Indians have never really understood coffee, but that’s changing
Indians have never really understood coffee, but that’s changing, one cup at a time, writes Vir Sanghvi.
We were in a small village in a scenic – if touristy – part of Italy called Cinque Terre. There were no grand hotels but an enterprising inn-keeper had converted an old monastery into a bed-and-breakfast. Each morning we would go down to the kitchen, where, on a large wooden table, would be laid out a delicious breakfast – bread, salami, torta della nonna and other Italian cakes – along with a jug of juice.