JERUSALEM—Even when I am in the United States, I like to use coffee as a standard to size a place up. It’s something along the lines that if the residents of a place care enough to have good coffee, the place itself can’t be all that bad.
The coffee test is not scientific, it’s not even based on logic. It is, pardon the pun, mostly based on gut instinct. If I find myself in a place where I can’t find a good cup of coffee—in the United States or elsewhere—I start to wonder about the area’s inhabitants and their priorities in life.
Subjecting Israel to my semi-delusional pastime of ranking a place based on its coffee has been pleasantly surprising. In fact, Israel demonstrates my rule. It’s basically a pretty great place, and you can find a good cup of coffee almost everywhere. If I were to go completely overboard and rank it by points, Israel would get about 93 points out of 100.
There are three basic rules about coffee in Israel. First, they don’t have a certain coffee chain that is ubiquitous in the United States. It came, tried, and failed. That’s pretty amazing and earns about 50 points, just for originality and sheer sassiness on Israel’s part.
Second, there is a special vocabulary for discussing coffee, which shows an affinity and reverence for getting the drink right, which earns about 25 points.
Third, finding a totally decent cup of coffee—including espresso drinks—is so easy here that you don’t even have to think about it. Just walk down the street, pick a place, and you’re good. This is especially true in Jerusalem. That earns the remaining 18 points. The final seven points are taken away due to three factors: Arabic coffee, the national penchant for drinking instant coffee, and the apparent difficulty with making regular coffee (a.k.a. American coffee).
When it comes to ordering a coffee in a restaurant or coffee shop here, it’s no simple matter. For the most part, what is most readily available are espresso drinks. Cappuccinos are the easiest to find, and they are almost always excellent. Every barista, even in the central bus station, know how to make a cappuccino with a little design on the top. That’s impressive, no two ways about it. The foam is perfect 99 percent of the time, and the temperature is usually just right. So bravo on your cappucinos, Israel. I also discovered that even if it’s not on the menu, you can usually order an espresso drink that you personally like.
The big downside here is the confusion that comes when you just want a straight, simple cup of coffee. Trying to order that can be a 15 minute discussion, including translation. The waiter will ask, “Eh .... you mean American coffee?” I can’t explain it, but even though I know they mean filter coffee (the kind found in most American homes made from a machine) I hesitate ordering it.
Something about the way the waiters hesitate makes me wonder nervously. “Maybe they don’t know what they’re doing, and I should just order a cappuccino?”
Arabic coffee, often described to me as an “acquired taste,” is worth an entire column. It would be difficult to describe the overwhelming smell and spiced flavor of Arabic coffee. Let’s just say it’s exotic—too exotic for this American—and leave it at that for now.
Overall, the extensive skill and care Israel puts into its coffee has been a happy surprise for me, minus the instant coffee. But when you live in a country as hot as this place, maybe having a steaming hot coffee machine in your kitchen isn’t such a great idea.
The coffee test is not scientific, it’s not even based on logic. It is, pardon the pun, mostly based on gut instinct. If I find myself in a place where I can’t find a good cup of coffee—in the United States or elsewhere—I start to wonder about the area’s inhabitants and their priorities in life.
Subjecting Israel to my semi-delusional pastime of ranking a place based on its coffee has been pleasantly surprising. In fact, Israel demonstrates my rule. It’s basically a pretty great place, and you can find a good cup of coffee almost everywhere. If I were to go completely overboard and rank it by points, Israel would get about 93 points out of 100.
There are three basic rules about coffee in Israel. First, they don’t have a certain coffee chain that is ubiquitous in the United States. It came, tried, and failed. That’s pretty amazing and earns about 50 points, just for originality and sheer sassiness on Israel’s part.
Second, there is a special vocabulary for discussing coffee, which shows an affinity and reverence for getting the drink right, which earns about 25 points.
Third, finding a totally decent cup of coffee—including espresso drinks—is so easy here that you don’t even have to think about it. Just walk down the street, pick a place, and you’re good. This is especially true in Jerusalem. That earns the remaining 18 points. The final seven points are taken away due to three factors: Arabic coffee, the national penchant for drinking instant coffee, and the apparent difficulty with making regular coffee (a.k.a. American coffee).
When it comes to ordering a coffee in a restaurant or coffee shop here, it’s no simple matter. For the most part, what is most readily available are espresso drinks. Cappuccinos are the easiest to find, and they are almost always excellent. Every barista, even in the central bus station, know how to make a cappuccino with a little design on the top. That’s impressive, no two ways about it. The foam is perfect 99 percent of the time, and the temperature is usually just right. So bravo on your cappucinos, Israel. I also discovered that even if it’s not on the menu, you can usually order an espresso drink that you personally like.
The big downside here is the confusion that comes when you just want a straight, simple cup of coffee. Trying to order that can be a 15 minute discussion, including translation. The waiter will ask, “Eh .... you mean American coffee?” I can’t explain it, but even though I know they mean filter coffee (the kind found in most American homes made from a machine) I hesitate ordering it.
Something about the way the waiters hesitate makes me wonder nervously. “Maybe they don’t know what they’re doing, and I should just order a cappuccino?”
Arabic coffee, often described to me as an “acquired taste,” is worth an entire column. It would be difficult to describe the overwhelming smell and spiced flavor of Arabic coffee. Let’s just say it’s exotic—too exotic for this American—and leave it at that for now.
Overall, the extensive skill and care Israel puts into its coffee has been a happy surprise for me, minus the instant coffee. But when you live in a country as hot as this place, maybe having a steaming hot coffee machine in your kitchen isn’t such a great idea.
Friends Read Free