Wherever We Go in the Southland, We’re Java Talking

I’m sipping a tall half-caf at my local Starbucks in San Juan Capistrano when my mind wanders from the story I’m editing to the people placing drink orders. “I just want a decaf double tall hazelnut nonfat with a shot of mocha latte,” says a 30-ish woman wearing designer warmups and a perfectly straight face. The Starbucks clerk takes the order matter-of-factly.

Next, a 40-ish man nattily dressed in pressed khakis, golf shirt and a neatly trimmed beard wants a venti caffe caramel latte macchiato with whip.

Is it my imagination or are people getting even more compulsive about their coffee orders? And just what do our caffeine cravings say about us anyway?

The next customer, a 60-something woman, brings my notion home. She’s squinting up at the coffee menu behind the counter, adjusting her glasses.

“Can I help you?” the clerk inquires.

“I just want a cup of the house blend of the day,” she says, obviously baffled by the extensive menu on the wall. “What would that be?”

“Sumatra.”

“OK,” the woman says gamely.

“Tall drip?” asks the clerk.

“I beg your pardon?” she asks, clearly puzzled that the coffee issue had not been settled.

“Tall,” the clerk says patiently pointing to the tall cup, which at Starbucks is the small, then says, “drip” and points to steaming coffee dispensers. I knew ordering a cup of joe had long gone beyond the mere decaf cappuccino, but when did it get elevated to an art form?

A call to Starbucks headquarters confirms my suspicion.

“California is known to be the capital of coffee customization,” said one Starbucks marketing executive who asked not to be named. “They’re definitely high-maintenance customers, but we like that,” she added.

Studio City Starbucks manager Tony Jensen believes the trend has to do with people’s need for a place where they can get exactly what they want. When he started working for the coffeehouse six years ago, most customers just ordered a grande caffe or a grande mocha.

“If someone ordered a grande nonfat latte, we thought, ‘Whoa, that’s pretentious.’ Today we don’t blink if someone orders a one-third decaf triple grande nonfat two Sweet’n Low no whip extra hot double-cup mocha.”

In 1991, when Starbucks first put its mug on a Santa Monica storefront, the coffee beans for today’s hyper-obsessed coffee consumer were planted and Southland java fever had begun. Today the chain perks along locally with 325 stores between Santa Barbara and San Diego. That means Southern Californians have plenty of opportunities to find perfection in a cup. And we’re taking the task--like everything else we do--to extremes.

*

I take my note pad back to the San Juan coffeehouse and begin tracking customers and their coffee orders. Then, fueled by caffeine and curiosity, I check out the Starbucks 50 miles north in downtown L.A., at the corner of 5th and Figueroa. Then I travel farther north to Sherman Oaks. Everywhere I go people are ordering complicated coffees with aplomb.

As I observed the java junkies, I tried to discover what our coffee-buying habits say about us. Was there indeed a coffee demographic? I sat back with my own caffeine concoction and people-watched. When business got slow, I talked to the clerks. Granted, this is not exactly scientific research. But here’s what I learned:

* A woman wearing small earrings and a long skirt will have a more straightforward order than a woman wearing long earrings and short skirt. This goes along with the finding that the more jewelry a person wears, the more complicated the drink.

* The older the person, the more basic the drink; the younger the person, the sweeter the drink.

* Shoes can give people away, said one Starbucks employee. High heels, a grande nonfat latte. Construction boots, a tall drip.

* In business districts people tend to order more straight drips.

* Occupation plays a role. Attorneys and writers prefer drip, said one manager. Writers, I was told, like to sit and sip their coffee for an hour.

“They don’t want a latte sitting around, all that milk going bad,” he said. Actresses want nonfat and no foam. They don’t like the mustache.

* If you see a flock of kids walk in, you can bet they’ll order Frappuccinos--sweet, ice-blended coffee drinks.

* Men and women are equally picky, but women are more likely to complain and get the drink the way they want it than men, who apparently would rather suffer in silence.

*

As far as what’s hot--or cool--at the coffee corner, lattes lead. It has everything many Californians want: milk (often nonfat or soy) for health, caffeine for buzz, foam for style. Health, buzz, style--L.A. in a nutshell . . . or coffee bean. In my sample analysis of 69 orders more or less evenly divided among the three stores, lattes stole 31% of the orders. Twenty-seven percent were drip, and 26% were iced or ice-blended coffee drinks. Altogether, espressos, cappuccinos and mochas accounted for only 7% of the orders, and 6% of orders fell into the “other” category, hot cocoa or iced tea.

But more interesting were the idiosyncrasies people revealed through their orders.

In San Juan Capistrano, while a stocky border patrol officer sat drinking a tall drip, black, a businessman with an imposing air--compromised by his open fly--put his personal Starbucks mug on the counter and demanded a tall nonfat extra foam latte. A 40ish woman with a tight blond flip ordered an iced grande 2% latte. Next, a teenage boy with slightly gel-spiked hair asked for a grande raspberry mocha Frappuccino.

*

Downtown, the suits were ordering in rapid-fire. One navy suit conducted serious business on his cell phone--complete with earpiece--as he sprinkled cocoa and nutmeg onto his tall half-Equal cappuccino. A businesswoman in a herringbone suit came in for her daily tall extra-hot latte. Moments later, a 20-ish man with a shaved head, a beret and a beard that looked as if he grew it on a Band-Aid then stuck it on his chin, wanted a grande soy latte.

“But, wait,” he said. “Is that soy in a box?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any in a bottle?”

“No, only cartons.”

“Then make it an iced tea.”

Talk about high maintenance.

Some customers are so hair-splitting, I’m told, that they ask for one Equal and one Sweet’n Low, or a one-third decaf triple grande latte. (Translation: three shots of espresso in a medium latte, but one of those shots is decaf.) Hey, whatever fills your cup.

At the Sherman Oaks Starbucks on Ventura Boulevard, the attire has changed from conservative suits to Hollywood hip, but the orders sound the same.

A man with dyed hair and an Italian suit wanted a half-caf venti in a double cup. A young woman in a tight white leotard, heavy makeup and a waft of cigarette smoke ordered a double venti caramel Frappuccino with whip.

“I just want a coffee,” said a poor chap, looking stymied. “What do you call it, a Starbucks grande?”

“Say it with me,” said the clerk good-naturedly, “grande drip.”

Some are at ease with the lingo, others stumble and a few have fun with it. I watched one guy crack a smile when the cute barista looked him in the eye and said, “Whip or no whip?” That would be cream, sweetheart.

But even I was swept away for a moment when a hunky dead ringer for James Dean swaggered up to the counter and in a low, sexy voice ordered a tall Americano. The barista coolly matched his demeanor and said smoothly, “Room?” I was on the edge of my seat, expecting him to hand her his motel key.

Instead, he just said, “No.” Meaning, of course, he didn’t want her to leave room for milk.