My dad always leaves a bit leftover in his glass of water or his cup of coffee. When I was about three, already quite the explorer, I’d finish off his cups … until the day I got caught. I just loved it, but my parents wouldn’t let me drink any more, just a drop in my hot chocolate at breakfast every now and then. Patience!
Years later, I was lucky enough to spend my first holiday in Italy, in Lucca, where I encountered my first summer crush. Smooth yet intense, well-rounded and velvety. The espresso. Il caffè!
From Italy to China, all the way down to Patagonia and now back home, it all started with that one cup. Come along for journey.
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