Espresso X Madeleine Novels & Stories

The kitchen island itself had become something—not just a surface but a border, a place where they met in the morning before the day pulled them in different directions. Elijah had the coffee. He'd started making it differently six months ago—not the French press he'd used in Brooklyn, not the complicated espresso setup Alexander had had in the penthouse before, but something in between. A Chemex. The pour-over method took exactly four minutes and required attention but not anxiety. He'd learned it from a barista at the café near the culinary school, the one he went to on the mornings when he needed to be out of the apartment before the day had fully started, and he'd brought it home and pra

"I haven't tried that yet but I have to admit her croissants had the best texture and tasted otherworldly when paired the cup of coffee,” "I see she gave you a cup of macchiato because of how well the strong flavor balances out the flaky goodness. If you are opportuned in the nearest future please consider trying her; Pain au Chocolat, Pain aux Raisins, Croissant aux Amandes, Chausson aux Pommes, Kouign-Amann and Palmier. She makes the best viennoiserie ever!” she said and I couldn't help but smile at how passionately she spoke about the bread. Maybe she was related to the lady at the cafe. Who knew?

When the coffee was brewing and Elena was automatically going through her normal breakfast ritual, Marie walked in. "Oh my god, what kind of coffee are you making? You can't even see daylight through the carafe!" "You said you wanted race fuel, so there it is. Don't judge it before you have tried it." Elena continued heating the two skillets and got out her bacon and eggs. She peeled off a dozen slices and laid them out on the griddle before cracking six eggs into a small bowl. She put her bread into the toaster and then returned to the stove to flip the bacon. Marie watched her actions with amusement, and wondered if elena really thought she was going to eat that much this morning. Marie tu

Crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, they were irresistible. As if we hadn't eaten enough that we might pop, we also tried Madeleines, small shell-shaped cakes that were slightly crispy on the outside. They had a hint of lemon that made them refreshingly different from most of the desserts I've had, even though I wasn't really a lemon fan. To wash all this down, we got a bottle of Château Margaux, a red wine with a slightly acidic taste. Cecil, being the wine enthusiast she is, nearly finished the whole bottle herself.

“Good morning.” “Good morning.” He greets me normally, with a small smile. “Are you going to get coffee too?” “Yeah.” I say it, and then I start to remember something. “Wait, don’t you like green tea more than coffee?” “Wow. You remembered.” It surprises me when Xander displays a gleeful expression. He seems really happy at the moment. “Actually, I am going to order their matcha espresso. I saw it on their menu outside.” “They have one?”

He came over to my seat and gave me another hug. The door opened and Edward walked in. He had a basket filled with freshly baked goods. I could smell them. "Please tell me there's chocolate croissants in there..." Mason said as he made his way to the basket. "Well I don't know what's in there, I know that Pepper spent the whole night baking." He said and put the baked goodies on the table. "Coffee? " I offered him and he took it. "Thank you ..." He said and took a sip.

I get out of bed and walk into what is our open kitchen/living room, and I see Madeleine busy butting some food on the small dining table. “It smells amazing,” I tell her, and she looks at me. “I just thought I would make you some food.” She says and smiles at me. “Thank you, it smells amazing,” I say as I sit down and look at the food she put on the table. Madeleine made a big steak with baked potatoes and oven-baked carrots, mushrooms, and onions. It smells incredible, and as we eat, it tastes just as great as it smells. “I want to ask something,” Madeleine asks carefully, and I look at her and smile.

Then he closed the book carefully, sliding something between the pages, and stood. I turned my attention deliberately to the counter. “Tre caffè, per favore,” I told the barista. “Spanish latte, hazelnut latte, americano. And five croissants, please—due alle mandorle, tre al cioccolato.” My voice was steady, casual enough to sound practiced. Footsteps behind me. Steady. Unhurried. “Elisha.” My throat tightened, but I kept my gaze on the neat row of glazed pastries, their shells shining under the glass. “You’ve confused me with someone else.”

The large fridge is filled with all manner of goodies; individual lemon meringue tarts sit beside chocolate brownies and treacle tarts and much more. Emma, our new barista, has proved to be a dab hand at our coffee machine, and we are all slightly jittery at the amount of caffeine we have consumed as a result of her ‘practising’. Bea and Andreas have penned descriptions for every single confection, which has resulted in much laughter from all of us as they bickered about how to phrase certain things.

What the heck is Eleanor Roosevelt doing here? "A cup of Espresso laced with milk. What would you like to get?" A girl asked and I smiled before my eyes washed over the menu. "She'll have an espresso as well. With milk and maybe a little bit of Sugar? Not too much, just one teaspoon is enough." "Alright. Will be right back." "Espresso?" I asked and he nodded his head before his eyes studied my face. "Don't tell me you don't know Espresso?" "I–" "Hey, Marie?" He hollered suddenly and all eyes turned to us. Including my sister's.