Sludge

I love coffee. No, correction: I’m totally addicted to coffee. I spent half a year studying in Italy, where I used to drink seven to eight espressos a day. The result: I couldn’t sleep and I was moody most of the time. Upon my return home, I swore off the black “sludge”, as Ed, one of my dear friends, calls it… but not for long. I just couldn’t resist.

Malta, as a former British colony, is more of a “tea nation”. Then again, our little rock lies just beneath Sicily, so espresso – the “real” coffee – is readily available. Not all bar attendants are familiar with the different types of espresso, though. Once Andre’ and I went to Birgu for cake and, you guessed it… a nice espresso. It had been a very long day, and we needed a caffeine kick, so we ordered an “espresso doppio” (a double espresso). Unfortunately, something went wrong in the preparation and I ended up sipping a thick insoluble mix of ground coffee… Not very appealing.

My friends don’t understand my coffee addiction (and let's face it, Andre's quite fond of the black sludge too). When they invite us for dinner, we have to take our Bialetti coffee maker with us. Why? Because we refuse to drink tea after eating (not the ideal drink to digest a good meal, but nice with scones on a cold winter afternoon) and we absolutely hate Nescafé (how was that ever labelled as coffee?).

In the end, living in a country where the British and the Italian culture go hand in hand, we have the best of both worlds: afternoon tea and morning coffee (I’m not referring those awfully dry “Morning Coffee” biscuits here!). And the best part is: all the great Italian brands can be found in any supermarket (Lavazza, Illy, Segafredo…). What more can a girl ask for?