Is this Adelaide's biggest cafe? It's almost eerie to perch in an empty Caffe Amore early Wednesday. Patrons or no patrons, the coffee machine/s must go on. The Order: an earlybird large cappuccino for friend of MMC, and a later-comer's small flat white for MMC. The Price: at $3.20 for a small, we're approaching boutique pricing.With a 300+ liquor licence, Amore is a powerhouse on Pulteney (or Pulteny, according to its website). They're impressively equipped for coffee, with multiple machines glinting behind slipper-red benchtops.
The Shopspace: Radelaide.net describes 'warm red tones', but sans morning customer glory, the place shows its truly generic colours. Red, white and black, we know the drill. Online, they distinguish themselves with a corporate-geared order form - just "Pre Fax You [sic] Coffee Order and Receive 10% Discount'. That's initiative.
Friend of MMC has already settled windowside and waded halfway into a mug of 'thin, grey' liquid. MMC approaches the counter and places an order with a pair of skinny leg jeans. The kid must be new, because he thinks-out-loud a la 'how rad is portable POS'. The Greeting: skinnylegs is genial, and the older barista weighs in with a mildly sexist comment. Content aside, such small talk is as endangered as pandas, and less government funded. If we're not careful, hospitable staff will soon be extinct from hospitality. A good barista should be subtly milking you for talking points - a chit-chat a day keeps bankruptcy away.
In a cacophonous age of Cibo beepers, it seems luxurious to have a beverage brought tablewards. The Service: it's quick, but the third lackey staffer is lacking in aforementioned personality. What's in the plain white cup? Vittoria Coffee - doing that 'true blue Italian family business' thang in Oz since 1958. It's a strange brand - the type you recognise vacuum-packed in the supermarket aisles, and see in the background at fine dining restaurants. Either way, Vittoria are proud to be a rich, traditional blend of 100% Arabica, sourced from around the place and served anyplace.
Does the moon hit my eye like a big pizza pie, that's Amore? Not exactly. Flavour: an already rich coffee perhaps overdrawn, it's somehow both thin and bitter. And why are there grounds at the bottom of our cups? Baristacquaintances explain that this 'sometimes just happens', but unlike the Turkish fortune-reading grounds, it doesn't add to the experience. We leave wishing we'd wanted to stay...
The Lesson: if you want to turn one-hit wonders into frequent sippers, start with small talk. Judging by elevator conversations this week, humans will never tire of talking to two topics: the weather, and themselves. Hear me, baristas: more than the pour, it's rapport that will keep 'em flowing.
Link: Get street press without the inky fingers at http://radelaide.net
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