Reflections on a Dirty

Miscellany · Speaking of Dreams

Please enjoy some abstract logical leaps.

Walking into a familiar coffee shop, I ordered a Dirty, something I don’t usually drink.

When the barista brought it over, she said, “Please drink it promptly.” This uncommon warning piqued my curiosity.

A Dirty That Isn’t Quite Dirty

Chilled milk at the bottom, hot espresso on top. Deep brown and snow-white, two colors standing their ground in the cup. Touching the vessel, I did not feel the expected temperature difference: the entire cup was cold to the touch; the fiery espresso had not yet penetrated the heart of the chilled milk.

In terms of preparation, chilled milk is poured first, followed by a gentle pour of freshly brewed espresso. The density of chilled milk is approximately 1.03 g/ml, while the density of hot espresso, due to the crema, is about 0.45 g/ml. This density disparity makes it impossible for them to mix.

Driven by external force—the tilted wall of the cup—the lower layer of chilled milk finds an outlet for release. Upon entry, the espresso and chilled milk complete their union in the mouth.

First comes the espresso—slightly scalding, carrying an intense flavor. Immediately after, the milk seeps in, neutralizing the temperature just right, softening the bitterness of the espresso.

It is here that I realized the intrigue of the Dirty.

It is an experience介于 an Americano and a Latte: the bitterness of an Americano is solitary, whereas a Latte has too much milk, rendering the intense bitterness of the espresso into a hot drink acceptable to anyone.

Compared to two distinctive, oppositional “parents,” the Dirty, as their “child,” perfectly inherits traits from both, using the oral cavity as a testing ground. It stratifies the fusion flavors of espresso and milk-coffee.

It is called Dirty because the gradual blending of milk and espresso leaves undeniable traces through the transparent glass wall. But it is also not Dirty, for the presentation of the two flavors is incredibly distinct.

Thus I saw a vision of LimbusCompany. Project Moon, please pay me my promotional fee.

The Dirty Bun

If there is such a thing as a Dirty for drinks, I suddenly thought of the Dirty Bun that was once all the rage. Streets and alleys, various social media platforms—almost every bakery bore its trace.

But the Dirty Bun is truly “dirty.” A chocolate croissant, drenched in Ganache (the original French meaning of Ganache is fool, hahaha, because it was born from an apprentice accidentally pouring hot cream into chocolate sauce), sprinkled with cocoa powder. One must use one’s hands to eat it. Black hands, black mouth. It seemed its selling point was to dirty every owner who tasted it.

At its peak in 2017, people queued for two or three hours; some spent two or three hundred yuan on scalpers for a 27-yuan bun, perhaps just for the experience of legitimately dirtying themselves.

Why?

Moving from barbarism to civilization, the nobility high above first taught the masses one thing: don’t get dirty.

The use of cutlery, the manner of chewing, stains on clothes—passed down through multiple civilizations. We are taught from childhood to inherit this basic form of discipline in civilized society until it becomes a conditioned reflex.

Norbert Elias said in The Civilizing Process:

“So-called civilization is the process of the continuous internalization of shame: eating with hands, ugly table manners, dirtying clothes slowly change from ‘normal’ to ‘shameful’.”

The Dirty Bun goes the other way: it turns shame into a selling point, briefly releasing what is suppressed.

Mikhail Bakhtin spoke of the carnival:

“In carnival, people indulge in eating and drinking, dirtying their bodies, mocking order; carnival is a safety valve for daily repression.”

The Dirty Bun is a miniature carnival occurring at the lips, gluttonous, disregarding image, tearing and biting.

Later on?

The heat lasted for over a year.

In 2023, Weibo trending topics started asking “Why is no one eating Dirty Buns anymore?”

Carnival is anticipated because of its abnormality and brevity. The safety valve does not need to be open all the time; I began to miss the moderation Aristotle taught us, just as never speaking of sex and always speaking of sex are both forms of repression.

The transgression exchanged for two hours of queuing will eventually be replaced by new spectacles amidst continuous exposure.

Looking back at the Dirty, it remains silently on the menu of every coffee shop. Restrained dirtiness, flowing on the surface. Ice and fire in one cup, bitterness and sweetness in one mouth, boundaries distinct yet continuously neutralizing.

It is a window left by civilization for the masses: the name transgresses, the body remains as usual, even additionally gifting the interest of taste.

Drinking the last sip. The wall of the cup seems to hold traces of the espresso. Perhaps the chilled milk is in there too, only become warm now; they have resolved their differences, embracing each other.

めでたし めでたし。