The Best Holiday Gift I Ever Received

Her radical nonjudgment pushed me to improve, and the campaign continued. Over the holidays last year, she upped the ante with a follow-up gift: a three-hour lesson in latte art. My first, inglorious thought? “Wow, I must really be a loser.”

But then I met Lena, the brewmaster general at a local café who arrived in our kitchen to gently tutor me through the process of grinding, tamping, steaming and a less aggressive pitcher-pouring wiggle. (“Easy does it,” she said. “It’s a like paint brush, not a firehose.”) 

Lena coached me to grind the beans to the texture of table salt, to press the coffee grounds to the density of a puck in the portafilter, and to steam the milk to exactly 150 degrees to achieve the perfect paintlike consistency for pouring. I found myself not only learning but — dare I say — transformed.

It turns out, a latte is not just a latte. After 25 years of marriage, I drank in the idea that Ruth’s gift was less about perfecting foam art — though, yes, my designs have improved, with some ongoing help from hours of free YouTube tutorials. (Especially my hearts, which somehow feels appropriate.) It was about something more essential: that sometimes the smallest challenges in life, the most trivial-seeming pursuits, are where we find the quiet spaces to stay curious, to keep pushing, to grow.

David Hochman serves up one of his creations.

Maggie Shannon

In the end, making lattes means more than whether the foam swan looks like a swan or whether the foam leaf looks more like an abstract painting. Some days I still get Snoopies when I’m trying to whip up roses. But Ruth’s thoughtful holiday gift is a reminder that persistence isn’t glamorous and that learning never truly ends, especially when you’re willing to embrace change in unexpected places.

On a brighter note, I’ve noticed a little less shade from my fancy latte-crafting nephew lately. I’ll occasionally send him photos of my crema creations, and he’ll respond with a “nice” or even a “wow.” For someone his age, that’s practically a standing ovation — and worth way more to me than six bucks.