A Sprudge.com Special Report From Carrie Bradstrada
“As we drive along this road called life, occasionally an espresso machine will find herself a little lost. And when that happens, I guess she has to let go of the coulda, shoulda, woulda, buckle up and just keep going.”
I walked into the Chelsea Market. The Fat Witch brownies were calling me, but I just kept right on marching down that corridor toward the La Marzocco “Out of the Box” event. With cross-town traffic, it took me two hours to get out my own box, the cramped Upper East Side fifth floor walk-up I call home.
Thinking about the new Strada got me thinking about the men in my life. Men treat espresso machines like an interstate highway: they want to keep driving, passing up perfectly good off-ramps, never looking back, pushing the gas tank and the women who love them to the brink of empty. And why? Because maybe, just maybe, that last exit is the one they’ve been waiting for.
I walked up to the barista on the new machine. She looked like I do after a two-hour spinning session at Crunch downtown! So is this pressure profiling? Or are we just putting baristas under more pressure?
As I mingled with the crowd, I couldn’t help but notice all of the twenty-something guys. There comes a moment when every girl has to ask herself one simple question: sure, he knows how to use a steam wand, but can he be relied upon to calibrate a PID (Pretty Important Diva)? After all, if he’s pulling the shots, who’s calling them?
And that’s when it happened. Sipping a macchiato, I realized what every modern girl in New York wants: she wants it all. Manolo and Hoffmann, Jimmy Choo AND Nick Cho. And that’s when it hit me:
With all this innovation, where’s a girl to go from here? Have we entered the age of La Marzocco Rococo?