Affogato means “drowned” in Italian and, by no coincidence, an affogato is an ice-cream drowned in coffee. A dessert (or drink, depending on your appetite), it usually involves one scoop of vanilla ice-cream and one shot of espresso. Technically speaking, the ice-cream is burned by the espresso, but “scotta” is a little harder to pronounce. Either way, the ice-cream dies a quick but painful death. Bitter irony, then, that the affogato is one of multiple casualties of the so-called Great Vanilla Shortage currently sweeping the nation.
It’s no laughing matter – fuelled by a rise in global demand and a squeeze on Madagascan production, vanilla is no longer affordable. Pods can now cost up to £515 a kilo, making them more expensive than silver. The crisis is in its early stages – there’s still vanilla ice-cream in shops – but, by God, go now. The bigger ice-cream companies, such as Jude’s, have absorbed the cost. But many artisanal gelaterias have already scratched vanilla off their chalkboards.
This is excellent news for the custardo, a confectionary confection that swaps ice-cream for custard. Custardo was supposedly created by a cafe in London’s coffee belt, Peckham, called Forza Win (where they use creme anglaise) and the result is not dissimilar to Vietnamese hot egg coffee, which mixes egg yolks with sugar, condensed milk and coffee. It is also, arguably, from the same wheelhouse as bicerin, Turin’s highly prized morning drink, which mixes espresso with chocolate and whole milk, a potent combination that stimulates bodily fear and calorific anguish among churchgoers who drink it after mass.
Michele Vollaro, general manager at London’s Cafe Murano St James, has heard of it but not tried it. “In Naples, we only drink very traditional coffee,” he says. “I’m a big fan of something like an espresso martini in the evening, but for a pick-me-up in the morning it has to be straight down the line – either an espresso or a cappuccino.” Custardo is a stupid word, and may not take off in Italy, but it is pretty easy to make.
Technically (again), custard is usually made with vanilla but – and here’s the key – it’s not a must. When I made custardo, there was nothing decent left in the shop, so I used cheap own-brand custard, which tasted as though it had once been in the vicinity of vanilla, but not made actual contact. Rather than drowning, the custard sort of belly flops into the coffee with a special sort of gracelessness. But I had it for breakfast, and it works. What should have been egregious as a pairing was, in fact, as rich and thick as Theresa May’s cabinet, the custard cutting through the espresso’s bitterness. I’m sure the real stuff – proper vanilla custard and coffee – is better. But if the vanilla shortage continues, we may have to opt for second best.
