How
do you take your coffee? As the drink goes (quite literally) from
strength to strength on high streets, we look at how our love affair is
moving to a whole new level
Britain's love affair with coffee shows no sign of abating. Photograph: Graham Turner for the Guardian
The coffee business is full of beans. Let us take with a pinch of powdered chocolate Starbucks' claims
– made amid its recent corporation-tax row – that it continually makes a
loss in Britain. In 2011, 600 new coffee outlets opened in Britain, according to retail research analysts.
Its survey also found that 39% of us visited coffee shops (remember,
incidentally, when they were called cafes?) more than we did 12 months
ago, although the figures for visits may be skewed by me exiting an
outlet with my coffee, and returning immediately to complain that it was
lukewarm.
And the rise is set to continue. The coffee chain sector is expected to grow at 6% a year and exceed 6,000 outlets by 2015, with sales predicted to reach £3.2bn by 2015. The biggest chain, Costa, opened 160 outlets last year, and now has 1,342 branches. If I leaned out of my window and threw a packet of robusta beans, I could probably hit three of them.
What seems to be happening is that we're cutting back on the frills (such as those skinny blueberry muffins whose innards eerily recall the look, texture and flavour of carpet underlay) and demanding that our coffees work harder to titillate our palates. The very idea of us renouncing a beverage that King Charles II tried to ban and The Women's Petition Against Coffee of 1674 claimed had "so Eunucht our Husbands and Crippled our more kind gallants they come from it with nothing moist but their snotty noses, nothing stiffe but their Joints ..." is unthinkable. There is, incidentally, no good evidence for an inverse relationship between British coffee sales and sperm motility, despite what 17th-century women protesters claimed.
Earlier this year, Starbucks introduced two shots of espresso as standard into their "tall" lattes in recognition of the fact that Britons want more poke from their coffee. Announcing this multimillion-pound initiative, Kris Engskov, Starbucks' UK and Ireland managing director, said that his customers are "becoming more experienced, more sophisticated and many more are looking for a stronger taste". (Zoe Williams may claim to have pioneered this development – see the accompanying feature.) What is happening to Britons' relationship with coffee? When I interviewed gourmet coffee guru Gwilym Davies three years ago, shortly before he took the World Barista Championship crown in the US, he told me that we were in the third wave of coffee. The first wave involved the popularisation of coffee through freeze-dried techniques. The second wave involved global Starbucksification, whereby large chains of gourmet coffee shops, home espresso machines and the shift from robusta to arabica coffee beans all helped to improve coffee quality. The third involved creating a British coffee culture which hadn't existed here since the 18th century: "It's all very uncorporate, and passionate about freshness and the sourcing of coffee beans."
When I catch up with Davies (he is in Moscow trying to help the Russians finesse their coffee skills), he argues that this third wave has revolutionised Britain. "Our tastes are certainly changing. What was a small group of educated coffee consumers has become almost the norm."
But what do these customers demand? "Smaller cup sizes are being accepted. Lower milk temperatures are being embraced. We rarely have to explain that we produce milk-based coffee at 55C to enhance sweetness and texture. Traceable coffee with transparency of the blend is expected with many cafes using single estate and seasonal blends. Customers are paying more for more interesting and adventurous coffee offerings."
The barista is becoming a recognised profession, and not just among those who can't spell barrister. "Baristas are growing in number with a new generation coming directly into coffee and wanting to make it a career."
But isn't this coffee renaissance the preserve of smug London hipsters? Davies thinks otherwise. "I think this baton will be picked up by cafes outside of London such as Laynes in Leeds, Colonna and Smalls in Bath or one in Liverpool whose name escapes me." If you're a scouse coffee aficionado, let us know which one he means. He could equally have mentioned Brewsmiths in Birmingham, which serves artisanal coffee to that former oxymoron, coffee-savvy brummies.
Davies also argues that we're more demanding about the coffee we serve at home. He reckons we are increasingly opting for brewing methods such as the Aeropress, Syphon, and the Hario V60 pour-over Cone – suggesting that our most sophisticated home-coffee experience is no longer the one that comes when you pierce the foil lid on a jar of Gold Blend and sniff.
And then there is the Nespresso coffee machine, which has driven some otherwise right-thinking people (me, for instance) to embrace the evil Nestle franchise. These machines, just like the flat white or latte you take out of your local coffee shop, are doubtless proving successful because they so reliably deliver the captivating lie-dream of coffee. Nespresso's velvety crema and its darkling thimble of ristretto daily give me the illusion I am a sophisticated continental, living in caffeinated leisure at a pavement cafe where only lovely things – passionate dalliances, superb cakes – are on today's menu. Whereas in reality, after I've savoured my coffee, there is only comedown. Rain falling on dirty old north London. A nose that needs to be put back on the money-making grindstone sharpish. Coffee is a global industry not just because it supplies a chemical hit or a taste sensation, but because it lets us dream.
One day I was queueing in Selfridges. Lynda Bellingham (that's right, The Lynda Bellingham) was at the counter buying her Nespresso capsules. She asked the assistant if her capsules could be shipped to her home in Spain. I was – and remain – sick with envy. I'd previously felt pity for Lynda Bellingham because, for me, her career highlight was as the Bisto mum in the coffee granules ad in the 70s, but then I realised pity was misplaced. This morning as I sip my coffee, I want to be Lynda Bellingham, living a sophisticated life of gourmet coffee drinking on her Spanish terrace with its view of the old town and the beach beyond, and the prospect of a fling with some decorous Hispanic hottie later in the day. It'll never happen, but I'll keep dreaming.
• How do you drink your coffee? Tell us here
• This article was amended on 19 December 2012 because the original said the coffee chain sector is expected to grow at 6% a year and exceed 6,000 outlets a year. This has been corrected to say this sector is expected to exceed 6,000 outlets by 2015.
And the rise is set to continue. The coffee chain sector is expected to grow at 6% a year and exceed 6,000 outlets by 2015, with sales predicted to reach £3.2bn by 2015. The biggest chain, Costa, opened 160 outlets last year, and now has 1,342 branches. If I leaned out of my window and threw a packet of robusta beans, I could probably hit three of them.
What seems to be happening is that we're cutting back on the frills (such as those skinny blueberry muffins whose innards eerily recall the look, texture and flavour of carpet underlay) and demanding that our coffees work harder to titillate our palates. The very idea of us renouncing a beverage that King Charles II tried to ban and The Women's Petition Against Coffee of 1674 claimed had "so Eunucht our Husbands and Crippled our more kind gallants they come from it with nothing moist but their snotty noses, nothing stiffe but their Joints ..." is unthinkable. There is, incidentally, no good evidence for an inverse relationship between British coffee sales and sperm motility, despite what 17th-century women protesters claimed.
Earlier this year, Starbucks introduced two shots of espresso as standard into their "tall" lattes in recognition of the fact that Britons want more poke from their coffee. Announcing this multimillion-pound initiative, Kris Engskov, Starbucks' UK and Ireland managing director, said that his customers are "becoming more experienced, more sophisticated and many more are looking for a stronger taste". (Zoe Williams may claim to have pioneered this development – see the accompanying feature.) What is happening to Britons' relationship with coffee? When I interviewed gourmet coffee guru Gwilym Davies three years ago, shortly before he took the World Barista Championship crown in the US, he told me that we were in the third wave of coffee. The first wave involved the popularisation of coffee through freeze-dried techniques. The second wave involved global Starbucksification, whereby large chains of gourmet coffee shops, home espresso machines and the shift from robusta to arabica coffee beans all helped to improve coffee quality. The third involved creating a British coffee culture which hadn't existed here since the 18th century: "It's all very uncorporate, and passionate about freshness and the sourcing of coffee beans."
When I catch up with Davies (he is in Moscow trying to help the Russians finesse their coffee skills), he argues that this third wave has revolutionised Britain. "Our tastes are certainly changing. What was a small group of educated coffee consumers has become almost the norm."
But what do these customers demand? "Smaller cup sizes are being accepted. Lower milk temperatures are being embraced. We rarely have to explain that we produce milk-based coffee at 55C to enhance sweetness and texture. Traceable coffee with transparency of the blend is expected with many cafes using single estate and seasonal blends. Customers are paying more for more interesting and adventurous coffee offerings."
The barista is becoming a recognised profession, and not just among those who can't spell barrister. "Baristas are growing in number with a new generation coming directly into coffee and wanting to make it a career."
But isn't this coffee renaissance the preserve of smug London hipsters? Davies thinks otherwise. "I think this baton will be picked up by cafes outside of London such as Laynes in Leeds, Colonna and Smalls in Bath or one in Liverpool whose name escapes me." If you're a scouse coffee aficionado, let us know which one he means. He could equally have mentioned Brewsmiths in Birmingham, which serves artisanal coffee to that former oxymoron, coffee-savvy brummies.
Davies also argues that we're more demanding about the coffee we serve at home. He reckons we are increasingly opting for brewing methods such as the Aeropress, Syphon, and the Hario V60 pour-over Cone – suggesting that our most sophisticated home-coffee experience is no longer the one that comes when you pierce the foil lid on a jar of Gold Blend and sniff.
And then there is the Nespresso coffee machine, which has driven some otherwise right-thinking people (me, for instance) to embrace the evil Nestle franchise. These machines, just like the flat white or latte you take out of your local coffee shop, are doubtless proving successful because they so reliably deliver the captivating lie-dream of coffee. Nespresso's velvety crema and its darkling thimble of ristretto daily give me the illusion I am a sophisticated continental, living in caffeinated leisure at a pavement cafe where only lovely things – passionate dalliances, superb cakes – are on today's menu. Whereas in reality, after I've savoured my coffee, there is only comedown. Rain falling on dirty old north London. A nose that needs to be put back on the money-making grindstone sharpish. Coffee is a global industry not just because it supplies a chemical hit or a taste sensation, but because it lets us dream.
One day I was queueing in Selfridges. Lynda Bellingham (that's right, The Lynda Bellingham) was at the counter buying her Nespresso capsules. She asked the assistant if her capsules could be shipped to her home in Spain. I was – and remain – sick with envy. I'd previously felt pity for Lynda Bellingham because, for me, her career highlight was as the Bisto mum in the coffee granules ad in the 70s, but then I realised pity was misplaced. This morning as I sip my coffee, I want to be Lynda Bellingham, living a sophisticated life of gourmet coffee drinking on her Spanish terrace with its view of the old town and the beach beyond, and the prospect of a fling with some decorous Hispanic hottie later in the day. It'll never happen, but I'll keep dreaming.
• How do you drink your coffee? Tell us here
• This article was amended on 19 December 2012 because the original said the coffee chain sector is expected to grow at 6% a year and exceed 6,000 outlets a year. This has been corrected to say this sector is expected to exceed 6,000 outlets by 2015.
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