Not All Foam is Created Equal
An overly-passionate demand for justice on behalf of the traditional cappuccino
Last week, I walked into a coffee shop with the kind of optimism that only exists before your first sip of caffeine. It was one of those places that feels like it knows what it’s doing — glowing reviews, sunlight hitting just right, a neatly written menu, the hum of grinders working in the background. I stepped up to the counter, fully prepared to keep things simple. No personality. Just my standard, everyday coffee order.
“Hi, can I please get a cappuccino with whole milk?”
The barista smiled, nodded, and — all too casually — asked, “hot or iced?”
I paused. Not dramatically (okay, most definitely dramatically), just long enough to consider whether I had somehow missed a major cultural shift. An iced cappuccino? Had this always been happening? Why was it happening? What even is an iced cappuccino? Cold milky chaos.
I recovered, eventually. But before I could answer, she followed up:
“What size?”
“The smallest size you have, please,” I said.
“Is 12oz okay?”
I paused again.
There was a moment — brief, yet notable, where I considered who I wanted to be in this interaction. If I were a more confrontational person, which I’m clearly not, I might have asked her to just… not fill the cup all the way. To give me a cappuccino spiritually, if not physically. But behind me was a line of intimidatingly beautiful, under-caffeinated New York City “cool” girls — sunglasses on, designer bags in hand, and it felt like the wrong time to take a stand — so alas, I surrendered.
“12oz is fine, thank you.”
And like that, I knew exactly what I was about to receive.
Since moving to New York this past year, I’ve spent a lot of time wandering into coffee shops, which feels like the most efficient way to get to know a city. And to be clear, the coffee scene here is good. It’s thoughtful. Trendy. And occasionally intimidating in a way that suggests the barista has a favorite single origin and you probably should too. But despite all of that, I’ve run into the same recurring issue: I keep ordering cappuccinos, and more often than not, I receive… something else. Usually, a nicely presented 12oz latte. To be fair, a latte is lovely. A latte is dependable. A latte is there for you when you need to sit down and spiral for 45 minutes. But a latte is not a cappuccino, I’d rather not sit and spiral for any longer than I already have, and I would argue (controversially, apparently), that the two should not be competing in the same category at the pageant.
A traditional cappuccino is made to be simple:
about 6oz
equal parts espresso, steamed milk, and foam
structured, with a soft, velvety top
It’s a drink with a beginning, middle, and end. And you can finish it before your next email finds you again.
What it is not:
any more than 6oz
mostly milk
something that requires a lid and a long-term commitment (thankfully 😉)
And yet, what typically arrives is exactly that: a larger cup, a lot of milk, and a thin bit of foam — as if it were added simply out of politeness — or the opposite, and I’m not sure which is worse.
I think somewhere along the way, everything just… expanded. Sizes got bigger, menus got longer, prices got higher, and the ever-so-innocent cappuccino got swept up in it all. It adapted and now it shows up rebranded and occasionally followed by the one silly question that keeps me up at night.
“Hot or iced?”
Clearly, we’ve lost the plot.
This is by no means a political manifesto — but if it were, I’d like to consider myself the most passionate advocate for the traditional 6oz cappuccino in the entire tri-state area. And also Illinois.
Part of why I notice it so much is that I used to have a very reliable point of reference. When I was living in Chicago, working the opening shift at Tala, my routine was embarrassingly consistent. I’d complete the setup of the day and leave myself just enough time to make a cappuccino before the rush. It was always the same. It was exactly what it needed to be. Not oversized. And NOT over ice. Just… correct. It was the ideal middle ground: enough caffeine to wake me up, enough to feel satisfying, and finished before anything could interrupt it (most of the time). A perfect, low-stakes win to start the day — just what every directionless post-grad needs.
Now, in a new city, I’ve found myself unintentionally on a very specific quest. Ordering cappuccinos, hoping each one might be the one — the right size, the right texture, and the right balance. The kind that doesn’t need defending or resizing. It’s not about me being overly particular (this time). It’s just about an appreciation for a drink that, at one point, felt very clearly defined to me.
And maybe that’s the real question:
What ever happened to letting a cappuccino just be a cappuccino? Has a cappuccino ever just been a cappuccino?
Rachel Severyns
Meet Rachel, our long-distance Marketing Operations Manager and a familiar face at our Libertyville café. A loyal stripes enthusiast and daily cappuccino devotee, her whimsical spirit shines through in everything she does. Although she now calls New York City home, you just might spot her behind the bar from time to time, jumping in for a shift whenever she’s back in town.