The Best Lattes In San Francisco — Ask Us Why!
After gorging on oysters a few weeks ago, Emily and I figured the rest of the day would involve a lot of rest and recuperation from the bivalve overdose. We bid farewell to our Finnish friend Sami and decided to walk off a little of the fullness.
Eventually we found ourselves in the cute and trendy Hayes Valley neighborhood. As we walked, we came upon what turned out to be a rather clever — and effective — marketing ploy: a typical chalkboard advertising sign in front of a small, easily overlooked cafe. “The Best Latte in San Francisico!” it proclaimed in clear white letters and a crisp hand. “Ask Us Why!” We looked at each other, eyebrows raised, and silently turned towards the cafe to scope out the circumstances of this supposed best latte in town.
“Latte” is one of my most favorite words in the English language. (If indeed it is even English!) Equal parts pretentiousness and hipster, there’s something that just feels more sophisticated about saying “soy latte” than “coffee regular.” Now, those who know me well are aware that there’s nothing I like better than a nice, full-fat, triple-shot iced latte in a giant glass (recall our Starbucks adventures in Turkey and Las Vegas), so how could I turn down the opportunity to sample this tiny joint’s supposedly top-notch java?
We walked in, shook off the dampness, and looked around. The narrow cafe consisted of a long bar, six barstools, and not much else. A youthful looking, attractive, slender, and stereotypically gay young man in fashionable jeans, a tight t-shirt and a mop of curls was behind the counter, lazily chopping celery. He greeted us and asked how he could help.
“What makes your latte the best latte in San Francisco?” quizzed Emily, ever the journalist.
“Well, you’d just have to see,” he replied.
Perhaps we let him off easy, but that’s all it took. We chose a couple of barstools, settled in, and ordered 2 hot lattes.
As he made our drinks, another, older cafe worker — perhaps the owner? — came in and began puttering around behind the counter, bantering good-naturedly with the younger barrista. Emily and I joined in the fun, and suddenly we were all in a very intent, loud and raucous discussion about the Spice Girls. I already loved my latte and I hadn’t even tried it yet.
I left the conversation for a moment to pick up a call on my cellphone. As I chatted briefly with my friend Matty, our lattes were placed on the counter — steaming, caramel-colored, frothy brews in ice-cream soda glasses. The barrista quietly asked Emily a question, and pulled out something that contained what looked vaguely like chocolate syrup. He held it over my drink and began deftly and smoothly pouring a thin line of syrup.
“OMG, Matty, I have to go. This dude is writing my name on my latte!”
“Wha—?” =click=
It was by far the coolest beverage I’d ever seen. Emily got a lovely flower-like sunburst design on hers. Our drinks were so pretty we felt bad destroying them. But we slowly sucked them down, enjoying the hint of chocolate and warm milky taste, the cute surroundings and clever comversation with charming employees. When it comes to frothy coffee beverages, I’ve learned that presentation counts for a lot. Our tiny, nameless Hayes Valley cafe was right — I’m pretty sure that they do indeed have the Best Latte in San Francisco.
