Some days a small thing makes my big city feel cozy small. One Saturday last month we were headed to the gym and stopped for a little coffee-caffeine on the way, thanks to the generosity of one of my students during Christmastime. My husband always does iced (my barista experience taught him to appreciate good lattes) and I always do hot.
I tried the new spicy vanilla latte. And he, his usual iced caramel macchiato (oh Starbucks. Only you could take something simple like coffee and complicate it like nobody’s business. That doesn’t mean I don’t love a good grande (or, if we’re feeling adventurous, venti – I always feel a little silly uttering the word twenty in Italian. in America.) skim, caramel, full caff, no whip, half-flavor-syrup anything.
Just wanted to share the moment where this particular Barista made my day. Instead of naming us by our drink of choice, she penned my latte with an “Aly.” My husband’s, per his suggestion, a humble “Mr. Aly.” Hehe. In the world of busy, overcaffeinated cityfolk, this touch of personality made my day.