Paula Hardy

Wander the back streets of Murano and you can hear the roar of furnaces behind blind factory walls. The air trembles and there’s a perpetual orange glow in the high clerestory windows that remain just out of reach. It is …

Click, click, tamp, swoosh! Click, click, tamp, swoosh! Clouds of steam plume above the shining, eight-spout Gaggia and a thick stream of unctuous, dark coffee trickles into tiny espresso cups, some topped with a velvety cloak of frothed milk, before …