The Caramel Macchiato is one of the best coffee’s made at the The Flower Shoppe Cafe. It is one of my favorite coffees and places, so I visit often.

I find the busy atmosphere mixed with the sounds of coffee to be very compelling.  It is a musical run of hissing humming, whistling gurgling pouring, banging clanging pounding, crescendoed by the  grinding whir of the the beans being pulverized that creates an almost industrial symphony. Then, there is the inevitable deafening moment when the barista cues the silence, and you only hear the fine jewel tinkling sound of  liquid runnelling into the cup.

FIRST THE MILK & VANILLA

I stood by watching, listening to the chorgle and hiss of the steam as it went through the milk. There was the comforting sweet smell of the milk as it warmed and began to steam. The smell of the protein warming, changing into a sweeter, thicker version of the just out of the fridge one, was comforting and familiar. The steam hissed through the pitcher, wafting past the shiny stainless lip, as it billowed the milk into the vortex of a gentle airy milk foam. I had splurged, forgoing the standard no fat, low fat and you could see the gloss of the milk fat hold the air with a pearlescent buttery shimmer.

THEN THE ESPRESSO

And right beside it, the dark amber twin rivers of espresso began to flow out into the glass. It pooled in a opaque nut brown pond, breaking into its layers when the last drizzles were pressed out of the gleaming stainless machine. Then, without waiting to appreciate the dark, rich, warm, nut-like aroma, she began to pour it dead center into the cup of warm foamy milk.

That’s when I could smell it. The mix of vanilla sugar with the creamy lactonic bloom of the milk froth as it was surprised by the espresso staining its way past the ivory white foam. It was like an French Vanilla ice cream sundae and a warm espresso syrup melting the scoops as it puddled below.

SWIRLS OF THICK RICH SWEET BUTTERY CARAMEL

Before I could watch the dark swirls dancing in the milk, a rain of golden caramel redolent with butter swung back and forth and back again over the delicate microfoam. She made a pretty pattern but some, overcome by the heaviness of the next layer began to sink past the foam, beside the dark, dark, dark brown of the espresso, marking the ivory milk in streaks and swirls.

Then, on went the lid and it was there, ready for me to carry like a jewel to the safety confines of my car cup holder.

With a smile no one could see, off came the face mask. Next the cup lid. I brought the cup close to my face and before I could dare take a sip, there was that beautiful fragrant moment of golden warm buttery caramel touching the ever so loved aroma of coffee, all wrapped up in a creamy sigh inducing vanilla cloak. But I did it anyways. I took a sip.

Not like a latte because the espresso had its own place in the flavor story, it was creamy on the tongue, melted caramel thickly coating the sip. And while you are singing like an Ed Sheeran song, happy from this concoction, the strong coffee says, “How you doin” with a wink and a smile to help you remember… this is a coffee.