I am presently sitting in Nomad Coffee, a speciality coffee shop in the heart of Barcelona. When I arrived, the coffee shop was devoid of customers (although I arrived almost exactly at opening time, eager to get my coffee fix before the start of the day.)
A few minutes later, the shop is busy: people ordering coffees left and right, literally. Orders in Spanish and English. A woman in a floral skirt waits for their coffee; a man with shoes tied to his backpack orders a washed coffee.
I am fascinated by the coffee preparation process. From where I am currently sitting, I can arrive being collected for an iced drink, a barista preparing a milk drink in a paper; takeaway cup.
The barista removed the portafliter from a group head, then cleans the workstation around the espresso grinders. On the front of his shirt, “Nomad” is written. On the back, “Coffee”.
Preparing coffee for a series of orders looks like a dance. There are delicate parts, like carefully scooping out coffee from a portafliter to make sure the right amount is used. A barista discusses V60s, a method of brewing coffee. There is an artwork featuring the stem of a carousel in a snowy, barren park.
Another customer walks in. “Iced flat white” is said aloud. A person goes to collect their drink.
A inspect my cup, analyzing if there is one more sip of coffee — or rather foam from the top of my cappuccino — that I can drink. I think there is.
I prepare to continue my day.
Other posts in this series
Check out the other posts I have written as part of this series.