Residing in SE1 has many advantages: the 30-minute Thames-side amble from Covent Garden, the Tate Modern in pick-ya-nose-and-flicking distance and of course all the fruits of Borough Market, and I’m not just talking satsumas.
The renowned provisions and commodities trader is bursting with bistros, bars, and well-trained baristas. Foodies, vino-slurpers and those that love the humble bean gravitate toward the stalls enriched with international produce, quality nosh in the plethora of restaurants and roasting aromas from the caffeine-filled black stuff.
Situated on the corner of Park Street, bang opposite the Old Smoke’s beefy grandfather of markets is Monmouth’s, arguably the gold bean medal-donner of coffee shops in Blighty.
When Mr S6 (moi’s boyf) embarked on the process of opening a hair salon in Crouch End, I knew there was only one sun-dried fix worth fermentation space in his business’s kitchen.
Monmouth began their roasting journey in 1978. Decades of refining and mastering the art of blending a tiny pit from a red and purple cherry-like fruit from the arabica plant, and one can understand why Monmouth is precious about their percolation.
If you have a business and wanna buy Monmouth coffee wholesale, the milling mogul insists you undertake three hours of training at their Maltby Street head office.
Three hours to be taught how to crema an espresso and pour a heart shape into the head of a latte might seem like one macchiato too many. But, both bewitched by Monmouth’s americano, we embraced the coffee connoisseurs’ course.
King barista Mike was our tutor for the elected time, and boy does he know his beans.
There’s a similarity between wine-tasting and coffee-sampling. Mike’s initial aim was to help us understand the difference between a decent espresso and a corked shot.
For the caffeine-laced stuff, it’s all about the grind consistency and pressure. You get either of these askew and you might as well be swigging Nescafé.
If the grind of the bean is too fine you’ll experience woody, bitter, ashy and burnt flavours, but if the grind if too thick the taste is sharp, acidic, sour and metallic – like licking a tin can.
The flow rate is equally as important. If you over-pack ya portafilter it’s as if you’re squeezing offshore profits out of David Cameron. Under-pack and it flows quicker the Boris Johnson can say Brexit. Either way can bring on above said flavours and mar the perfect espresso.
Monmouth’s ethos, espresso-tasting, cappuccino-frothing and latte heart-attempting made up the rest of the coffee workshop. The time shot by, we espresso-d our gratitude and we’ve bean eager baristas ever since.
