Your Cappuccino Is Named After a Monk’s Robe
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Your Cappuccino Is Named After a Monk’s Robe

By Libion McLear

You order one without thinking about it. It is named after a religious order — and so, for exactly the same reason, is a South American monkey. But not for the reason almost everyone gives.

A painting of the crowded interior of a Viennese coffee house in the 1890s, with waiters and seated customers reading newspapers.
A Viennese coffee house, painted in 1896. Menus like this one had been offering a Kapuziner for a century — coffee tinted with cream to the exact brown of a friar’s habit. It is where the word comes from, but not the drink.

You order one without thinking about it. Espresso, hot milk, a cap of foam, in a small cup, before about eleven in the morning. It is one of the most Italian things there is.

It is named after a religious order — and it did not start in Italy.

First, the Friars Were Named After a Hood

An 18th-century painting of a bearded friar in a brown habit sitting with a kneeling man.
A Capuchin friar at work, painted in 1767. That brown is the whole reason your coffee has its name. Painting Docteur Ralph / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 3.0.

In 1525 a group of Franciscans decided their order had gone soft. They wanted to live the way Francis of Assisi actually had, and that included wearing the habit they believed he had worn: plain, rough, and with a long pointed hood.

The Italian for hood is cappuccio. People looked at these men walking around under their conspicuous pointed cowls and called them cappuccini, the hooded ones. The nickname stuck so hard it became the official name — they are the Order of Friars Minor Capuchin to this day. So the order is named after the hood. Hold on to that, because the drink is not.

Vienna Named a Colour

A Capuchin habit is a particular brown: not black, not tan, but a warm reddish shade anyone in a Catholic country could pick out at fifty paces, because friars were everywhere.

By the late 1700s, coffee houses across the Habsburg empire were listing a Kapuziner — black coffee with a few drops of cream stirred in, just enough to hit that exact colour. The same menus offered a Franziskaner: more cream, lighter brown, for the Franciscans’ paler habits. Vienna had built a colour chart out of religious orders and was using it to order breakfast. It still works that way, and a Kapuziner is on the list to this day.

The Hood Has Nothing to Do With It

You will often hear that the drink is named for its shape — that the white foam on the dark coffee looks like a pale hood on a brown robe. It is a satisfying story and it is not the original one.

The name is about colour, full stop. The earliest Italian descriptions leave no room for argument: cappuccino is defined in the 1800s as black coffee with a few drops of milk or cream, which give it the colour of the tunic of the Capuchins. The hood explanation arrived much later, helped along by the fact that modern cappuccinos really do have a foam cap. It is a picture turning up after the word and then quietly explaining it backwards.

How Italy Made the Cappuccino We Actually Drink

A cappuccino in a white cup, seen from above, with a pattern drawn in the milk foam.
The modern article: espresso, steamed milk and foam in rough thirds. Every part of this except the name was engineered in Italy in the twentieth century. Photo Vee Satayamas / CC BY 2.0.

The word crossed the border with the empire, through Trieste — the Habsburgs’ great port, an Italian-speaking city full of Viennese coffee houses. It needed no translation, because Italians already used cappuccino to mean a friar.

But the drink that came across is not the drink you order. Italy kept the name and rebuilt everything underneath it, in three moves.

The coffee. A Kapuziner was ordinary brewed coffee. Italy replaced the base with espresso — hot water driven through fine grounds under pressure, into a small cup, in about half a minute. Angelo Moriondo patented a steam machine in Turin in 1884; Luigi Bezzera in Milan worked out how to do it cup by cup, patent granted 1902; Desiderio Pavoni bought that patent in 1903 and began building the machines in earnest.

The milk. This is the change that really matters. A Kapuziner got a few drops of cream, because cream kept and fresh milk did not. The new machines had a steam pipe hanging off the side, and somebody worked out you could plunge it into a jug of milk and blow air through it. That turned milk from something you poured into something you could build with.

The pressure. Steam machines managed a couple of bar, which is not enough. After the war Achille Gaggia patented a spring-lever piston that drove water through at eight to ten bar, and out came crema — the dense hazel layer on a proper shot. Gaggia machines were on café counters from 1948. In 1961 Faema’s E61 swapped the lever for an electric pump, and the drink became consistent enough to export. That machine is why the cappuccino you buy in Seattle is an Italian one and not a Viennese one.

What came out has an anatomy: espresso, hot milk and foam in rough thirds, in a cup of 150 to 180 millilitres, dark crema underneath and white foam on top. The Viennese drink was coffee with a spoonful of cream in it. Italy kept four syllables and replaced everything else.

Having built it, Italy also decided when you may have it. A cappuccino belongs to the morning, with a pastry, standing at a bar. Order one after dinner and nobody will stop you, but a cup of hot milk is understood as something you have instead of a meal rather than after one. Espresso is what follows food.

And the Monkey

A capuchin monkey with a dark cap of fur on its head and a pale face, sitting on a branch.
A capuchin monkey in Costa Rica. Dark cap, pale face — Europeans looked at it and saw a small friar in a cowl. Photo David M. Jensen (Storkk) / CC BY-SA 3.0.

Somewhere in the same stretch of history, Europeans in Central and South America met a small monkey with a dark cap of fur and a paler face, looking for all the world like a tiny friar in a cowl. They named it after the Capuchins too. One hood: an order of friars, a coffee and a monkey — all of it from the Latin caput, meaning head, which also gives us cap and cape.

Fun Fact

Cappuccino is a diminutive. The -ino is the same ending that turns a panino into a little bread roll. So the word does not mean "Capuchin coffee" — it means little Capuchin. Every morning, millions of people walk into a café and order a small friar.

Sources

Wikipedia, "Cappuccino" — the Kapuziner on Habsburg menus from the late 1700s, the Franziskaner, the 19th-century Italian definition based on the colour of the Capuchin tunic, and the modern proportions and cup size.

Wikipedia, "Order of Friars Minor Capuchin" — the 1525 reform and the return to the habit of Francis of Assisi.

Wikipedia, "Espresso machine" — Moriondo’s 1884 Turin patent, Bezzera’s 1902 patent, Pavoni’s purchase of it in 1903, why steam machines could not raise enough pressure for crema, Gaggia’s spring-lever piston at eight to ten bar, and the pump-driven Faema E61 of 1961.

Wikipedia, "E-61" — the Gaggia lever design that preceded it, and the E61’s part in making espresso consistent enough to export.

Wiktionary, "cappuccino" — the cappuccio / cappa / caput chain and the diminutive ending.