My Short Career as a Barista in Uzbekistan

By Howard Axelrod, 31-time traveler from Ashland, MA

I have an addiction! I need my daily cappuccino. I am certainly not alone in this, as the ever expanding “coffee culture” surrounds us. I simply must have my morning “cap”! I’ve been like this for decades, so I suppose I am a “lifer.” I have my habit under control however, having only one cappuccino per day, but I absolutely must have it. I like it very “dry.” In barista-speak, that means all foam and no milk, and I am very particular about this not-so-small detail. Done correctly, it is my cup of tea (no pun intended).

I have owned many mid-priced home espresso machines over the years, and all suffered from one weakness or another when it came to producing a quality drink. You get what you pay for, so eight years ago, I decided to bite the bullet and ordered a very high-end “prosumer” level machine. I purchased a beautiful Rancilio Silvia and a matching Rancilio Rocky burr grinder.

The Silvia has a cantankerous personality and can be a bit difficult to learn, but after some trial and error and more than a few disasters, she has become well behaved and a very sweet lady. As with many skills, one improves with practice. These days, I can produce a cappuccino that is as good as those at Starbucks. The foam is my thing, and I can now create foam with the Silvia that you can walk on! My friends and guests are amazed, and I feature myself as a Home Barista Extraordinaire!

We traveled with O.A.T. on the amazing Stans of Central Asia: Turkmenistan & Uzbekistan adventure. Central Asia is a fascinating part of the globe and I loved it, with one exception. There is almost no coffee culture in these countries. “Black tea or green tea sir?” Both good drinks, but not what I need. The exception, however, is in the capital city of Tashkent, Uzbekistan, which is a modern city of over two million people. Coffee culture exists here, albeit in its infancy. Walking near our hotel one morning I thought I caught the scent of my favorite drink. It had been so long. Was it my imagination? Was I becoming delusional? I was on the scent like a bloodhound, and my wife and I found ourselves at the counter of Multi MaF’e Bakery and Café. This was a relatively new and beautiful establishment with excellent pastries and yes, they had a cappuccino machine! I was saved!

My Uzbek language skills are not particularly strong, and although I was able to indicate to the barista (who was wearing a red, white, and blue American flag headscarf) that I wanted a cappuccino, I was unable to communicate that I wanted it “dry” (no milk—all foam). The staff in the café were friendly and helpful, but still no luck. I suggested to the barista with hand signals that I demonstrate. Hey, I was only joking! To my surprise, I found myself behind the counter in front of their large commercial machine. It was a Rancilio, the same company that produces my Silvia! I figured it would be a breeze, and I could really show off my skills there.

Howie stepped behind the counter to demonstrate for his barista.

I washed my hands, rolled up my sleeves, grabbed the steaming pitcher, and filled it with cold milk. I glowed with confidence. Stand back and be amazed folks. I know my stuff. The staff crowded around waiting to see my artwork. I tilted the pitcher to the correct angle, placed the steam wand just beneath the milk’s surface, and slowly turned the steam knob, gradually increasing pressure—just like at home. All eyes were on me. I was in the “zone.” But wait. What’s going on? No foam? I refocused, knowing I could rectify this situation. Too much pressure. Yes, that must be it. Just like at home, but that was not the case.

Soon the unpleasant smell of sour milk filled the air. My artwork was now a pitcher of burnt milk. I was ruined! How embarrassing! My life was over! Instead of the perfect cappuccino, I had made a mess that mercifully was sent down the drain. All however was not lost, as the barista looked at me and said, “Bubbles? You want bubbles?” Yes! Yes! I call it foam; to him it is bubbles. We were now on the same page. The staff was respectful to me, even though I had clearly made a bozo of myself.

The waitress pulled a beautiful pastry out of the case and escorted us to the nicest table in the establishment. They were trying to sooth my bruised ego. The barista went to work, and the sound of steaming milk brought me out of my chair. He had the wand deep in the milk and the pressure on full. That is the exact opposite of what my Silvia at home requires. It almost instantly produced beautiful, feathery foam. As a former engineer, I soon cracked the code. The commercial machine has a bigger boiler and can produce the same result as my Silvia in a fraction of the time by placing the wand deep into the milk and using higher pressure. Everything of course, was obvious after the fact.

After leaving it to the experts, Howie enjoyed a cappuccino with perfectly steamed milk.

The barista signaled for us to relax and that he would bring the drink to the table. He spoke some English and asked us where we were from. I indicated Boston. He arrived a few minutes later with the goods, sporting his American flag headscarf, and with a big smile and pronounced, “It is the Boston Coffee Party!” We all shared a laugh.

Since coffee culture is new in Tashkent, there was only one other couple in the café, so I signaled for the staff to come and join us at our table. One young woman spoke excellent English and became the facilitator for our discussion. They asked all about us and our families, what we liked about their country, about Boston, about the U.S., and the like. We chatted for about 15 minutes and shared smiles and laughs, and I, of course, finally got my cappuccino fix. The barista took a white cup off the wall, handed us a marker and asked us to sign it so that it could be displayed in their coffee lover’s “Wall of Fame,” leaving the staff with a memory of us. Considering my performance as a barista, it should perhaps be displayed in their Wall of Shame! I wrote “Boston Coffee Party 10/27/17” on one side of the cup, and “Howie and Nancy” on the other. The entire staff laughed, and our barista friend placed it on the wall rack for display.

Despite his poor showing as barista, Howie’s mug now graces the café’s “Wall of Fame.”

We thanked everyone, paid our bill, and got ready to leave when the barista asked if I would take a photo of us with him and the staff, and e-mail it to him. I asked him to wait a few minutes as I could do even better than that. I sprinted back to the hotel room and returned with my Fuji Instax instant camera. When travelling to remote places on the globe, this is something I always carry. I am not sure if they had ever seen an instant camera before, but they were amazed and excited as photo after photo popped out of the camera and appeared on the paper within 60 seconds. We took about a dozen photos and presented them as gifts. They were ecstatic and gave us smiles and hugs in return. We had brought along several kitchen towels to be distributed as gifts on this trip. We gave our barista friend one with a cappuccino cup on it. It was the perfect gift, and he was ecstatic.

Although tipping is not common in Uzbekistan, we left a nice cash gift to be shared. The beautiful smiles made it clear that this was very much appreciated. We had received an experience that will live in our hearts and memories forever. This is far more valuable than money.

Howard Axelrod is an Ashland MA resident, travel photographer and writer, and former high technology executive. He and his wife have travelled with O.A.T. 31 times. He has photographed in 82 countries on six continents and has travelled to 38 of the U.S. states. He is primarily interested in native and tribal cultures, architecture, and wildlife, which he feels are all disappearing at an alarming rate. His goal is to document through photographs and writing as much of this as possible, while it still exists.

Make lasting connections with welcoming locals when you join O.A.T for The Stans of Central Asia: Turkmenistan & Uzbekistan.