I’m brewing a single‑origin from the highlands with a subtle cardamom twist, then topping it with a latte that’s a 1:1:1 milk‑foam‑milk ratio. My beans keep shouting for a thick, silky crema, but the milk wants to stay airy—so it’s a constant back‑and‑forth, like a silent debate over flavor. The whole thing feels like a tiny confession: each cup revealing a mood, a memory, a little experiment in balance. How does your foam usually feel about its own weight?