How hard is it to make a cup of coffee!

Well I thought I would try out the new coffee place Amy told me about before she left, "Madeleine's". Sounded cute, nice decor and ever since Amy left I was looking for some cheesecake as a source of "false comfort". So after clinic, I caught the tram, got off at Mametova and walked up Ablaihan, past the known pastures of "Gloria Jeans" where you know exactly what each beverage will taste like and it will mainly resemble what you get in the Aussie version even in the foyer of Hillsongs or at a YWAM conference.

The outside was very similar to the tented cafe's up and down the hill on either side. In fact I was almost tempted to divert to the empty striped couches of "Zig Zag" or the slightly more attractive "Bon Bons" up the hill, but I kept to my goal and turned left into the non-smoking section. The cutely dressed french maids behind the counter selling pastries had taken up the space that should have been window seats so in order to get a window I decided to brave the smoking section. Over the next hour a Russian girl hoed into an entire packet of cigarettes. Still an amazement to me, who in my "wild days" was known to manage 2 cigarettes in a night if I was going well, before collapsing in spasms of coughing. Charming habit.

What looked safe? What looked good? I was hungry and thirsty from my walk up hill and the long tram ride. I had been entertained by a very thin Kazakh man with haunted eyes and a white crocheted muslim prayer cap, who spoke Russian and told me that the Irish and Kazakhs (who were descended from Altai Saks) actually shared ancestors and kissed my hand when I got off the tram. So back to the menu.

Kapuchino or Kapuchino Fredo (cappucino with ice) or Kapuchino Fredo Panno (same with cream on top) and a cheese cake. The waitress approached and I ordered the cold cappucino without cream and then asked if i could have the NY cheese cake without the strawberry topping. I was assured that this was impossible as she shook her head emphatically. It was a package and strawberry topping was an integral part of the whole. So I gave in. Could I have summoned the manager and found out if this was true or was this a ready made strawberry topping. Oh well, I would soon find out.

The Kapucino arrived with a very apartheid appearance. That creamy frothy top was having nothing to do with that brown icy bottom half. OK - It's not Gloria Jeans but thats what makes life fun isn't it. It is the right of every coffee shop owner to define his own version of an iced cappucino. That is what democracy is all about. In the Soviet Union , all stolovaya's (cafeteria's) served up a basic variety of meals and beverages which were almost as guaranteedly uniform as MacDonald's.

The Cheesecake. It was warm, the biscuit crust was soggy having been drowned in plate swimming with runny sweet strawberry sauce. This sauce did not have its origins firmly connected to this cheesecake. It had been poured on with luxuriant excess by someone behind the counter. Perhaps the cheesecake had been frozen, then nuked and so the warm cheese and crust soaked in the abundant syrup with alacrity (my dad loved that word - as well as the word recognoitre).

I was hungry and thirsty - I ate , I read Lemony Snickets #4 in Russian and departed to by tickets for "King Lear" at the Lermontov - last play of the season. (yes in Russian)

The next day I had a coffee date with Suzy and we had planned to eat at - you guessed it- Madeleines. She had been there before and knew what to order. I had been there before and knew what not to order. So it had to work....

I steered Suzy clear of Kapucino Fredo but she pressed on, unperturbed. I branched out and asked what a "Glace" was. It turned out to be what we in Oz, NZ, Scotland and probably in other outposts of the "Empire" is usually known as a iced coffee. Not in America though. In Australia, it is milky coffee with a large dollop (can't you just hear that word!) in the bottom of a tall glass covered with lashings of whipped creme. It's usually served in one of those oldie worldie glasses from a milkbar with a long spoon so you can stir in your icecream or eat it. But in America, it's cold coffee with ice in it! So unimaginative.

So iced coffee sounded perfect and then I lashed out on an unpredictable and a predictable - a chicken croissant and a hachipurin . A ha-hachiii what? It's a baked hot bread filled with this local white cheese called Brinza and its Georgian and delightful if done right. But see, locals make it and eat it so they know what it is supposed to look like and taste like.

The problem is not that local chefs are bad or lazy or stupid - they just don't know what on earth these strange foods and drinks on the menu are supposed to look or taste like. The first pizza's in Almaty were small breads with a well in the middle containing a small dollop of dryish cheese, mushroom sauce and a some runny oil swimming over the surface. Not even a whiff of a tomato in sight. My house keeper once got quiche and pizza mixed up and put tomato paste across the bottom of the quiche shell before pouring in the egg custard mix!

The glace and croissant arrive together. Grace is said, the croissant is fine. Not exceptional but a perfectly adequate croissant. The glace looks good. I can see the icecream in the bottom .. but what are those crimson dots? Raspberry seeds. There is a fruit icecream ball in my iced coffee. Ok I should at least try it. First sips are ok but then I get the fruit ice cream thing happening and then to top it off, something vaguely resembling a piece of cake rides up the straw. Foreign bodies are in my coffee and its all too much, the "restaurant complaining Dad inside me" rises to the surface and I walk over to the bar. The barman looks at me, scowling slightly. My waitress looks at me politely.

In Russian - this is an iced coffee. Iced coffees do not have fruit icecream in them. Just vanilla icecream.

But it is has vanilla syrup ( I had managed to convince them not to add caramel syrup)?

No, no it needs vanilla icecream!

Ok Madam, we will make you a new one. It came back to my table - ok - more than passable.

How is hard is it to make a cup of coffee!

By the way, Suzy's kappucino Fredo arrived looking and tasting exactly like I had hoped my one would the day before. No separatist movements between brown and white. All nicely blended with a touch of sweetness.

Just in case you have decided that if you should ever visit Almaty you will only drink your coffee beverages at Gloria Jeans then beware. I love a mint chocolate bomb. After dinner mints, After 8 mints, cadbury's peppermint creams, peppermint aeros - all forms of chocolate with mint are my special sweet downfall. That's why I am skinnier over here. No chocolate mint temptations.

But what of the mint chocolate bomb iced beverage at Gloria Jean's. On my first visit last year Esther ordered one and choked.

"It taste's like cough mixture"

"Nonsense. Give me that" I sip and choke - cough medicine.

I politely approach the counter - this is after all a small Australian outpost in this mainly American, European and Turkish mall.

I smile. " What do you flavour the mint chocolate bombs with?"

"Mint lollies(candies) "

"Can you show me?"

Mint cough lollies - it was cough medicine but the solid form. (Halls to be precise)

" You don't use syrup?" Obviously not. " Can we have a different drink - this is the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted and it doesn't taste like a mint chocolate bomb in Australia and this is an Australian chain and I won't ever bother you again about this - but just this once could we get a different drink."

They did. Actually , Gloria Jeans in Almaty is owned by a Turkish guy. He is very nice and just donated 20% of his takings the night of a charity concert several weeks ago, to support a local special needs orphanage that some of Amy's school friends visit.

It's not hard to make a coffee. It just require's a sense of pioneering and adventure to order one -knowing that it the name may shed no light on the possible taste sensation heading your way.

Let the buyer beware!