Among the Portuguese, there is an almost generalized consensus, albeit held in a veiled way, that the quality of the co ee consumed within the national territory is a hallmark of our collective identity. When one speaks of homesickness, co ee is, of course, one of the things that is often evoked. But this is rarely verbalized clearly, given the plethora of icons we can invoke in a ection of the homeland, beginning with the singular beauty of our language and a list of so many other things that are dear to us: from the sun to the custard tart, from the art of Fado to the beauty of our beaches, cities and towns, our wine and cuisine, the natural exuberance of the Azores and Madeira, the light in Lisbon and the number 28 tram ride, without even mentioning the excellent footballing qualities of Cristiano Ronaldo. However, we are less aware of our admiration for particular places which, while perhaps lacking anything truly exceptional, are where the daily life that de nes us is drawn and matures. And without occupying the central place of other times, the café establishment continues to play a hugely symbolic role in the national imagination, even if unrecognised. The lack of recognition of such places is therefore paradoxical. “Having a co ee” continues to be one of the most distinctive habits of the Portuguese character. An expression that has long been internalised in our imaginary and, as we well know, entails much more than just an occasion to enjoy a hot beverage. The phrase has come to signify a commitment to a conversation, to occur in the more or less immediate future, in a place where the sense of communal space puts us in a relationship of equality with our interlocutor. Not in my house, or in yours, but in the café. There, in the establishment with the same name as the beverage, a meeting is understood to
