 1 mile into Italy, you see this beast of a setup.
I know right, what on earth is going on here? It makes me think of that bit from Peep Show "Four Naan's Jeremy! That's insane". Four group heads in this rural location is insane, four levers on any machine is double insane - I had to try my first Italian coffee here right?
Notice the bags - they say "Expreso Intenso" - Why have I spent half my life correcting people when the Italians aren't even arsed about it? I did try and google the roaster to put a link in, but googling expreso intenso brings up about a million pages that make me wince... so lets just get on and taste the damn thing.
"Vorrei uno espresso per favore!"
A quick crank of one of the 4 levers and this little number appeared in front of me. My local friend proclaimed "real Italian coffee" with excitement, and I tried to gee myself up for the experience.
Fucking hell, I do not like this. First sip I went bareback - no sugar, and worried I might never be able to taste again... It was like a smoking a pack of fags while drinking Campari through a straw in a room where someones just unloaded a can of hairspray - Bittttterrr.
Ok, so it's not for me, I'll add the sugar.
With 1 entire sugar sachet emptied in to the remaining thimble I was ready to receive it again. Obviously this made a vast improvement, but it was still pretty rough. I smiled through my displeasure, and asked my companion to take a photo of me finishing the bowl, then stumbled out with a quick ciao and grazie.
Out on the road I could still taste the thick, rich tar, coating my tongue, and away from Italian eyes, ears, and smells I was able to collect myself and reflect on what had just happened to me.
I think, on reflection, that people just like hurting themselves. We smoke, we drink, some of us do extreme sports, some of us make terrible romantic decisions, some of us drink dark roast espresso.
I get it - maybe it's not supposed to be nice, maybe the appeal is in that shudder like someone's walked over your grave. It makes you feel alive, and in this sleepy little border village maybe that's all people need.
Ok, maybe I don't quite get it yet, but there is a lot about Gas0line I totally love! The frontage is unapologetically confusing - never mind speciality signalling here, they don't even sell petrol...
They absolutely blast the Euro-cheese tunes at any time of day! The sandwiches are lit, and so are the ciggies... it’s got a smoking area/back terrace where you can have a coffee, a beer, a slice of strudel, and a play on the fruit machines with the grandkids. As a 90s kid, I miss mixed spaces like that.
I absolutely will be returning to Gasoline, but unless my tastebuds regress massively on this journey I probably wont be taking a coffee.
My last words on Gas0line would be dark, amusing, and confusing. It's nice to go somewhere where they're trying to do everything, and find that everything apart from the coffee is pretty good!
If you want to try it yourself you can find it in San Michelle on the E74 between Ventimiglia and Tende, send us a picture!
Join me next time as I venture further behind enemy lines and try my luck with a cappuccino in Cuneo.
Jasper Dumas
Well I'm pretty far down the coffee rabbit hole, so far that I can see the other side. The other side is the context around coffee, and the shaft of light is a future where I never need to make another Flat White.
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