Wednesday, January 3, 2018

The Latte Bowl

     I won the hideous holiday outfit contest at a
party, so I got to go first in the present exchange. The voters went for the burgundy and gold tulle ribbon bow in my hair, pink-circled cheeks, striped shirt of fuchsia and  pink, forest green sleeveless jerkin, red belt, red capri pants, brown Fair Isle patterned tights, red and teal striped socks and red sneakers with huge jingle bells tied to the laces. Hideous. But I got to go first in the present exchange. 
     It was one of those in which you may unwrap a package from the gift table or steal something that someone else has opened, thus allowing nice Christian people to indulge in coveting and theft. But if you go first, you also go last and can excise from the whole collection. First I snagged a pretty candy jar and a "latte bowl," both of the Pioneer Woman brand. "Anybody know what a latte bowl is?" Shrugs all around. But it was a handy size and had a microwave lid. I liked it.
     Somebody stole it. 
     I opened a set of TV speakers. What corner of the warehouse were they in that they met the $10 limit?
     Somebody stole them. 
     I got a bag harboring a chocolate coin, a little Tupperware bowl in a leopard print (say what?), a "lump of coal" candy wrapped in black, and a can of hair-remover. Nobody stole that. 
    Last turn was mine. I studied all the goodies, but none supplanted the first. There in the hands of a sweet young thing were the jar and latte bowl. I took them back and handed her the maligned bag. She said,"Ohhh, grrreat." 
     Only dimly aware that latte is a type of coffee, I Googled. A blogger related a visit to a coffee shop at which he was served a latte in a bowl. A latte bowl. You can find them all over second-hand shops, he said. I had a brand-new one. Ha! But what exactly is a latte? 
     Espresso-- pressurized coffee-- mixed with warmed milk and topped with foam. I happen to own a cute little Italian moka pot. I even had a package of espresso-ground coffee with instructions in Italian. Check. Now, the foamed milk bit. There are battery-operated milk frothers out there. They spin a little loopy coil to foam up the milk. To the hopelessly unhip, they look ridiculous. Figuring that clever people must have made lattes before that invention, I took stock. My eyes lit on a salad-dressing mixer-- a plastic jar with a blade thingy and screw-on lid. It would have to do. 
     I fired up the moka pot, poured half a cup of milk into the mixer jar and shook it madly. The volume doubled, so I supposed that was foam. The moka pot burbled its last drop, and I poured  the brew into... a different bowl. It had seemed like a good idea to microwave some steel-cut oatmeal in the high-sided, Ree Drummond-endorsed bowl, but when they say to use high power, well, they lie. The hard-won official latte bowl was still in the dishwasher. A rice bowl volunteered. In went the espresso, the warm milk, and, by golly, foam. Voila, a latte, made by me in my very own kitchen. Pretty darn good, too.
     
What does Starbucks charge for a latte? I figure this creation cost less than 50 cents. And, of course, my last shred of dignity, but that wasn't much anyway. Just listen to my sneakers jingle as I take another sip. Ahhh. Delicioso.