Tag: coffee

Greek Iced Coffee Culture

Americans, I hate to break it to you, but we’re getting screwed on the iced-coffee front. While you think we’ve got it made at Starbucks, Greece is totally lapping us.

Yes, Greece. You might think they’re a bunch of ouzo-drinking, tax-dodging yahoos, but da-yum, have they got the cold caffeine down. Check it:

First, we have the classic frappe, the signature drink of Greeks young and old. Whether you’re in a café in Athens or at a beachfront cantina, it should take you no less than four hours to drink a single one.

beach frappe

Frappes are so ubiquitous that every tiny grocery sells insta-frappe kits: a plastic cup with a lid, plus the frappe ingredients. We went on a walk out in the fields outside Eressos, and the roadside was littered with disposable frappe cups. Yup, even farmers drink frappe.

frappe trash

This is all dodging the issue of just what goes into a frappe. Well, I’ll tell you now: it’s Nescafe, plain and simple. Except it’s Nescafe made in Greece, so it tastes much better than what we get in the States. (Yes, I have done side-by-side tests.) You shake up Nescafe with cold water and sugar (if you like), and it turns crazy-foamy. Then you add ice and, if you like, milk. Then you sip for hours.

In our apartment at the beach, we found a handheld frappe whizzer, the same kind we have at home–but this one had a cord, a weirdly permanent detail on such a flimsy machine. (Ours is battery-powered–I guess so you can take it on picnics?)

Still don’t believe me? It’s all documented in Frappe Nation, a surprisingly gripping book by Daniel Young and Victoria Constantinopoulos. I even own a Frappe Nation tank top.

But Daniel better start taking notes for a sequel, because not only does Greece have the near-perfect frappe, but now it’s marching on to the ‘freddo espresso’ …

and, more beautifully, the ‘freddo cappuccino’–which is pronounced the Greek way, ‘fray-do cap-oo-tsi-no’. That one on the right is the newfangled thing, next to a dowdy old frappe:

I should’ve been a more diligent reporter, but I can’t tell you how they make these. They are not coming from an espresso machine. Just a different blend of instant coffee? Never mind–I just want to preserve the magic another year or two.

And I’m still not done. What’s even more staggering is the ridiculous proliferation of much goofier coffee drinks, like the Freddito:

Even weirder was this product, the Cafe Zero. We saw it practically first thing, in the metro stop at the airport. (Americans, Greece is also kicking our ass in the public-transport department–but who isn’t?) There they are, in an open fridge, just waiting for the busy jet-setter to whiz by and snap one up.

Jennifer popped it open on the train and took a cautious sip.

She was grossed out. But then she got used to it. But then, near the end, she said, “I’m getting kind of disgusted. This thing has stayed the exact same temperature and consistency the entire time, and it doesn’t have any condensation around the outside of the cup.” We felt, and sipped cautiously. She was right. It was creepy. Here’s what it looked like inside:

So, OK, Americans–maybe we don’t want to import this last miracle of coffee culture. But the others? Hell, yes. And fortunately, our trendy Greek neighbor has advised us that the ‘freddo cappuccino’ is available just down the street here in Astoria, Queens. In to-go cups. Athens, we’re gaining on you.

The New Illiteracy, Brought to You by Chili’s

As I’ve mentioned before, we’ve got this little strip of suburban plastic at the southern end of Astoria. One of the bigger tenants is an Applebee’s.

And that Applebee’s has a big ol’ freakin’ apple on top of it.

applebees

When I saw this, I immediately thought of Campeche, Mexico. Like many Spanish colonial towns, Campeche didn’t have street signs at first. People referred to corners instead, and named them for objects or animals, which were marked with a drawing or a figure. In Campeche, the corner known as “el rincon del venado” is still marked by a somewhat battered statue of a deer (which I can’t find a photo of, unfortunately) atop one of the buildings.

This isn’t unique to Campeche. Most of medieval Europe used this same navigation, and it was handy in colonial towns where new streets were built and named quickly (and unmemorably–the Spanish just used numbers).

So the Applebee’s sign makes sense here in Queens–the streets here are also unmemorably numbered, and there is certainly a polyglot population.

But the bad aspect of medieval signage is that it was really adopted because no one could read.

Is that what’s happening now? It sure seems like it.

Especially because it’s not just Applebee’s.

chilis_bldg

Chili’s is probably even more thorough in this than Applebee’s is–most restaurants have the gigundo chili on it. And with its logo, Chili’s has gone so far as to take all but one of the letters out of its name:

logo_chilis

When I was in Chicago in January, we passed the Weber Grill restaurant. This has perhaps the most medieval look of all, the way it’s sticking off the building:

weber-grill

I can practically hear someone saying, “I’ll meet you at el rincon del Weber…”

I was on the Upper West Side last week, and saw that Dunkin’ Donuts is following the trend too, by affixing a giant coffee cup to its awning. I didn’t get a picture of that, but here’s another version, out in Brooklyn:

dunkin-cup-in-bklyn

What’s funny about this one is that there’s still lettering on the cup. Dunkin’ Donuts is basically admitting that it doesn’t “own” the takeaway coffee market–but it’s hoping that if it just makes its own logo big enough, it will suffice. (And can I add that it’s just plain sad that the more obvious symbol–duh, a doughnut!–is not even an option, due to health concerns.)

I knew standards in the U.S. were slipping–we’re more like a third-world country than anyone wants to admit. But if we’re going back to the illiterate Middle Ages on top of it all, it’s worse than I thought.

Any signs of diner illiteracy near you?

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