Instaweekend (aka how to be a lazy blogger).
We took Gena and her fella D. to one of my favorite places on earth: the North Fork. We stayed in the delightful Ink Hotel, hit up all our favorites (Shinn winery, Aldo’s for the world’s best iced mochas, the North Fork Table and Inn’s lunch truck), and ventured across the sound to Montauk (my first time!). Gena had her very first lobster roll at an Amaganset institution, The Lobster Roll/Lunch, (and life will never be the same again), we stopped by Zum Schneider MTK to sample the cocktail menu that M. created (get the Sturm und Drang, a Dark & Stormy riff), and had an excellent dinner at a new Greenport restaurant, the North Fork Oyster Company.
And a very merry time was had by all.
On Sundays, Aldo roasts.
Aldo’s iced mocha makes me wanna sing Tina Turner: simply the best!
Over the past few years of Aldo adoration, I’ve yet to mention his scones. They’re nearly as legendary as his house-roasted espresso. So crisp with good butter they taste almost fried.
(The mark of great food is a photograph of very little of it left. That means I forgot to snap, I was too busy shoveling.)
Omgeeeeeeee… Iced “moka” from Aldo’s in Greenport.
When we woke up Sunday morning on the North Fork our first order of business was Aldo’s in Greenport for his insanely good iced mochas. The weekend queue is loooong but well worth it: he makes each drink by hand and with care.
We always order a machiatto (espresso “marked” with a dash of milk) to sip while we wait for the mochas. He asks you to taste it first before he adds “the cheese,” which he grinds fresh for every drink (as seen above).
He misheard us this time, and made us hot mochas instead of iced. When I asked if he could pour them over ice he said no — “It can’t be done. These must be served hot. I would have made them stronger if they were to be iced. But they are better this way.”
At the Starbucks across the street (where the wait is 70% shorter) they would have dumped the mochas and started over (or just poured them over ice). What do they care?
But Aldo is an artist. I would not ask Picasso to draw that dove again because I specifically wanted him to be holding two olive sprigs, and I would not refuse mochas that Aldo labored over simply because I wanted them iced.
And they were better. Extraordinary! (Though I still adore them iced.)
In Italy, of course, you’d never get an iced (proper) mocha — but that’s part of Aldo’s artistry. He has adapted to the demands of his adopted hometown. He has developed a technique to make iced mochas worthy of his espresso. He even makes iced brewed coffee that look quite delicious (though why you’d go to Aldo’s for brewed coffee is beyond me).
And a tip! I’m sure he has many secrets but there is one thing that we can all do to make our iced drinks better: shake! He shakes them vigorously for a full 30 seconds, which froths the drink in a most appealing manner. After you’ve added your milk, put your thumb over the straw-hole and shake it like a Polaroid picture. It won’t be Aldo’s, but it will be better.
If you’re ever on the North Fork, DO experience Aldo’s, hot or iced, and DO order machiattos as a sort of espresso appetizer: 105 Front Street, Greenport.
Mud mochas are kinda epic. Not nearly as delicious as Aldo’s on the North Fork but then, he’s an artist.
This is my heaven.
There’s a coffee shop called Aldo’s in Greenport that serves what is arguably the best espresso this side of the Atlantic. Aldo himself, a Sicilian-born Frenchman with wild, curly white hair, coaxes it from his beautiful machine. He takes his time with each drink (which cost about $0.50 less than the dribble at Starbucks across the street), pausing frequently to chat with customers, and the line on Saturday morning was long. It was fascinating to watch him at work.
While we waited for our iced mochas (perhaps an abomination to espresso purists but one that Aldo pulls off beautifully), he made us cafe machiattos with perfect crema, a drop of milk, and a dollop of steamed milk froth. He had me taste it first before adding “the cheese” — chocolate shavings that he shaved right there, a la minute, with a turn-handle tool. (“You taste the pasta first before adding the Parmigiano, yes?” he explained.)
The iced mochas were wonderfully frothy because he shook them vigorously with ice for about a half-minute. And then he topped them off with fresh-shaved chocolate and recommended we drink them without straws, for obvious reasons. I just about died.
