The Italian Breakfast Is Not What You Think
Come Si Fa — A Summer Series
I don't remember exactly where I was the first time I stood at an Italian coffee bar. It may have been Milan on my first trip twenty years ago. It may have been at Malpensa upon landing. Now, it is always the ritual. As soon as we swish out of customs, we find our way to a bar and stand at it. What I do remember is being stunned by the speed.
Espresso lives up to its name. The experience is fast. You come in fast. You get your order in fast, sometimes shouting over other people. A ticket is thrust into your hand. You are pushed along to scope out an impossible empty space at a bare bar for pickup. Your order drops within minutes. You are expected to sprinkle your sugar in quickly, stir and swallow in one deft dance. Done. No lingering. Unless you want the side eye of the staff or the exasperated sighs of other patrons hovering for a pocket of space to pick up their own cup. You get in and you get out. If you have opted for a brioche or similar pastry, the only offerings available on any given morning, you gulp it down or you take it with you.
There is an alternative, another model where you sit down at a proper cafe. Table service, an order as quick and brief, but you can linger and dally over your morning dessert. I almost never do this. The bar is the experience.
The American breakfast is a bit stodgy in comparison. Big, protein-driven, productivity-focused. Long and savory. If you are on the go you reach for a smoothie or a breakfast bar with your big cup of light and sweet. Which is all to say, the ritual of efficiency reigns.
By comparison, the Italian breakfast is a kind of cultural practice. Everyone does it, the same way, every day, all over Italy. And as an American immersed in a culture that celebrates diversity in all things, I think that we can sometimes become disconnected from the unifying practices that Italy quietly protects. There is something deeply attractive about that uniformity. Something that says: this is how we do this here, and we have always done it this way, and we always will.
The rules are simple and worth knowing before you walk through the door. Cappuccino and milk-based drinks are a morning-only affair. Order one in the afternoon and you will be met with something between disdain and genuine concern for your digestive health. No oat milk. No almond milk. No variations. If you have a dairy intolerance, you will take it black because that will be your only alternative and it will be perfect. A plain cornetto in the morning. A bombolone in the afternoon if you need something sweet. Espresso always.
The whole experience will leave you abuzz, externally and internally. The process forces you to be alert before you even have a sip. The noise, the speed, the bodies pressed together at the bar, the ticket in your hand. You are activated before the caffeine even touches your tongue. And when it does, you are immediately on. Charged. Ready. Out the door and into the day.
Here is what I want you to know if you are walking into an Italian bar for the first time, a little intimidated, not sure what to do: Project confidence. Act like you have done this a million times. Get in line. Get your order in quickly. Take your ticket. Move to the bar and wait for your pocket of space. Down it on the spot. Be aware of your surroundings and considerate of the people around you. Do not dilly dally. Do not ask questions. Do not deviate.
Go with the flow. Enjoy one of the most authentic experiences Italy has to offer, hiding in plain sight, every single morning, in every bar on every corner of this country.
It costs less than two euros. It will be one of the best things you do here.
