Sage Heart
"Free tutorial?" I echo when Park--according to his name-tag--answers my question concerning the poster on the wall announcing that because today is the opening day of Jim's Coffee, customers can be taught how to make latte and or espresso.
When Park nods, I beam at him. "I'd like to learn."
His heart is glowing pink (happiness). "Let me fetch you an apron," he says, disappearing for a minute, only to reappear with a yellow apron in his hand, which he proffers to me.
I push my long golden hair away from my shoulders. I hastily tie the yellow apron from the waist down, then roll my blue sleeves up to my elbows.
Park claps his hands, giving me a serious look. "It's time to learn coffee theories. Before you make one, you need to know the theories. You can enjoy it better if you know well! When you drink coffee, you can evaluate it. Understood?"
I nod my head vigorously.
The 20-year-old barista clasps his palms together, a smile playing on his face. "Coffee was found around the 6th and 7th centuries in Ethiopia."
"Ethiopia is in Africa, right?" I interject.
Park smiles broadly. "Correct. Flesh is removed from coffee fruits and seeds are collected. Seeds are processed so that you can drink. Oh. Coffee beans are the seeds of coffee tree."
"Then, beans are all seeds?" I inquire.
"Yes, they are all seeds."
"When you make espresso, you may have seen a barista tamper the ground bean. That's called packing. Dosing means a process to contain ground coffee. There's a process called leveling. It's to make it even, literally."
"Right."
"There's another, tamping. You'll press them." Park gestures his hands over the machines. "It's time to make coffee yourself," he announces with a smile of excitement.
In front of a big, shiny silver machine, Park goads me to step closer to the contraption. "Practice to make latte. You'll make espresso, and go on to make latte." He taps the roof. "This is a porter filter. You will put some ground coffee here. Leveling to make the surface flat. You can do this with your fingers or you can use a tool. Just make sure that the surface is flat."
After I finish tamping, he proceeds to explain the next instructions, demonstrating with his hands on how I should perform the following steps.
"Press the brew button and start pulling the espresso shot. That's how we can get a cup of coffee. Let me tell you how to enjoy it. When you get the espresso, pull the cup like this."
I do as he says. "Wow! You can't see the liquid," I breathe in awe.
"Fresh crema means fresh beans," Park elaborates. "You can do this thanks to the crema. It means beans were fresh. If you can see the black liquid, it's not good. You may feel bitter when you drink it first, because your mouth is coated with saliva. You need to take it out. So, put some in your mouth and move it in the mouth."
"Don't open your mouth when drinking espresso," he warns me. "So that the fragrance won't go away. You can taste it better with the second sip. Enjoy the aroma and body. See how smooth it is when you sip and swallow it. Then, breathe out with your mouth closed. You can enjoy the aftertaste. If the aftertaste is good, it means good coffee."
Park watches me closely. "Don't gargle. Breathe out with your nose. The second taste is the real one."
I make an awkward face. "It tastes like red ginseng," I manage to say.
"I guess it's a bit sour--hold on, why do you know what red ginseng tastes like? Aren't you under eighteen?" Park's eyebrows knit together in suspicion as his eyes squint at me.
"Just a wild guess," I squeak, stifling my laughter.
"Breathe out with your nose. The second taste is the real one. Your lips are trembling."
"It's not as bitter as I expected it to be," I muse pensively, perching the base of the cup on my palm while my free hand clutches the curved handle.
"What should we do now?" I ask, glancing at him.
"Latte's base is espresso. The espresso we brewed is the base of coffee. You may brew the espresso yourself," he delegates.
I murmur, "Its mouthfeel was heavy."
After a few minutes, he says, "It's time to level it. Be careful leveling it." Seconds later, he adds, "Now you can tamp. Press hard. Use your body weight."
When I finish brewing the espresso, my eyes assess the result. "It's very thick.. and dark.." Hesitantly, I raise the cup to my lips and take a thoughtful sip. "I like it," I say, satisfied.
I let Park have a taste. "Well done," he says, looking up from the cup at me.
For the next five minutes, I snap pictures of my coffee, of me holding up the cup, and to commemorate this day, I snap a photo of me and Park with the beverage on the counter.
"I didn't know it takes long to make one," I say while untying my yellow apron.
Park retrieves the apron from my hands and starts to fold it up into a square. "Did you have fun making a latte and espresso?" He eyes me intently, his heart glowing violet (anxious/nervous).
"Yes," I say, smiling at him. "I learned a lot. Thank you for teaching me."
His heart is now glowing a bright pink (happiness). "You're welcome. Wait here for a second." He deposits the apron into a lower cabinet, vanishing from sight, before popping up again to present me with three large white boxes stacked in his arms.
My brows furrow in perplexity. "What are those?"
"Fresh coffee beans," he supplies breathlessly, dumping them on the counter. "You're the first customer to participate in the tutorial, so you get to take these home."
"What?" I exclaim incredulously, my hand fluttering to my throat. "But--"
Park gently taps the top box with his index finger. He smiles at me. "They're all yours."
Knowing it would be rude to protest more, I sigh in defeat, then I remember one of the reasons I went outside today.
"I'd like to buy this," I say, pointing at a round mocha chiffon cake in the long glass case full of cakes in display. "I also want a dedication written on it."
Park passes me a pen and paper, which I use to jot down a heartfelt message while sitting at the counter: Happy Birthday, Park Jimin! 10.13.18. I Purple You!
Didn't Park say that he just turned twenty last week?
I hand the paper over to him, and when he steps through a door titled Authorized Employees Only to write the message in frosting, I frantically reach for another piece of paper and begin my impulsive plan.
Park Jones
After the blonde girl in a dark blue sweater leaves the cafe, I start wiping the counter using a white cloth, humming to myself again.
"Hmm?" I raise a quizzical brow at the square paper sitting on the tissue dispenser.
Picking up the paper, I hold it between my thumb and forefinger, staring down at the words written in harried penmanship: To Park Jones, Belated Happy Birthday!
Underneath the text is an impressive drawing of me engrossed in making coffee while standing behind the L-shaped counter.
She didn't sign her name.
I'm still staring at the drawing when the bell rings again, signaling new customers. I lift my chin to see a group of four teens step into the coffee shop: One guy, probably eighteen, another guy, who looks to be sixteen, and two girls with long dark hair, most likely 14 or 15 years old.
I slide the paper into the pocket of my apron, then, just as I've been trained to do, I smile warmly at the newcomers and say, "Welcome to Jim's Coffee! How may I help you today?"
