The Doubleshot

As much as I hate Starbucks and all that they stand for, I keep finding reasons to go back (in addition to the obvious...sometimes they're the only show on the block).

The latest is the venti doubleshot. Five shots (yes, five) of espresso, some sweetener, and a little milk all over ice. Especially on a day like today, when I need all the help I can get to make pushing through the humidity even remotely worthwhile, this makes my previous summertime favorite (a caramel frappachino affogato) seem like sissy stuff. And it's a lot easier to ask for. (If I have to explain one more time what affogato means to a Starbucks' barista, when it's not my word but theirs, I may just scream.) And, oh yeah, did I mention the five shots of espresso?

Is it a caramel macchiato or a macchiato with caramel?

Another reason to hate Starbucks: They make it annoying to order macchiatos anywhere else.

A true macchiato is espresso with just a touch of foam. I happen to like it with a little caramel. No big deal: a caramel macchiato.

Unfortunately, at Starbucks, a caramel macchiato is nothing like that. Yeah, it has espresso and caramel, but it's ¾ milk. There’s nothing wrong with that if that’s what you want. And when I’m at Starbucks and that’s what I want, that’s what I order. (Although truth be told, I’ve never been able to quite figure out—not that I’ve stared at the ceiling nights worrying about it—what the difference is between a Starbuck’s macchiato and a latte.) But when I'm not at Starbucks, I don't want to be reminded of it.

I go to Starbucks reluctantly. I would much rather shop locally. With the exception of summertime, then it’s all about the caramel frappachinos. There’s a moral price to pay for the satisfaction--isn't that always the way. But that little moral dilemma is a story for another day.

I know of two places, one in Boston and one in New York, that not only make macchiatos, but that make them perfectly. (Berkeley Perk and NewsBar, in case you’re curious.) But when I order one, I have to ask for a macchiato with caramel (as opposed to a caramel macchiato) or risk being given the warning that this isn’t a Starbucks macchiato—just so I know. I know.

Starbucks Blues

Starbucks annoys me. Yes, I go there, probably more often than I should. Given a choice, I'd go to a locally owned cafe, but they're getting harder and harder to find. But while I may drink there, I don't play their silly name game.

It started out as an issue of privacy. Granted, on the face of it, giving a name at Starbucks is not a major breach of privacy. But when we casually give up private information (or consent to be taped everywhere) in the little ways, we become inured to it. It becomes no big deal. Then, when it matters, we just accept privacy violations without question. So, since there's no need to give a name at Starbucks (they will manage to get my drink to me), I don't.

Refusing to give a name at Starbucks has become an interesting social experiment. Most baristas don't notice or care. Some think it's funny. They'll put "X" or "anonomous" (that person couldn't spell). Some, though, are confused and even offended. When I say no, they repeat the question and don't know what to do. Or they argue with me about it. One almost cried (I did feel bad about that, but c'mon). Again, I point out, they don't need it. It's a false, corporate ploy to make it seem like a friendly local place. But it's not. It's a corporate chain that's everywhere.

Everywhere. This Starbucks is on Mackinac Island in northern Michigan. This island doesn't allow cars, so everyone rides bicycles or horses (the local taxi is a horsedrawn carriage). A quaint, nostalgic and beautiful place. Starbucks is even there.