like a military drill instructor (which he may very well have been, given the Marine Corps’ eagle and fouled anchor was tattooed on his meaty forearm).
“Let’s move on to the coffee itself. A good espresso starts with a good bean, so—”
“You mean espresso bean, right, ma’am?” said Ronny Shaw. “I’ve seen them in the grocery store. Is that what we should use?”
“There’s no such thing as an espresso bean,” I explained. “What you saw was an espresso roast. Any type of good Arabica bean that’s roasted dark can be called an espresso roast.”
“What about caffeine, Ms. Cosi?” Bigs said. I noticed he got up to stand beside his chair like a kid in Catholic school called on by his teacher. “Will I get a bigger jolt from espresso than, say, a regular cup of joe?”
“What’s the matter, Brewer? Worried you won’t be up for that hot date after your mutual?” Dino Elfante asked.
Bigsie’s smile was lopsided. “It’s just that I need a lot of energy. Pep, you know. My lady friends expect it. I got a reputation to uphold.”
Bigsby Brewer seemed so guileless it was difficult to see him as a cold-blooded fire bomber. But I had to consider that one of his many “lady friends” could be Lucia Testa. Sweet as he was, Bigs would be an easy mark to manipulate, especially if someone convinced him the fire would end up helping Enzo instead of hurting him.
Alberto Ortiz spoke up just then—I recognized him as Mr. “Puerto Rican Pride” in the Lucia photo.
“If you need pep, Big Boy, try a Red Bull. Or maybe that little blue pill if the situation is code red. But, dude, if you’re having real trouble with one of those Manhattan fillies, just send her over to me—”
A silver cross hung from Ortiz’s neck, and a thin gold band circled his ring finger, but outward symbols aside, Ortiz seemed as randy as the rest of this pack.
“Mr. Ortiz is right,” I cut in. “About gulping espressos, I mean. It’s not a very efficient way to perk up.”
Bigs frowned. “But I thought espressos had caffeine.”
“Of course there’s caffeine in an espresso. But espresso’s high-pressure, high-heat extraction process removes more caffeine than regular drip brewing.”
“In other words,” James said, “if you want a jolt, stick to drip, drip.”
Bigs poked his friends so hard James tumbled from his folding chair. “Ahhhh!”
“Snots don’t know how to behave,” muttered Ed Schott.
When things settled down again, I demonstrated the best way to grind the beans for espresso. “If you grind too finely, friction and oxidation from the grinder will ruin your dream of a perfect cup. Grind too coarsely and some of the flavor stays in the portafilter.”
I ground enough beans for a few shots and dosed a single into the basket. Then I showed them how to even out the grinds before tamping.
“Grip the portafilter handle with one hand. Using the other, gently sweep the excess grinds away with the edge of your finger. By moving forward, then back, you’re evenly distributing the grinds in the basket while you level them. Now it’s time to pack.”
I rummaged through my bag and produced the brand-new scale from my duplex closet. (Unfortunately, it was pastel blue with pink sea horses—Joy had picked it out a few years ago, and I’d never taken it out of its plastic until now.)
“We don’t have to weigh in to make coffee, do we?” Bigs asked.
“I’m not gettin’ on that girly scale,” Dino said, pointing at the pink seahorses. “It’ll make me look fat.”
The man laughed.
“What we’re going to measure is the amount of pressure applied as we pack coffee into a portafilter. This is the most important step in the espresso pulling process, and the one you’re all going to have the most difficulty mastering—”
“Why is that?” asked James.
“The grinds in this filter basket have to be perfectly packed and level when the hot pressurized water streams from the spout, or you’re facing disaster.”
“Because?”
“Because like all things under pressure, water can turn insidious . . .”
I heard someone shifting uneasily in his chair at that. I looked up to see who, but all the men appeared settled again, gazes expectant.
I cleared my throat. “It’s the barista’s job to create an even, consistent resistance to that streaming force. If there’s even one tiny crack or irregularity in your pack, the pressurized water will find that weakness and exploit it, gush right through, missing the rest of the grinds and completely ruining any chance you had at