L'Italo-Americano

THURSDAY, MARCH 5, 2026 www.italoamericano.org 22 L'Italo-Americano I f you had walked into a café near Teatro a l l a S c a l a i n t h e early nineteenth cen- tury, you would not have found anyone balanc- ing a porcelain cup in one h a n d w h i l e g l a n c i n g a t a watch; back then, coffee in Milan did not yet belong to haste, it meant staying and enjoying the moment. The square around the theater f u n c t i o n e d a l m o s t a s a n e x t e n s i o n o f t h e p e r f o r - mance itself: people arrived early, lingered afterward, u n f o l d e d n e w s p a p e r s , e x c h a n g e d i m p r e s s i o n s , n e g o t i a t e d b u s i n e s s , a n d a l l o w e d t h e a f t e r n o o n t o s t r e t c h w i t h o u t u r g e n c y . Musicians, merchants, jour- n a l i s t s , a n d s p e c t a t o r s shared the same rooms, and in that atmosphere a quick, concentrated drink would have felt oddly out of place. What suited those tables was something warm, sustaining, s l o w t o d i s a p p e a r ; t h a t something was the barba- jada. I t s n a m e i s t i e d t o Domenico Barbaja, who would later become a cele- brated opera impresario, but who began his career work- ing in one of the cafés near La Scala. At some point in the early 1800s, a mixture of coffee, chocolate, milk or cream, and sugar began cir- culating there, and it caught on, a bit for its extravagance, a b i t b e c a u s e i t f i t t h e rhythm of the place so per- f e c t l y . U n l i k e e s p r e s s o , which compresses flavor into some sort of urgency, the barbajada needed time to be prepared: the ingredients were whisked until light and frothy, poured into generous cups, and sometimes topped with whipped cream. It car- ried a kind of thick, almost v e l v e t y c o n s i s t e n c y t h a t p l a c e d i t s o m e w h e r e b e t w e e n a d r i n k a n d a dessert, much like today's Italian hot chocolate. And just like Italian hot choco- late, you would not finish a b a r b a j a d a i n t h r e e s i p s , you'd let it accompany con- versation or read the paper with you. The ingredients were sim- ple but balanced, with coffee bringing bitterness, choco- late body, milk softening the edges, and sugar rounding the whole drink. And then, of course, there was the whisk- ing, which created the foam that lifted the mixture just enough to keep it from feel- ing heavy. In winter, it would arrive steaming at your table, s o m e t i m e s , a s w e s a i d , c r o w n e d w i t h w h i p p e d cream. In warmer months, it could be cooled. But in every version, it assumed that the p e r s o n h o l d i n g t h e c u p would remain seated for a while. And that assumption tells us something about Milan a t t h e t i m e . D u r i n g t h e nineteenth century, the city was consolidating its role as a financial and publishing center, and cafés served as informal offices and meeting r o o m s a s m u c h a s s o c i a l spaces. A man might spend an hour reading, another dis- cussing contracts, and still not feel pressed to leave. A d r i n k l i k e t h e b a r b a j a d a made sense in that world, to which it fully belonged; an urban culture that developed around theater schedules, newspapers, and profession- a l n e t w o r k s , w h e r e t i m e could be stretched across a table. Curiously, a similar mix- ture of coffee, chocolate, and m i l k w a s t a k i n g s h a p e i n T u r i n , w h e r e i t b e c a m e k n o w n a s t h e b i c e r i n . There, however, the drink attached itself firmly to a specific place – the historic Caffè al Bicerin – and to a ritual presentation in a small glass with visible layers. Peo- ple went there precisely to d r i n k i t , s o m u c h s o t h a t location and beverage rein- forced one another. The bar- bajada, on the other hand, never anchored itself in quite that way. It was widely avail- able in Milan, prepared with slight variations from café to café, a part of people's every- day life rather than tied to a single institution and, for decades, that flexibility was a strength. But then, Milan changed. The early twentieth centu- ry brought industrial acceler- ation, tighter schedules, and technological innovation, thanks to which espresso machines began to spread, transforming coffee from something slowly prepared and consumed into some- thing quick, standardized, and efficient. Service sped up, customers stood, and the v i s i t t o t h e c a f é b e c a m e shorter. To use a musical metaphor, the city's tempo s h i f t e d , a n d w i t h i t , t h e n a t u r e o f w h a t p e o p l e o r d e r e d . T h e b a r b a j a d a , w h i c h r e q u i r e d h e a t i n g , m e l t i n g , w h i s k i n g , a n d , above all, time to be enjoyed, no longer met this emerging rhythm. Espresso, on the other hand, did. By the 1930s, the drink was already retreating from prominence; after the Sec- ond World War, it survived a l m o s t o n l y i n p e o p l e ' s memories. Mind, the ingre- dients themselves never fell o u t o f f a v o r , w h a t d i s a p - peared was the context that had sustained them in that specific form for a tad less t h a n a c e n t u r y . B e c a u s e Milan did not abandon café culture, rather, it condensed it: what had once been an hour became a few minutes, and a beverage designed to accompany lingering conver- sation lost its habitat. Turin, meanwhile, pre- served a slower model in cer- tain historic cafés, and the bicerin lasted – it's still very popular today – because it remained attached to a place people deliberately visited. Milan, more industrial and forward-looking, standard- ized a national coffee style instead. T h e b a r b a j a d a d i d n o t vanish because it lacked fla- vor, nor because it was for- gotten overnight; it disap- p e a r e d b e c a u s e M i l a n ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h t i m e changed. A drink that once belonged to theater evenings and unhurried afternoons found itself in a city increas- ingly defined by efficiency, and if that's not a change of p h i l o s o p h y , t h e n I d o n ' t know what is… What remains is not only a recipe, but also a small reminder that habits of taste are often habits of time, and that when a city changes its pace, some flavors inevitably fall silent with it. Let's make it! Barbajada (Serves 2) Ingredients 1 cup whole milk ½ cup strong brewed cof- fee or 2 shots espresso 2 ounces dark chocolate (60–70%), finely chopped 2 teaspoons sugar (adjust to taste) ¼ cup heavy cream, light- ly whipped (optional, for topping) Method Heat the milk In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, warm the milk until steaming but not boiling. Melt the chocolate A d d t h e c h o p p e d d a r k chocolate to the hot milk and stir continuously until fully melted and smooth. A d d t h e c o f f e e a n d sugar Stir in the strong coffee (or espresso) and the sugar. Taste and adjust sweetness if needed. Whisk for texture R e m o v e f r o m h e a t a n d whisk vigorously for 30-60 seconds. This step is essen- tial: it creates the light foam t h a t g i v e s b a r b a j a d a i t s characteristic texture. Serve P o u r i n t o t w o m e d i u m c u p s o r s m a l l b o w l s . T o p with lightly whipped cream if desired. Serve hot. FRANCESCA BEZZONE Barbajada, the historic Milanese drink made with coffee, chocolate, and hot milk, served warm and often topped with a light foam or whipped cream (Photo: Anna Efetova/Dreamstime.com) LA BUONA TAVOLA RECIPES COOKING TIPS SEASONAL DISHES A drink from old Milan: the rise and fall of the barbajada

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