It is silly to walk holding a cup of coffee or soda or fruit shake in your hand. Silly. As silly as walking downstairs with your hands in your pocket. You may well need your hand. Not to fend off an attack from someone with a lance and shield. Not to deflect a ball coming at you, nor to block a piece of plywood loosed off a roof by a sudden wind.
Those are rare. But a sudden slip, or a fool, or a slight branch, or a particular fine detail that you can best explain with your fingers, or a caution to something suddenly ahead. They do come up, and your hand is the first of you to it. To keep your hands free — the counter to my hands are full.
You will say, but I am off to work, or I love to drink my coffee slowly, it is my stroll. And ask me, you are kidding, right? But no, the coffee cup in your hand is a sort of contemporary, awkward version of smoking a Marlboro cigarette. It sets you up as a particular — it has a style, and a labor and a form and a distinct signal. Today, you are modern — a cellphone and a cup of coffee. Cosmopolitan and busy, thank you. In a sense, both the phone and the cup have a separateness.
Go back, for a moment, to the original espresso/cappuccino culture, to Italy itself. No Italian would ever waste a hand to carry a coffee cup, except to the table. And never to walk the street. If an Italian is strolling with a paper cup, then they are amusingly being an American tourist and trying to fit in. It was in Firenze, at a lovely coffee shop, that they all laughed and said, but you must drink your caffe here, in proper cup and saucer. Good morning.
As Umberto said, from his shop, it is a heartbreak to even have to order the paper cups and lids. We do so much, each day, to make the shop a place for you to enjoy and sit. People will see each other, we can share, or you can have a quiet moment. The coffee was not meant to go – this is your break from your work. Look out at the trash cans as you walk, they are all full with cups and those lids.
In the 90s, I proposed to the only Mayor I would know, Paul Schell, that he consider a bill to limit the sale of coffee to go in the urban core. He was amused, noting it may well have been my dumbest yet idea, but he went along and asked, why would we do this? I gave him three reasons. One, that the city would then see him every day, sitting in a coffee shop – he would learn a bit and they would learn a bit. Two, it would cut back on trash. And three, it would make the Mayor and the city famous, literally world famous. Everyone would know, when you come to Seattle, you must sit and drink your coffee, in place. The outdoor seating would soar, and the sense of the downtown would gain an intimacy, even authenticity.
I also proposed to Starbucks that they designate two of their best downtown locations to be a sort of haut couture version — a tribute to their original inspiration, a coffee shop in Milano. Do not offer coffee to go in the two shops, minimize the menu, and make it a place to come, and sit.
None of this came to pass, of course, but this is a new era and the times are changing. Twenty people a day come to the bookshop holding coffee cups and always, they are very gracious to set them outside. My staff all come with cups of things, rushing to be on time. Slowly, I shall convince them. A time on the other side of paper cups.
The insight is your hand. If I can make it clear — how suited it is to have your hands free. To drink your caffe in place. Good morning.
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Yes, and it is called being civilized. A tradition we would be wise to adopt. Brings life to ground, and gives one time to think.
Thanks for this. You are a master of the art of living well in increments. It’s the only way to do it.
After I left Heckler, Starbucks hired me and my late great friend and colleague Craig Marocco to advise them about their ambiance, and we also tried to convince them to try no-to-go service in at least some of their stores. Their response was to tell us that this would require installing dishwashers for which their was no room behind the counter. It was a lame and implausible excuse, given that they now offer their coffee-flavored steamed milk in ceramic mugs which—I hope—they somehow manage to wash between customers. But a ban on takeaway would be even better.
Okay, maybe we could allow the denizens of the drive-through window to take their coffees for a ride, but anyone who arrived on foot should be required to stop and smell the decaf before they saunter back to whatever less wonderful adventure awaits them.
The Portuguese deal with this by making the coffee so small that it would be absurd to walk around with it. “Café” is a single espresso, “café normal” if necessary to disambiguate, in a little cup furnished by the coffee supplier and a matching saucer, and a packet of sugar and a tiny spoon. Served to a table for €1 or so, or sometimes one might drink it at the counter, or there may be small tables or counters around the room high enough to stand at. Of course the cup will soon be empty, but that’s certainly not a reason to get up from your table.
Substitute hot chocolate (with whipped cream) for coffee and I couldn’t agree more.
What a fantastic way to restore the downtown core. Yes, the publicity with resulting walking traffic not to mention face to face sit down conversations! Mayor Katie, make this happen.
You’ll get my coffee cup out of my cold dead hands! 😀
“No takeaway.”
Interesting detail indeed!
Starbucks coffee was best when it was just selling beans, before it became what Gordon Bowker called “a purveyor of flavored milk.” Its coffee drinks were best when Howard hired the first eight Starbucks baristas as an experiment. One of them, Michael Dougan, confirmed this fact, and said the secret was, they were totally idealistic about perfect coffee, and all were high on pot every working day. I suspect that the baristas and future Pearl Jam members I bought superb lattes from daily at the Raison d
‘etre might have also failed urinalysis. Michael became a famous cartoonist, a TV writer (“The difference between cartooning and screenwriting,” he said, “is that in magazines, the chances that an editor or art director is lying to you is 5%, and in Hollywood, it’s 100%.”) Michael and his wife opened the coffee roaster/restaurant Michael’s Café American in Japan. I bet the coffee was superb, but when I tried to contact him about trying it on an upcoming Japan trip, I discovered that he’d just died of brain cancer. Whether it’s in a porcelain cup (preferred) or a paper cup with your name misspelled —
Enjoy every sip, everybody.
Lovely insight, Peter. I remember a musician friend of mine who worked on Piazza Navona who saw me and suggested we might have a cup of coffee. I told him, I’d be happy to, if he had time. Vincenzo looked at me strangely, and put his arm around my shoulder as he led me to a cafe around the corner. I was concerned he’d left his guitar leaning against the Fontana de Moro, but he just smiled and told me not to worry. Non preoccuparti, Michele! We ducked into Cafe De La Pace and the barista immediately slid an espresso toward my friend. Enzo asked what I wanted, and I told him the same. By the time my cup arrived, Vincenzo had slammed his espresso and left change on the counter. Our coffee took less than a minute, and we were back strolling toward the piazza.