It’s a short drink with a long history. Get your caffeine hit as Camille Bavera teaches you the art of espresso; just don’t let her catch you with a venti.

I am a woman on the go. Phone in hand or in purse, never in pocket, but always ready to tell me what to do next. I hate being bored and I don’t take time for unnecessary rituals. But Nonna – my nonna – will not tolerate such go-go-go behaviour in her household. She’ll say: “Il caffe di beve, bollente, sedente, per niente, che vuol dire, il caffe di beve caldo, seduto e gratis,” which means: “Coffee is to be drunk hot, seated, which means: drink coffee hot, sit, and be free.” She’s grateful that I embrace quality over quantity and will never be caught with an iced, let alone venti, anything. 

Picture this: a small kitchen lined with brown cabinets at the top and bottom; the neighbour’s dogs are barking through the back window. If you crane your neck, you can see them through the window around the wine cellar. There’s usually a heavy, bone-chilling mist that rolls off the alps in the mornings, clouding the frosted glass window above the radiator. 

The kitchen table is never without its silicone dressing gown, especially this early in the morning, and the thatched plastic placemats sitting on top do nothing more than catch cookie crumbs to be thrown out the window. We only have one or two of each style of cup, which makes for an eclectic array, but all full of the same chocolate-coloured liquid. 

The espresso. Yes, it’s that short. One word and it’s in your mouth, down your throat, and into your stomach, your lungs, all at once. Then, it’s gone. 

I haven’t visited her in Canneto Sull’Oglio, in the province of Lombardy, since November, and even then I could only spare two days for her 81st birthday. I can spare even less time in the mornings, and take the cold stone stairs to her kitchen two at a time, fuelled by the idea of caffeine. 

“Physically there’s not much to it, yet it’s the basis for an entire culture”

The preparation takes a little longer than the drinking. Water in the bottom of the moka pot, a ‘volcano’ of grounds (we use Pellini brand) in the metal filter, and a tightly screwed top over a medium flame. Repeat process as needed until fully caffeinated, morning, noon, or late at night.

The smell lingers in the sugary residue at the bottom of your cup, and the sound of metal on ceramic rings through the kitchen as you scrape the crystals out of the tiny cup with your tiny spoon; as though they weren’t in there long enough to learn how to dissolve.

That’s the beauty of this drink: it’s tiny. Physically, there’s not much to it, yet it’s the basis for an entire culture. It drives a nation, but it’s no more than three ounces, 85 millilitres. It can be enjoyed at home, the Autogrill (gas station), the Italian airports – more than anything, it’s a reminder that when it’s made and consumed correctly, everything is as it should be. It’s a cultural comfort of a familial home. And coffee companies understand this mentality, which is why a tiny espresso has made a big impact with Italian heritage brands such as Pellini and Illycaffè.

At a press conference last year, ahead of Illycaffè’s 90th birthday, the company’s CEO Andrea Illy educated consumers and celebrated the history of coffee before the world was introduced to pods and capsules.

“Coffee was at the centre of the universe for my father,” says Illy, “and I started drinking – or rather sipping – coffee when I was two and a half years old. Always coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee.” Illycaffè was responsible for the first coffee-filled capsule on the market back in 1974, and since then, the thought of screwing and tamping shots in a clunky espresso machine seems outdated and too time-consuming for everyday life. Pellini, which turned 100 years old in 2022, launched their ‘capsule collection’ ahead of their anniversary in 2021. 

Illy added: “You needed to be a trained barista, and my mother was nicknamed the ‘engineer of coffee’ because she could use the cumbersome machine, an expert at home espresso brewing,” which I suppose is why it costs three and a half quid for a decent espresso at a third-wave cafe.

While capsule coffee (Nespresso, Keurig, Dolce Gusto, Lavazza) has cornered today’s commuter-saturated market, there is still something tastier, and more special, about drinking it fresh from the moka off a hot stove.

And I agree – there is no better way to spend 30 seconds of your day than by sitting down, in front of your caffè, sipping espresso. So, sit down, remember the silicone’s a bit tacky, due to the morning humidity coming off the alps, and drink up. Don’t just knock it back on the way to the gym. The latter is American culture gone too far. Take your time.