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Coffee whispering

coffee and cassette tape in Batch and Co
What does listening to your coffee tell you? Would a long black sound different to an Americano?

How does your coffee sound? Does an espresso sound different to a latte? Could you deduce how the milk had been frothed, or what milk had been used, by listening to your coffee before you drank it?

To see why there may be an effect, it’s worth thinking about your coffee for a moment. The tiny bubbles in the crema of an espresso are different from the larger bubbles of a milk froth made of semi-skimmed milk in a cappuccino. Bubbles of non-dairy milks may be different too, particularly if the initial small bubbles have combined to form larger bubbles as the froth ages. Indeed, sound is used as a characteristic of coffee: think about the sounds made by a steaming wand in milk. Somehow the environment of a café would not be the same without the constant hiss and whistle of a cappuccino being made. But can we use it to experience our coffee more fully? Not just the aroma, taste, sight and feel but also, can we start to listen to our coffee?

Take the example of the sound of a dripping tap: each drop of water falling into a bowl of water left under the tap ready for washing up later. Each “plink” is telling you something about the size of the drop coming from the tap. Intuitively, or perhaps from experience, we know that small drops produce a higher pitch, a higher frequency, than large drops: small drops ‘plink’, large drops ‘plonk’. But there is something wrong with this example, because, despite what we may think, we are not hearing the drops at all, only a consequence of the drops.

Drops on a coffee can reveal a lot, but this time we’re interested in the sound that they make.

As the drop falls, it creates a hole in the surface of the water, a dent that grows and then closes in on itself, so that the drop of water has formed a bubble of air under the water surface. As this bubble is unstable, it pulsates under the water just before it collapses and it is this pulsation that we hear. As the frequency of the pulsation will depend on the radius of the bubble, air cavities of different sizes will produce different sounds. And because a larger drop will generally produce a larger hole under the water, the larger drop will generate deeper sounds: plonks rather thank plinks.

How does this relate to the sounds made by your coffee? Well, it turns out that the sound of a bubble bursting reveals a lot about the surface tension and the size of the bubble. A recent study published in Physical Review Letters measured the sounds made by bursting soap bubbles through 24 microphones placed around each bubble. Analysing the sounds, the group found that not only could they ‘hear’ how the air escaped the bubble, by analysing the sounds recorded in the microphones they could determine, quantitatively, the movement and forces of the bubble ‘skin’ as it retreated back and the bubble burst. They suggested that listening to bubbles and liquid surfaces could be a complementary tool to high speed photography for understanding the forces on a liquid. This may prove useful for example when thinking about how a pond skater moves on the surface of the water.

To think about what this may mean for coffee, take the Aeropresses I’ve been making recently. First, I wet the grounds and allow a first stage of de-gassing to start. The sound here is of an almost continuous hiss, not entirely dissimilar to the sound you hear when you put an empty seashell to your ear.

latte art, hot chocolate art, soya art
Could we detect a difference between a semi-skimmed milk latte and an oat milk hot chocolate by the sound that they make? Some people listen to their bread in order to know when it is cooked. What does listening to coffee reveal?

At this point it was hard to know whether what I was hearing were the grinds or the ‘sound’ of the Aeropress ‘shell’. Topping up the chamber with water, the bubbles on the surface of the coffee became larger, and of a different form. And they sounded different too! A few pops, and a hiss.

Did I learn anything (apart from that putting one’s ear to the top of an Aeropress does get quite hot and a steamed ear is a strange experience)? I learned that there was much more to my coffee than I had appreciated, that there is always more to discover. It was almost as the author of the 1933 paper about determining the size of bubbles in water by the sound said:

“As a matter of fact we know very little about the murmur of the brook, the roar of the cataract, or the humming of the sea.”

What will you hear in your coffee? Do let me know, in the comments below, on Twitter or over on Facebook.

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A key ingredient at Second Shot

Coffee, hot chocolate and cake at Second Shot in Marylebone,
Second Shot
Coffee, hot chocolate and cake at Second Shot in Marylebone

First impressions count, and the first impression we got of Second Shot‘s second branch north of Marylebone Station, was of a very friendly, local spot type of cafe. A small crowd were sitting around a table discussing a topic in an animated way. Various others were popping in or out, chatting with the barista, one person was sitting at a table with a laptop. And despite the fact that the weather was turning and the sky was becoming an ominous grey, the cafe itself seemed bright and open, with plenty of light coloured wood to complement the large windows.

We decided on a long black, hot chocolate and nut free brownie. Not wanting to spoil the initial taste of the coffee, I waited for the long black to arrive so that I could try that first before trying a bit of the brownie. The coffee was very well made, from Square Mile, and a perfect complement to the squidgy but moreish brownie.

On the walls, plants were hanging in pots with their leaves trailing down, while the light was reflected off a series of drawings sketched using coffee as an ink (they were for sale). It is surprisingly easy to make ink out of many different household (and not quite so household) items. Coffee is one base ingredient and, not surprisingly, makes a brown ink. But to bind the ink and to make it more viscous, gum arabic is frequently added to home-made ink recipes. The gum arabic is needed particularly if you are going to write with the ink with a fountain pen as it makes the ink viscous enough that it can flow through the nib.

coffee art, pictures using coffee ink, sketch, Second Shot
Hanging plants and coffee art, the walls at Second Shot, Marylebone.

Just as with the gum arabic, often ingredients are added to a product that are crucial to it, but that we do not realise they are there. Another example is the seaweed extract that is added to some plant based milks in order that they produce a better milk froth. But what if you don’t add all the ingredients at the same time, what happens if you add only one ingredient of the ink rather than all of those that are necessary?

One type of black ink that has been used for centuries is made from oak galls. It is even thought that ink based on galls was used to write the 4th century Codex Sinaiticus (the oldest complete copy of the Christian New Testament that we know of). The galls form on oak trees when the larvae of different types of wasp secrete a chemical that produces abnormal growth in the tree. The gall is the protective casing around the wasp larva, a type of home for the wasp larvae as they mature. Once the wasp has matured, it burrows through the growth which has turned from green to brown and it leaves a tiny little hole where it exited the gall. Galls can be seen on many oak trees during the summer and autumn and I’ve even seen them on the oak trees of various central London parks.

After the galls have been crushed and soaked, iron sulphate is added to the gall solution to produce a deep black ink*. Again, gum arabic is added to bind the ink to the paper and to increase its viscosity. But it is this ink that was also a popular ‘invisible ink’ first described over 2000 years ago. Philo of Byzantium** (who lived from 280-220 BCE) describes making an ink with the oak galls only. Forget about the iron sulphate for the moment. When it dries, the ink is nearly invisible on the paper, it can easily be missed and so can be sent to a collaborator as an invisible message. When the collaborator washes the paper with a solution of iron sulphate, the black ink appears on the paper and the message is revealed. Although the recipe has been known for two millennia, it has been used as an invisible ink even as recently as Mary, Queen of Scots and the American Revolution**.

coffe ink example
Coffee ink made for writing with a fountain pen (including recipe). Perhaps a yellow-ish paper was not the best medium to use to showcase the ink. An inadvertently (almost) invisible ink.

This idea, of making the invisible visible, by adding a key ingredient seems to form a nice metaphor for the societal aspect of the work of Second Shot. On their website they describe this aspect as:

We’re changing perceptions on homelessness by being a destination that serves some of London’s best coffee, alongside a unique community atmosphere, amazing food, and just so happens to be changing lives.

We employ people who have been affected by homelessness, train them up and transition them on to long term employment elsewhere, helping them on their individual journey taking them from where they are, to where they deserve to be.

Key ingredients of training, and accompaniment on individual journeys that combine to change our perceptions but that are not realised by us as we consume great coffee at this friendly cafe: Making the invisible visible, but doing it without us even realising that we have received a hidden message.

Second Shot’s second branch is at 49 Church St. NW8 8ES

*”Make Ink: A forager’s guide to natural ink making”, J Logan, Abrams New York, 2018

** “Prisoners, Lovers, & Spies: The story of Invisible Ink from Herodotus to al-Qaeda”, K Macrakis, Yale University Press, 2014