Telescope | Aussie in France

The first time I went to Telescope in rue Villedo near the Palais Royal about a year ago, it felt like an insiders’ club. No one greeted me. The only thing written on the blackboard was café, there was no menu and I had to ask someone if they could remove their books from the only available chair and table. When I asked for a cappuccino, I had the impression I had committed sacrilege.

However, after reading an article in Le Monde about the new coffee scene in Paris, I decided to give Telescope another chance. To quote Le Monde*, “Over the last few months, scores of coffee bars have appeared in Paris, to the great satisfaction of students and foreign tourists, delighted to be able to have a decent coffee at last, and not those horrible petits noirs with their bitter smell of soot that leave a taste of cold tobacco in your mouth”. Telescope was on the list.

It’s a beautiful sunny day, an unbelievable 24° after a terrible cold rainy spring. I see a couple of people sitting on the ledge outside. When I walk in, I can see some changes. The blackboard has acquired a few more entries, there are lots of cakes and the waitress greets me. I ask if I can have a latte and sit down.

I watch what the barista is doing and he gives me a friendly smile. My latte is ready so I go to the counter to get it. “Bonjour“, I say, “I’m just wondering exactly what the difference is between a latte and a cappuccino”, I continue in French. He starts to answer and I hear his accent so I switch to English. “Oh, Australian”, he says. I laugh. “Kiwi then?” “No, Australian”.

He explains that lattes differ from one coffee bar to another and that the only thing that really has a definition is cappuccino. I’m relieved. What I encountered in Australia under the name of latte seemed to be what I had been ordering in Italy as a cappuccino. So, it has one shot of coffee and the rest is foamed milk. Lattes usually have more less milk.

Tom, it turns out, comes from Nambour, just north of Brisbane, so he’s a fellow Queenslander, who trained in Dublic as a barista and has been at Telescope for about six months. I start telling him about my espresso machine adventures.

Three people come in and order a filtered ice coffee and an espresso. I am surprised to see that Tom is weighing everything – the beans, then the ground coffee, and later the espresso itself. He explains it’s an exact science. So what happens if the weight of the final coffee (the “yield”) is wrong? He throws it out and starts again !

The filtered ice coffee is even more intriguing. The machine consists of a bottom scale and a top drip system whose coffee pot looks like an hourglass-shaped wine carafe. First he puts ice cubes in, checking their weight. Then he puts a filter in the neck of the carafe and adds the weighed ground coffee which is more concentrated than for an espresso.

The water starts dripping through the filter; the resulting coffee drips into the carafe and onto the ice cubes. Tom puts a weighed amount of ice in the two glasses, tips out any melted water then pours in the coffee, making sure that the ice cubes don’t escape. Ready to go! I’m intrigued. Do French people order that? No, just English speakers!

Pouring the iced coffee into the glasses

I ask whether there are any chances of a barista lesson and I am delighted to hear that several other people have also expressed there interest and that when they have at least five, they’ll run a class on Sunday morning. All I have to do is “like” their facebook page and watch for the announcement.

I walk out entirely satisfied with my visit and eager for my first barista class. Who wants to join me?

*A Paris, la revanche du petit noir by Emmanuel TresmontantLE MONDE,13.04.2013

This is a follow-up to The Truth about Making Cappuccino Part 1

Télescope, 5 rue Villedo, Paris 75001, Monday to Friday, 8.30 am to 6.30 pm, Saturday and Sunday, 9.30 am to 6.30 pm. http://www.telescopecafe.com/; https://www.facebook.com/telescopecafe (you don’t have to have a Facebook account to access the page)

You may remember my desperate attempts to make cappuccino during the winter. Well, now I know the truth. It’s the espresso machine that makes all the difference.

I now have intimate knowledge of three different machines: the cheap-O model we bought new in a second-hand shop somewhere near Blois, the superduper expensive Pavoni that grinds the coffee as well and a mid-range non-grinding DeLonghi bought for Closerie Falaiseau when the cheap-O one gave up the ghost. From the very first cup, the DeLonghi produced perfect milk foam.

Initially, I thought it was because I had acquired the requisite skills but when our first guests arrived at the Closerie and we moved into the kitchen of the little house, I used the cheap-O one that Jean Michel had repaired in the meantime. The first foam was a complete failure. Just sticking the milk jug under the wand no longer worked.

We got back to Paris and I used the superduper Pavoni again, the results were just as disastrous. It took me a few days to remember the method I had precariously developed previously. But the results are still not as good as they are with the DeLonghi.

Now what is it that makes the DeLonghi so much better than the others?

For all three, I’m using half-fat milk and I’m putting my little stainless steel jug in the fridge. All three wands are straight although I’ve read that they’re supposed to be at a 45° angle. I still can’t see why tipping the jug to form the same angle with the milk doesn’t achieve the same result, by the way, but maybe someone can supply the reason.

When I first saw the DeLonghi in the shop, I was very dubious. The wand is much shorter than the other two and has a thick almost cone-shaped skirt but the guy selling it at Darty in Blois assured me it would be perfect. He said he’d worked as a garcon de café in Paris in his previous life. Not that that was really a recommendation. We all know how terrible coffee is in most French bars.

Anyway, when I tried it out, it was perfect. It’s also very easy to clean – you just unscrew the skirt and rinse it under the tap. With the cheap-O one and the Pavoni, you need a wet cloth to wipe off the milk immediately.

So what do you do if you don’t have a wand with a little cone-shaped skirt? The trick is to keep the tip of the wand just under the level of the milk, so that it’s not making big bubbles. You can see the milk sort of being sucked into the tip of the wand. As the foam develops and the milk takes up more volume, you have to move the jug down so that the tip remains just below the surface.

Once you feel the milk heating up (you need to keep your hand around the jug), you have to turn off the steam quite quickly or you’ll scald the milk which gives it a sickly sweet taste. With the Pavoni, it happens really quickly. I don’t have the same problem with the DeLonghi.

Of course, it’s not that easy to practice without using up lots of milk but someone came up with a brilliant substitute. Just one tiny drop of washing up liquid in water will, astonishingly, produce the same results. Well, at least it gives you a better feel of what’s going on without wasting lots of milk.

The real thing - Tom's latte at Telescope — The real thing – Tom’s latte at Telescope

I haven’t made it to latte art yet. What I really need is a lesson. And I’m not even sure what the difference between cappuccino and latte really is! So I’m off to Téléscope in rue Villedo to find out. I’ll tell you all about it in Part 2 next week.

from the Tropics to the City of Light

Aussie in France

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The Truth about Making Cappuccino Part 2

The Truth about Making Cappuccino Part 1

from the Tropics to the City of Light