In praise of the Flat White

I couldn't find decent coffee in Vietnam, the second largest producer of beans in the world. NZ, however, is a different matter. Coffee is a pretty serious business here, and I still haven't reached Wellington, where it rivals rugby as almost a religion. The particular gift of the Antipodeans to the coffee world is the Flat White, of which there is no direct equivalent in Europe. This is a crime, as it towers above all espresso-based drinks. The closest is France's Cafe au lait, but it's just too milky to do the trick.

To use a hackneyed metaphor, the Flat White is the coffee a daughter would be happy to bring home to meet her parents. You'd be embarrassed to sit down to a first dinner with a Latte, a lanky, disappointing, slip of a thing whose nose would probably run into mum's home-made soup. An espresso, a short fiery man with an advanced sense of his own importance, would argue with your dad. A Cappuccino, the desert of the coffee world, would stand out a mile as a short-term fling, bound not to last and only suitable under certain specific conditions. And as for an Americano? Stronger and bigger than everything else and completely vulgar. But a Flat White, third espresso, third milk and third foam, is a keeper, husband material from the outset. Strong enough, but with an edge of creativity displayed in the swirly pattern on the top (see photo). Just perfecto.