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Hey hipsters, hands off my flat white Hey hipsters, hands off my flat white
(2 months later)
I've always I've always thought my choice of a flat white was fairly uncomplicated and unpretentious (much like I imagined myself), but it seems it has now become one of the defining elements of being a hipster, at least in some parts of London.
thought my choice of a flat white was fairly uncomplicated and unpretentious On Sunday, the Observer asked, “Could it be that the flat-white-drinking, flat-cap-wearing hipster will soon cease to exist?” And in the Telegraph, confessing that you drink a flat white will score you three out of a possible four points in its Are you a hipster? quiz. Elsewhere in the Telegraph, Olivia Goldhill not only equates flat white drinking with being a hipster, but questions whether the drink actually exists: “Just keep on following the herd and pray you’re never given a taste test between a flat white and a latte.”
(much like I imagined myself), but it seems it has now become one of the I would happily take that test. I’ve always thought that it’s pretty easy to tell the difference: a latte has more milk. Edward Cutcliffe, who owns the Little Marionette coffee roastery and cafes in Sydney, says the average flat white has a shot, or two shots, of espresso and about 180ml of milk, while a latte contains more than 220ml milk. There’s also differences in the type of glass it's served in, and the way the milk is heated. A flat white shouldn’t be frothed.
defining elements of being a hipster, at least in some parts of London. The Telegraph’s character assassination of flat white drinkers also claimed: “You work in a creative industry you wish was slightly more creative, hang out at Dalston Street food fairs and are trying to pretend you never actually thought beards were cool.”
On Sunday, Ouch. I get that it’s easy journalistic shorthand to match stereotypes to certain beverages. Chardonnay socialist and inner-city latte sipper are both well-worn political insults in Australia (sipping being rather more effeminate than chugging, as you would with an honest, true-blue drink like XXXX). I also get that there are different connotations to the drink in London, but I would urge the haters to put their principles on hold for a bit and, as I say to my two-year-old when I try to feed her cooked pumpkin: “Just try it. You might like it.”
the Observer asked, “Could it be that the flat-white-drinking, What I love about the flat white is that it’s the perfect blend of bitter and smooth. And while the latte is a little like drinking a warm coffee milkshake, the flat white is a grown-up drink. It’s also a blank canvas for the bored barista to knock out a fern for you, a little heart when you’re feeling down, or a shamrock on St Patrick’s Day.
flat-cap-wearing hipster will soon cease to exist?” And in the Telegraph, confessing that you drink a flat white will score you three out of a possible four points in It’s not too fancy; the middle ground between International Roast or Nescafe Blend 43 and a single-origin, cold-drip filter or something that has been through the digestive tract of a civet. It’s also kinder than a harsh, bitter long black and stands on its own without sugar.
its Are you a hipster? quiz. Elsewhere in the Telegraph, Olivia Goldhill not only As to who can claim credit for the invention of the flat white, it’s clearly Australian in origin, just like the pavlova and the lamington. At best, it’s a cross-Tasman collaboration like Crowded House. Cutcliffe is more generous: “The flat white has done amazing things for the English coffee scene and it was New Zealanders who introduced it. I’ll give them kudos on this one. They’re only a small country, so when they do something, they want to do it well to prove themselves.”
equates flat white drinking with being a hipster, but questions whether the drink actually exists: “Just keep on following the herd and pray you’re Cutliffe, who has also set up a small-batch roastery in the UK called the Roasting Party, says the insult is outdated anyway: “Hipsters in London moved on from the flat white long ago."
never given a taste test between a flat white and a Since you can now buy a flat white in Costa coffee and Peter Andre was enlisted to launch them, I think he is right that they have lost their cachet somewhat. Hipsters in Brunswick or Surry Hills or Auckland have moved on in their preferences too. For a while it was all about the double riz (ristretto), now it’s filter coffee or batch brewing (which is a bit like the coffee percolators they used to have in McDonald's before even they were replaced by espresso machines). “It’s not cool to drink milk anymore if you are a hipster,” Cutcliffe says.
latte.” But even those drinks are probably uncool by the time I realise they’re a thing. Maybe it will come full circle, and tomorrow hipsters will be drinking Nescafe in a post-ironic way, but I would be upset if that happened. For all the hipster hate out there, it’s worth conceding that the flat white, the filter, the cold drip are all gifts the bearded ones have brought us. And for that I’m grateful.
I would happily take that test. I’ve always
thought that it’s pretty easy to tell the difference: a latte has more milk.
Edward Cutcliffe, who owns the Little Marionette coffee roastery and cafes in
Sydney, says the average flat white has a shot, or two shots, of espresso and
about 180ml of milk, while a latte contains more than 220ml milk. There’s also
differences in the type of glass it's served in, and the way the milk is heated.
A flat white shouldn’t be frothed.
The
Telegraph’s character assassination of flat white drinkers also claimed:
“You work in a creative industry you wish was slightly more creative, hang out
at Dalston Street food fairs and are trying to pretend you never actually
thought beards were cool.”
Ouch. I get
that it’s easy journalistic shorthand to match stereotypes to certain
beverages. Chardonnay socialist and inner-city latte sipper are both well-worn
political insults in Australia (sipping being rather more effeminate than
chugging, as you would with an honest, true-blue drink like XXXX). I also get
that there are different connotations to the drink in London, but I would urge
the haters to put their principles on hold for a bit and, as I say to my
two-year-old when I try to feed her cooked pumpkin: “Just try it. You might
like it.”
What I love
about the flat white is that it’s the perfect blend of bitter and
smooth. And while the latte is a little like drinking a warm coffee
milkshake, the flat white is a grown-up drink. It’s also a blank canvas for the
bored barista to knock out a fern for you, a little heart when you’re feeling down, or a shamrock on St Patrick’s Day.
It’s not too fancy; the middle ground between
International Roast or Nescafe Blend 43 and a single-origin, cold-drip filter or
something that has been through the digestive tract of a civet. It’s also
kinder than a harsh, bitter long black and stands on its own without sugar.
As to who can claim credit for the invention of the flat white, it’s clearly Australian in origin, just like the pavlova
and the lamington. At best, it’s a cross-Tasman collaboration like Crowded
House. Cutcliffe
is more generous: “The flat white has done amazing things for the English
coffee scene and it was New Zealanders who introduced it. I’ll give them kudos
on this one. They’re only a small country, so when they do something, they want
to do it well to prove themselves.”
Cutliffe, who has
also set up a small-batch roastery in the UK called the Roasting Party, says
the insult is outdated anyway: “Hipsters in London moved on from the flat white
long ago."
Since you can now buy a flat white in Costa coffee
and Peter Andre was enlisted to launch them, I think he is right that they have lost their cachet somewhat. Hipsters in Brunswick or Surry Hills or Auckland have
moved on in their preferences too. For a while it was all about the double riz
(ristretto), now it’s
filter coffee or batch brewing (which is a bit like the coffee percolators they
used to have in McDonald's before even they were replaced by espresso machines). “It’s not cool to drink milk anymore if you are a hipster,” Cutcliffe says.
But even those drinks are
probably uncool by the time I realise they’re a thing. Maybe it will come full
circle, and tomorrow hipsters will be drinking Nescafe in a post-ironic way,
but I would be upset if that happened. For all the hipster hate out there, it’s
worth conceding that the flat white, the filter, the cold drip are all gifts
the bearded ones have brought us. And for that I’m grateful.