How not to drink coffee - Cafe Yumm, Eugene Oregon

On what is essentially an out of town shopping area, where blocks of buildings are centred around a large open space, commonly known as a car park, I was invited to join a friend for coffee at Cafe Yumm.

An organic cafe without the hippie chaos, but with the corporate sparkle. Scatter some photos on the new brick walls of South East Asia's boat markets; add some middle-of-the-road popular reggae from Bob, and pierce the acceptable chilled atmosphere with the famous peculiarity that is the overly friendly and enthusiastic all-American waitress, who I discover almost instantly hails from Ohio.

"WEYLL, HOW Y'ALL DOIN TADAAAAAAY..." she drawls with a smile pinned onto her face, looking down slightly, head tilted, in a mildly patronising stance.

OK, so I admit I'm not at my best in the morning, but this foghorn on happy gas drooling with admiration for our gorrrrrgeous accents, practically swallowing up the cash register with her smile, grated against my wishes for a relaxing Happy Planet juice and some hard core caffeine.

"SO WHERE YOU GUYS FRAAAM?"

"Nottingham", I replied with a wry smile, knowing (having experienced the US waitress before) that had I said Swindon, Dudley or Slough, the reply is a standard one... small talk rules:

(Wide eyed) "Ooooooo, WOW! THAT'S JUST GREAT. SO, HOW D'YOU LIKE EUGENE? ISN'T IT BEAUTIFUL? I COME FROM OHIO AND I JUS' MOVED HERE AND I JUS' LOVE IT HERE"... (wistful)... "ALL THE MOUNTAINS... AND TREES".

"Yeah, it's great", I reply knowing that if I say any more than this, she'll try to engage me in conversation. With this short sharp response, I know that ordering is just around the corner and I can remove myself from the counter, hide myself at a table outside and immerse myself in the delights of the ritual that is espresso and bagel (with cream cheese and avocado... mmm).

I'm right, she gives up and asks me what I want. I place my order, and disappear outside to a table.

It turns out after this ordeal that although espresso is becoming more commonplace in the land of the full fat latte with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, the notion of small and strong is dragging its heels somewhat, as my weenie short sharp shot arrives in a huge black mug?! meaning I have to drink it unable to lose myself in the smell, or even see the brown frothy scum that so delights me. I have to rush it down fast to sample the hit, and even then it's only relatively hot... so large is the surface area of my 2mm deep drink that it cools even further just making its way along the cool dark expanse of this ridiculous mug to my by now, disappointed mouth.

Lesson learnt... when in Cafe Yumm, drink Americano!