Beware of the automatic choice

I CONFESS that I am a coffee junkie, but when I opened Smollensky's Balloon in 1986 I couldn't find a machine that would make cappuccino and espresso (c&e for short) from real beans and fresh milk at a speed that made sense for a high-volume operation.

Instead, I found one that made them from instant coffee and powdered milk in six seconds at the push of a button. It also made a realistic cappuccino head and was idiot-proof. The whole thing was perfect, except for one thing. I hated it.

The coffee looked like the real thing but it had no aroma or body, and I wouldn't drink it. But thousands of customers a week lapped it up and some even complimented its quality. Unlike the jeweller Gerald Ratner, who did it openly, I secretly sniggered behind my cupped hand at their lack of taste.

About nine months ago one of my non-executive directors, a man who knows a thing or two about good taste, said: "Michael, you have got to change your coffee."

I protested that most people didn't mind it, and some of them even liked it. "Tastes are becoming more sophisticated," he countered, "and you won't be able to get away with it much longer". Something told me he had a point.

I resolved to look at new coffee machines.

The technology had moved on dramatically. I found many machines that would make c&e with fresh beans and fresh milk in seconds at the touch of a button. Though these were five times slower than my own machines (the waitress would have to get used to it) I also knew they were much faster than the more traditional manual machines.

Since I needed four machines at £9,000 a pop, I was going to take my time deciding which one to go for. It wasn't easy. I then met a supplier who was a kindred spirit as far as customer service was concerned. He said: "Why don't I just put in a machine on loan and if you don't like it I'll take it away." How could I resist an offer like that? After all, it is the same thing I say to my customers every day.

At last! The smell and taste of real coffee at Smollensky's.

But there were problems. I soon found out the weakest part of all automatics are their frothers. At the start of the week the froth would be so solid you could rest a piece of chocolate on it, but by Saturday night it was as thin and transparent as a Tory policy. I was glad I hadn't paid for the machine.

Then the unexpected happened. A coffee supplier asked me why I was bothering with these automatics as they were slower, twice the price and more unreliable than traditional manual machines. Double the price I knew, unreliable I had learned, but slower? I didn't believe her.

To prove it she hauled me off to a busy restaurant which used a manual machine. She then expertly made four perfect cappuccinos in one minute (versus two minutes on the automatic). How could I have been so wrong? Because of some idiotic preconceived idea I assumed the automatics were faster. I never bothered to verify it for myself because you never do when you're sure of something, do you? I felt foolish and ignorant.

So after a year of experimentation was this the answer at last? Frankly, my confidence was so shaken by this episode that I didn't trust myself to believe what I had seen. I insisted she repeat the demo for the management of both Smollensky's. Oh Lord.

One group thought it brilliant, while the other, surprise surprise, preferred the automatics. So in a couple of weeks we'll be testing a traditional manual machine to see how we get on.

A lot of trouble for a cup of coffee, you may be thinking. True, but I suspect if eventually we get it right, my customers, managers and bank manager will be thanking me for years to come. Call me if you're interested in the outcome. n