Decaf

Some unhappy experiences with decaffeinated coffee – not all of them intentional – had left me averse to trying it again. Those experiences, however, when I stopped to think about them, all dated back to the last century: what if there had been significant improvements in the interim? Decaffeinated espresso in particular is a paradoxical phenomenon: a method specifically designed to deliver a concentrated dose of caffeine perversely deprived of its very raison d’être. Even so, that’s what I decided to try.

I must say I am persuaded of its merits. I’ve been drinking Lavazza Decaffeinato, which I feel provides a better approximation to a ‘proper’ espresso than it has any right to. Of course it’s not a perfect simulacrum: there remains a melancholy note of disappointment in its aftertaste – something is still obviously missing, but it’s an absence that, for me, doesn’t spoil the show. A number of health benefits have, more or less implausibly, been ascribed to decaf. While I don’t lend those claims much credence, I have found that this stuff feels like it’s doing me good.

The plain white cup and saucer in the picture above were made by Wm Bartleet & Sons: I bought a pair of each at a charity shop last year.