Madrid called me around the holidays (actually Spanish Television called to do a table read in the never-ending journal to get the Media Guy Struggles pilot made into something real – in any language) and I was all in.

As is the case back home near Hollywood, I didn’t sleep much. Because of that I got up close and personal with Spanish coffees looking to keep that edge and get my show made.

If I had to guess I would say that America became obsessed with Starbucks (west coast) Dunkin’ Donuts (east coast) coffee not for the taste, but for the simplicity – it was much easier to simply order “a cup of coffee.” Not to mention the to-go factor. As a culture, we’ve developed a global stereotype (particularly acknowledged by Europeans and Middle Easterners) that our coffee is watered down, dull and hardly enjoyed, sipped or swigged in huge cups at the speed of a 7-Eleven Big Gulp®. It wasn’t until the introduction of Starbucks that we thought we got a little more class, that our coffee consumption skyrocketed to include fancy-pants sizes and milk variations with shiny flamboyant Italian nicknames.

Then around 2005 something called the Gibraltar happened in San Francisco to a once-little company named Blue Bottle Coffee – which if you know anything about being hip has helped spawn a catalyst within the Northern California coffee movement, as well as along the West Coast, over to New York and popping up in London (although they have a lot of influence from the Aussies, whom also make excellent coffee). But did that really happen? Was that really an invention? Or a renaming of the existing Spanish cortado? All finger pointing aside, coffee and espresso drinks are some of the most widely consumed beverages in the world, and the manner in which they are ordered and prepared differs according to countries, backgrounds or the baristas’ habits.

The Spanish people have developed quite a taste, or perhaps dependency on coffee since its arrival from Turkish immigrants in the 17th century. The general consensus is that the coffee here is good, although it may be argued that the coffee tastes better in Italy and Portugal, and certainly worse in France.

What do you need to know to order an espresso drink or coffee in Spain?

Spaniards aren’t known to eat a hefty breakfast, in fact for a true experience during your stay in the country, steer clear of restaurants or cafes offering an American or British breakfast. On a given day, the local eateries will be filled with common citizens, or even hotshot politicians (if they dare show their faces), munching a pastry, or toasts with tomato pulp with their café con leche, 1:1 ration of strong coffee or espresso with steamed milk, or what we might register as a caffé latte.

That said, coffee in Spain is consumed at all hours of the day, particular after larger meals or in the late afternoon at the merienda hour (5-7p roughly) served alongside a slice of olive oil or egg yolk cakes. Besides this fact — you’ll soon see for yourself during your time in Spain a culture of tomando un café (or tomar un café — to have a coffee) via patios, terraces, cafes, bars, gas stations, and restaurants offering all sorts of food stuff but also always coffee, and this practice is not only a time for caffeine, but an opportunity to catch up and meet with friends, family, colleagues, or intercambios (language exchanges).

Café Solo – a very strong and small serving of coffee; generally a single shot of espresso. I have no statistics to prove this theory, but I most commonly witness people ordering this version after lunch for a quick pick-me-up, therefore reducing the likelihood of falling into a food coma, or after dinner for the sobremesa chats and table lingering.

Café Solo Doble* – same as above but with a double shot of espresso and maybe a larger vessel (pending the bar/cafe)

(Café) Cortado – an espresso cut with steamed milk (from Spanish verb cortar), typically 1:1 – 2:1 espresso to milk ration, and served in a short and stout glass. It’s similar to the piccolo in Australia, the Gibraltar in US and to the Italian version of a caffé macchiato. Popularly ordered around the merienda hours to give a little jolt as well as the illusion of eating something sweet between meals (with the addition of sugar packets most likely).

Café con Leche – to reiterate from above, this is one of Spain’s most popular drinks, and often the favorite for its balanced flavors and comforting sensations, equal parts milk and coffee. Breakfast is a common timeframe for this size, as is the merienda a 5pm snack hour, but it’s really as classic as El Clasico (a futbol / soccer match). Sometimes this drink will be served table-side, with the waiters pouring the (very) hot milk into a short & skinny glass, or wide brimmed demitasse cup.

(Café) Americano – an espresso shot served in a larger glass and watered down. Usually ordered by out-of-towners looking to replace their usual coffee routine since you won’t find filtered coffee in many places in Spain; espresso machines are the norm, or instant coffee.

Café Manchado – a less common order, but a popular choice nonetheless for those that like their caffeinated beverages just “stained,” the literal term for staining a short (café con leche) glass of milk with a small amount of espresso. May also be referred to on some menus as a lágrima – from other Spanish speaking countries like Argentina.

Café con Hielo – during the hot summer months the Spaniards cool down with this espresso and ice cubes, served in a whiskey glass.

Café Suizo – a shot of espresso served with a dollop of whipped cream; identical to the Italian ‘espresso con panna’ although not very common on Spanish menus.  (I like La Granja Viader in Barcelona for this drink because of their homemade cream).

Café Bombon – a café solo (espresso) served with a hefty spoonful of condensed milk, thought to have originated in Valencia, Spain.

Carajillo – a café solo served with a touch of brandy, although whiskey or rum can be substituted.

Trifásico – a less common and often regionally ordered drink along the Costa Brava and Costa Blanca, the trifásico includes three ingredients: coffee, milk/cream/or condensed milk and a liquor (usually anything from whiskey, brandy to Baileys).

Know your caffeine preference upfront, otherwise they will assume you want regular or strong espressos and coffee. Typically decaffeinated, descafeinado, comes from an instant coffee packet,  so if you want decaffeinated and from the espresso machine you must request for example, café _________ + descafeinado de maquina.

AND if you didn’t have enough already: You also have the option to speak up about your exact coffee preferences; so with the cortado or the café con leche you could order ‘corto de café’ (literally short on coffee) or ‘largo de café’ (long on coffee).

*Double shots – If you’re looking for more caffeine that resembles a ristretto then you’ll need to request that your drink be made as a double shot; the standard is one. To do this, use the above terminology but add doble to the end, e.g. Café con leche doble, cortado doble, manchado doble.
**Also note in Spain, unlike in Italy (or other countries that I haven’t visited yet), if you would like a glass of water to go with your coffee, you must ask your server for it – un vaso de agua por favor.

Sugars / Sweeteners
Spaniards are quite generous with their sugar packets, the processed white variety, or common table sugar. Bars and cafés often put of a lot of effort into insuring that theirs are printed with their business name and address (reminds me of the omnipresent matches in the US during the 90s). Should you need more however, simply ask “me traes /or me das un poco de azúcar por favor?” (will you bring / give me sugar please?). If you’re a fiend for raw sugar, azúcar de caña,  is the courser, less processed version (sometimes) available.

Honey is very rare to accompany coffee in Spain, but still worth a shot if this is your preference, and you ask nicely. The word for honey is (la) miel.

Now the above mentioned list should allow you to order a coffee or espresso throughout any part of Spain with no problems. Be sure to visit my favorite neighborhood vendors and recommended coffee shops; Toma Café in Madrid, La Bicicleta, and Satan’s Coffee Corner in Barcelona (more Spanish coffee shop recommendations at bottom of page).

However, if you plan to “monkey see monkey do” and order a coffee like a local when in Málaga, then pay attention to the following:

Café Central tucked along a narrow side street in the old city of Málaga has claimed the invention of the following coffee ordering standard, a brain scramble, un cacao mental, for outsiders but none the less a fascinating Andalusian idiosyncrasy. The story goes that the camarero, D. José Prado Crespo, or Pepe for short, was fed up of dealing with crazy customers requests, “Pepe ponme un poquito más” “a little more coffee/milk” or “¡ya está! suficiente leche ya” “OK, that’s enough milk.” He developed a ten level café system to simplify his work life as well as the lives of his coworkers.

Ordering a coffee in Málaga, Spain requires a bit of practice. Or point and smile : )

Since its conception, the system has been adopted by the majority of the baristas and servers around Málaga. It goes like this: nube, sombra, corto, entrecorto, mitad, solo corto, semi-largo, largo, and the solo. The nube, or cloud, contains a splash of coffee, the mitad is equal parts 1:1 coffee and milk, and the solo is the same as in the rest of Spain, all black. However nowadays we give the servers even more work, non-fat milk, soy requests, or even the size of the glass is ultimately “your wish is my command.”

If the above is altogether too complicated, ordering “un cappuccino, por favor,” will be internationally understood. Just keep your standards in check, this won’t be Italy — which according to the INEI consists of: “traditional cappuccinos are made up of 25ml of espresso and 125ml of steam-whipped milk, starting with cold milk (3-5°C) and brought to a temperature of about 55°C and then poured over Italian certified espresso in a cup the size of 150-160ml. The milk must be fresh bovine with a minimum of 3.2% proteins and 3.5% fat, and steam-whipped in a specific way.” Precise isn’t it?

Maybe a café con leche in Spain is the way to go after all!

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First, the big news…

It only took three years, but my movie “Black Hand” is set to premiere in South Korea. The thriller I penned (and was later translated by the great Byeon Hye-joo) has a wonderful cast including Han Go-eun who goes a bit haywire after her new hand she had surgically attached provides some eerie drama. Not for the weak of heart. Maybe a Grand Bell Award (aka Daejong Film Award) is in my future.

Okay, so where am I?

There is no truth to the rumor I am in South Korea attending the premiere of Black Hand. AND, I may or may not be in working on my next pieces of advertising so that my next Emmy submissions are top notch.

What I can tell you is that I may have detoured through Pamplona, Spain for the running of the bulls, aka  the Las Fiestas de San Fermin. There’s something you feel in the soul when you hear the rustling of the crowd eager to soak in the testosterone cloud emitted from the raging bulls. You feel an aura around you, as if you were part of the herd. A day in Pamplona does nothing but help you on your journey towards inner chi.

Those that know me will know that I’ve long said to my best buddy Charles that we are simply on a vision quest…just trying to find a place in the circle. The running is definitely part of the grand quest. It’s also one of the world’s most dangerous spectacles (and also one of the true parties left on this planet). To succeed you must avoid being gored. You must also be three things: Cautious. Sober. Fast.

That being said, you cannot be afraid of the bulls. I refuse to be. After all, there are scarier clients in the boardroom after a bad advertising campaign that cost millions. When I find myself in the herd’s center, I feel a sublime safety. “How is that possible?”, you ask… When you are are part of the herd, the bulls are somehow united with your being. They sense you are part of the herd, running with them every step of the way. I despise those “daredevils” that need to put their hands on them, pushing, hitting or grabbing them. That went they get defensive. That’s when the fire burns deep inside these magnificent creature. True runners know this truth: Never touch the bulls.

THE VIRGIN RUN

I remember my first run. I was shut out the previous time I went because I was in advertising executive mode — at the hotel awaiting my continental breakfast and a private sedan ride to the run. That was definitely not a recipe for success. I couldn’t even get close enough to take a picture of the bulls let alone run with them. The next time was different. I decided to stay up all night and be in prime position near the arena. I nodded off in a restaurant doorway only to be shoo’ed away by the local police and general treated like a vagabond. I mean do they know who I am?

I jokingly thought I was a kinda of big deal, ala Ron Burgundy. I learned pretty quick that the bulls are the only big deal in Pamplona. In my 3am haze, I staggered to the Hemingway statue.

Hemingway Aside #1: This is definitely one off the oddest statues I have ever seen. The full-bearded depiction of the literary giant shows him in his stoic glory, the bust meticulously finished and polished. Then, they took this beautiful bust and dumped it onto a mess of a concrete block as if the money for the project ran out. Strange indeed.

Hemingway Aside #2: His work was the fodder of inspiration. Do you remember the books we were assigned to read? The Count of Monte Cristo, the Three Musketeers and the like? Yawnsville. Hemingway’s work was relatable and adventurous: old fishermen and soldiers and street fighters. You wanted to write like him. And you did, until you found your own style. He once wrote, “There is nothing better than to be shot at and missed.” What could sum up a grand adventure better than that?!

Yet I digress…

At the foot statue of the statue sits a lovely makeshift bed in the form of a rounded brick slope. I rested there until the dawn’s sun served as my alarm clock. Workers had already secured the barricades about 100 feet away and so I wandered to Telefonica; that’s the area where the street widens and it becomes impossible to keep the herd of bulls grouped together. I must say that the locals are nothing short of stunning—both sexes. As a younger Media Guy, my flirt scale was still on 9,000 RPMs and thus I tried my best non-gawking Spanglish on the any young lady who stopped long enough. Some made eyes, some whispered “gringo”, but most just giggled at my one hundred poorly-constructed words of Spanish. Then, panic set in.

The police line came from nowhere, reminiscent of a swarm of locust striking some unsuspecting farmer’s crops. The line closed in and pushed everyone up the street and through the first barricade on the first intersection on Estafeta. Everyone scattered from down side streets, through alleys and around building. I was already tired and I hadn’t seen a bull yet. My chest ached and then I heard the beacon of hope: the loudspeakers blaring something in multiple languages. I followed the voice like those hypnotized Eloi as they moved towards the Morlock’s underground horror pit in The Time Machine.

All at once I was trapped in a sea of humanity. The body-to-body pressure was crushing and it ebbed and flowed in unison with our collective breathing. Dawn had turned into 7:45a and the loudspeaker finally started screaming in English, which turned out to be more startling than the suffocating crowd:

“Bull runners are in danger of great bodily harm—if you fall down, stay down.”

This only charged the crowd as the murmur turned into a roar of great proportions. It took a few moments until the police line broke free and we unraveled up the street. I moved to to La Curva, aka the curve, aka Dead Man’s Corner, aka Hamburger Wall. This was THE SPOT. This is where the herd crashes every morning. The media and photographers hang here, protected from the police with the media badges. My international press card came in handy here as I flashed it liberally to avoid being moved yet again.

A rocket screamed into the sky and was quickly followed by a second. The crowd in the balconies and behind the remaining barricades surged with energy and wild noise. The runners were now in full motion, flowing around the corner and past me creating a breeze. Their expressions ran the full gambit of emotions: Cavalier. Scared. Excited.

The ground began to quake as a the galloping murmur of hooves grew to rumble. The mass of runners poured around the curve dressed in white with red scarves. It was dense and carries a certain stench of sweat and fear. This group was united in terror and each second seemed like hours. Time was grinding to halt and then, it simply froze.

Cartoons like to show the bull staring across at the matador with menacing red eyes. I often laughed at that as a child, but as the massive brown bull streaked around the curve I locked into his eyes. If I were older, my heart surely would have stopped as his red eyes literally put me squarely in his own bullseye. The unforgiving cobblestones could not absorb me or shield me from death. But then a foolish angel intervened. A runner crossed in front of me and took the full force of the lead bull’s forehead. As if in slow-motion, the man hovered on a blanket of air above the bull’s head as his arms flailed higher above as five other bulls thundered past. The man crashed to the side of me and he scurried towards safety, somehow gaining his feet. A giant white steer basically said “not so fast” as he barreled towards the man plowed through him, its hooves gobbling him up. The high-pitched grown that squeezed from his chest still haunts me today. Somehow he limped away without serious damage.

Two lives saved.
One grand story.
Viva los toros!

AD OF THE WEEK/MONTH/WHATEVER

M&M’s Tainted Love Spot

“Our latest commercial shows how irresistible M&M’s really are in a way that’s part comedy, and part soap opera,” says BBDO VP of Marketing Berta de Pablos-Barbier. “We think viewers will have fun with all the twists and turns, and see how it’s even more fun to share M&M’S Chocolate Candies versus keeping them all for yourself.”

Fittingly, the 80’s classic “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell closes out the spot.

WAXY FUN

I couldn’t resist sharing this from London’s Madame Toussauds – Helen Mirren checking herself out at this week’s press conference. Classic!

RIP Roddy Piper

He ruled the squared circle as one of its greatest non-champions. He didn’t need a belt to prove his worth. We was the king of the interview and knew how to hit people over the head with a coconut. He taught me how to think on my feet and pour out words in great volume while captivating a room. He is the king of the soliloquy. Long live the king…you will be missed.

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