Fighting a jet-lagged daze this afternoon and going through stacks of papers as I wait for my luggage to arrive. I made my very tight connection in Paris for a 7:15 am connecting flight -- my bags did not.
Once home, showered and after my first plate of pasta in 12 days (!!!), my husband made the espresso....ahhhhh, another first pleasure of being home. Although I do enjoy a mug of American coffee in the morning when I am in the States, that post-pranzo espresso zing cannot be reproduced anywhere beyond the alps to the same effect.
To compensate,I indulged in a few Starbucks moments during my trip -- notably one while waiting for a mall to open on a very rainy cold morning to pick up Brooks Brother shirts for my brother-in-law.
I carefully studied the menu and found something based on a surprisingly simple concept: coffee and milk. It was called Caffè Misto and consisted of brewed coffee and steamed milk. To accompany such a delight I decided on a multi-grain muffin.
Confident with my uncomplicated choice, I ordered, only to find more choices thrown back at me! Did I want "bold" or "mild" coffee? Did I want the muffin on a plate? Did I want "utensils" with that too?
Choice, choice, choice, everywhere, all the time for every item ordered: type of salad dressing, cooking length for meat, potatoes or rice, cheese on top, it never seemed to end. How exhausting in general but really too much to ask before you have even had a cup of coffee!
a domani from warm and summy Rome,