Bourbon Macinato Coffee

We picked this one up on a cheeky trip down to Puglia over Brexit Friday – with the misguided idea that we would get stuck down there in the sun and not have to hear any more of the tedious witterings of Mark Francois (it turns out there IS someone worse than Farage). However, it turned out that Brexit would be the continuing balls up it was always going to be – which luckily meant we could get back to Blighty to escape the unseasonable bollocking cold and pissing down rain. Now, when shopping in an Italian supermarket it’s a bit of a shock to see one whole aisle devoted to pasta, and another to coffee. So which one to go for was a bit of a lucky dip – avoiding all the big names we can get here at home, we ended up with this - just becuase it was a cheapy (about 2 euros). It’s the usual Euro brick that explodes when you jab in the knife – but to hell with it – we’re used to it. Italian coffee normally hits the spot for us just because there’s no mucking about – just make and glug. They don’t even bother with any marketing superlatives on the side of the packets – all their marketing people presumably spend their lives just hanging around on street corners astride vintage Vespas sporting enormous sunglasses. What more is there to say about this, after all, other than just “coffee”?  The trick with an Italian though is not to over do it. You get a lot of punch from a little coffee – and this one is no exception. Go easy with the spoon and you’ll get a strong as hell punch in the throat. Over do it and you’ll be coughing up al dente fettucine. Even at a weaker than normal dose we could still get a taste of charcoal. But we don’t want to put you off – it’s perfectly gluggable – just not for the feint hearted. Even if you don’t like it, you can instead shove the block as far up Francois’s arse as possible, forcing him to carry a small piece of Europe around with him, wherever he goes. That's worth 2 euros of anyone's money. (7/10)