Our second set of miniature beverages arrive in Lavazza labelled cups. The crema is thick and vibrant. With fear of a bitter coffee, I’m a little haphazard about the sweetening process, forgetting that the single is decidedly small. To our dismay the sugar disappears from view instantly, penetrating a crema that immediately dissipates. A gentle stir and we sup away. It’s an acidic, complex mouthful; not at all unpleasant but mired somewhat by an overly fine grind. Ground coffee speckling the cup is a criticism that can be attested to a bad marriage of grinder and espresso machine above anything else.

Without further ado we settle up and venture a small way across SoHo to Enoteca, a location Spencer is keen to include. Both opting for double espresso, this time the crema is less appealing. Undismayed, we repeat our sweetening process and enjoy the third espresso of the day. What it lacks in crema and body, this little Italian firecracker more than makes up for in flavour - a mild, easily drinkable coffee that subsequently disappears in seconds. Delicious.

Our final port of call, The Brunch Club, is a last minute addition. We’re walking at one hundred and sixty miles per hour, minds audibly buzzing with jacked-up activity. Two double espressos please, with forethought we’d have ordered a side of water. The espressos arrive piping hot and dark. There’s no crema to speak of, but that does nothing to ebb Spencer’s flow. “This is the worst crema of the lot - See how watery the coffee is?” It’s all I can do to see, full stop – I’m playing host to the opening stages of a decidedly crippling headache. Sweetening and stirring, we drink our final espresso of the day. Breathing the aroma in as we do so, there’s a dark bitterness to it. The bitterness extends to the flavour and we’re both subconsciously prompted to add a touch more sugar. The sugar reduces the tart flavour but masks the subtleties of the roast. We’re left with coffee syrup. “Mine’s too sweet.” “Mine too.”

Our espresso-tasting journey comes to an abrupt halt and we’re quick to reach a conclusion. With Enoteca’s flavoursome espresso gleaning the best of our complimentary thoughts, Spencer articulates his opinion well “The espresso at Enoteca was a great coffee, relatively well made. We should go back for more.”

Uninterested, I leave Spencer to pick up the tab, a jittering wreck, disappearing into the bathroom. A splash of cold water and I’m ready to depart. We walk out into an impromptu rainstorm, which only reminds me further of the hydration my body is begging for.

Spencer does well to suggest he feels great but his glassy eyes tell a different story altogether.