the cappuccino review blog

A couple months ago, I took a little road trip down the coast, and something happened. Something that never, ever happens to me anymore. I accidentally stumbled across a near-perfect cappuccino. The home of this spectacular cappuccino was a cafe called Joe Momma's in tiny Avila Beach, California, population 797.

I have traveled a lot and tried plenty of cappuccinos, even in towns as small as Avila Beach. But at this point, I have a pretty good idea of what I'm going to find (more or less), because I've researched the hell out of it on the coffee internet. So when I know I'm going somewhere new, I generally get on, say, coffeegeek and look up the city I'm going to, find out which coffee shops are supposed to be decent, and then go try them. And I've found, over time, that the hive mind on the internet is not often wrong. The places people say are great are usually pretty great. And vice versa.

But on this particular day, back in June, I hadn't been on the coffee internet in a while. I'd been insanely busy finishing my film (it is finished! Visit the website for more info on screenings, etc.), and I just hadn't had the time to make my usual rounds of coffeegeek, alt.coffee, home-barista, coffeed, etc. So I found myself sitting on a very windy beach on a sunny afternoon. And I turned to the Very Wonderful Michael and said, "Let's go find some coffee. It'll probably suck." So we walked up to the row of shops facing the beach and wandered into Joe Momma's.

The first sign that this place was out of the ordinary was the fact that on the menu board they list a "traditional cappuccino." I asked what the difference was between traditional and non-traditional, and they said that the traditional was the only one they serve - small, porcelain cup, single shot, wet foam... music to my ears. They just put "traditional" on the menu board as a warning to folks who might be expecting a 20-ounce cup of meringue on top of their espresso. Then I noticed that Joe Momma's serves coffees from both Ritual Coffee Roasters and Intelligentsia. I started getting excited.

And this was the result. It was delicious. Even Michael the Picky Drinker had to concede that it was among the best he's ever had. I felt joyful for the rest of the day. And then we went back the next morning - still wonderful.

It seems to me that the world is definitely changing when I can stumble across a top-notch cappuccino in a town this small. It's no longer unusual to find espresso bars in small towns (although I can very well remember when that was impossible), but it is definitely still unusual to find good espresso anywhere, much less in a tiny town. So... Joe Momma's may be an anomaly, but I'm hoping not. And I think the coffee internet is probably to be credited for this. The thing that has continued to fascinate me about the third wave is that it does not seem to have a geographic center, and it is in no way the sole property of big cities. Having been raised in San Francisco, I was kind of force-fed the idea that big cities are the origin and center of all cultural developments, and that it takes a while for said cultural developments to reach the provinces (or, as my sound design professor in film school used to call it, "Cupcake, Indiana." As in, "Sure, we like it, but how's this movie going to play in Cupcake, Indiana?")

But the third wave defies that model in a lot of ways. You can certainly argue that third wave ideals had their origin in big cities, but the movement is definitely thriving in Cupcake, Indiana. In fact, if you look at this on a per capita basis, I think Cupcake, Indiana might be kicking San Francisco's ass right now. Seriously. I've had some really great coffee recently in towns that most San Franciscans (who, I'll hasten to add, are mostly just transplants from Ohio themselves) look down their noses at: Sacramento, Capitola, San Luis Obispo, Walnut Creek... and that's just here in California. (Just wait till I get around to blogging about my recent trip to Kansas City.) I mean, if San Francisco had one coffee shop as good as Joe Momma's for every 797 inhabitants, I'd be in HEAVEN right now. My work here would be done. If the city of Oakland (pop. 397,067) had even ONE coffee shop half that good, I'd be pretty happy.

But let me get back to my earlier point: I attribute the de-centralization of the third wave to the internet. I'd be curious to hear from shop owners and roasters on this, but I am a pretty regular lurker on some of the industry chat forums, and it seems that there is an active online community of people who are exchanging advice and support pretty freely from all over North America and even the world. All the coffee pioneers seem to have banded together on the internet to learn from each other how to succeed in this business and how best to continue the pursuit of quality coffee. So as much as I have previously lamented the internet's negative influence on our interpersonal skills, and as much as I have insisted that there is no substitute for face-to-face interaction, I have to rejoice a little in the existence of the coffee internet. I love the idea of democratizing something that has previously been considered "high culture."

Labels: intelligentsia, joe momma's, ritual coffee roasters, third wave

So I went camping in the Sierras this weekend (lovely but still a little chilly), and on my way back home I stopped at Temple Fine Coffee and Tea in downtown Sacramento and had one of the best cappuccinos I've had in a good long while.

(OK, actually, I judged at the Western Regional Barista Competition in late March, and I had some good ones there. The blog entry on that experience is still forthcoming, with all my usual blogging urgency. So let's say that this capp at Temple was the best one I've had in an actual coffee shop in a good long while.)

When I ordered, I was offered the choice between two espressos - a blend called Element 114 and a single origin Ethiopian coffee called Ghimbi, both roasted by Barefoot in Santa Clara. I chose the Ghimbi, and WOW. The cappuccino was basically delicious burnt caramel in a cup. And the milk was frothed to perfection - ideal temperature, ideal texture. I think I literally smacked my lips. It had the flavor of the crackly part of a creme brulee.

The experience also ran contrary to one of my pet theories, which is that it can be hard to get a top-notch cappuccino if you go at kind of an off-hour. I've had the experience dozens of times of going to a supposedly-wonderful shop that is home to championship barista or two and getting a cappuccino that is (let's be frank) kind of crappy, because I don't happen to be there during coffee prime time (i.e., a weekday morning). So the people working behind the bar are kind of the bench warmer baristas, and you can taste it. But I was at Temple at 4 pm on a Sunday. Honestly, I was expecting the D Team to be behind the bar. But it was still a gorgeous, perfectly-made drink. For the first time in many months, I am impressed.

Labels: temple fine coffee, third wave

Last fall I took a trip to Kentucky to visit my parents, during which time me and my mom drove out to Maryland together to visit my brother and his family for a few days (nine hours in the Buick with a box full of Rodgers and Hammerstein CD’s – I won’t deny it: some seriously cheesy white people singing went down). My brother lives in Eldersburg, a smallish community west of Baltimore, so in between catching up on General Hospital with my sister in-law and attending my nephews’ little league games, I got a chance to pay a visit to Spro Coffee in nearby Towson, Maryland. Here’s what I think about Spro Coffee: FUCK YEAH!!!

Seriously, I have been dreaming about that coffee ever since. I think I may have encountered the platonic ideal of espresso. No joke. But let me get into the particulars…

Spro Coffee is owned and operated by a character named Jay Caragay. I was familiar with Jay because he is the co-host of the portafilter podcast (which I have mentioned in this blog before) and because I saw him compete in the 2006 U.S. Barista Championships in Charlotte, N.C. I particularly remember his presentation, because he made a specialty drink involving a liquid (was it half and half?) that had been infused with cigar tobacco. Not for the first time, I found myself sitting in the audience at a barista competition wishing I were one of the judges so I could TASTE this stuff. I also knew of Jay prior to visiting his shop because he is something of a vocal presence on the coffee internet; he’s outspoken, irreverent, and not one to back down from a verbal online tussle. So… imagine my surprise when I learned that this man’s coffee “shop” is actually a kiosk located inside the local library. That’s right. Mere feet away from the spot where Miss Nancy treats the children of Towson to heartfelt readings of Where The Red Fern Grows during story hour, this shit-starting, smartmouthed badass of the Third Wave plies his trade.

I love this.

Anyway, over the course of an afternoon spent hanging out with Jay, I tried three different drinks, and they were all stupendous. The first was, of course, a cappuccino, made by Jay himself. This was it (yes, I took a few sips before I took the picture. Sorry to ruin your viewing pleasure.) It was textbook: smooth liquid-y foam and espresso that complemented the sweetness of the milk perfectly. Jay had recently made the decision to switch from commodity milk to organic milk from grass-fed local cows; in my estimation, the change was worth it. (You can read more about the agonizing decision to switch to better-quality-but-more-expensive milk on Jay’s blog.)

After I drank the cappuccino, the lovely barista in the picture (whose name I am blanking on because it’s been MONTHS since I was there – see title above) made me a house specialty drink that was equally impressive. In the intervening months, the memory of exactly what that drink was has failed me. But I remember that it involved honey, and it was nice and small – about the size of a macchiato – and it reminded me of Italy, where they know how to make flavored drinks without blenders and without the need for a 20-ounce plastic cup with a domed lid.

After two excellent drinks and some hangout time at the library, Jay took me over to nearby restaurant Woodberry Kitchen. And that’s where I saw god. We were just hanging out, taking a look around, and shooting the breeze with the restaurant’s owners (who formerly operated Artifact Coffee out of that same location) when Jay jumped on the restaurant’s 2-group Synesso and pulled me a plain old shot of espresso. Holy heck. It’s hard to put into words just what made this shot of espresso perfect, but it was certainly my idea of perfect. It was round and full and delicious; it was simply the coffee-est tasting coffee I’ve had in a very long time. And that is saying something. As has been noted repeatedly in the recent press about specialty coffee, the world of high quality coffee has adopted some of the attributes and affectations of the world of wine. Among the people who are doing exciting things with coffee, a lot of effort has been going into raising awareness of the terroir of individual coffees, and this often involves isolating or emphasizing the component flavors that make a particular coffee unique – a note of cherry over here, a floral aroma over there. Roasters, baristas and tasters alike, we’re all sitting around marveling at the melon-rind flavor in this coffee or whatever. Last time I was in Tulsa, I had a Guatemalan coffee that tasted a lot like pork chops. I kid you not. I mean, we are talking delicious, wonderful pork, king of the beasts. But still. This is something new. Espresso made from single-origin coffees rather than blends is new. Third Wave shops using their clovers to get customers to pause and identify the hint of hibiscus in their coffee is new. The cappuccino I had at Lulu’s in Santa Cruz a few weeks ago that was like somebody shoved a fruit basket up my nose is NEW. Don’t get me wrong. I have been REVELING in all these coffee experiences. I love all the experimenting that’s going on. I love that American roasters are playing around with espresso (and coffee in general) in ways that are standing Italian conventional wisdom about espresso on its ear. I love coffee that tastes like pork!

But it was nice, on this particular day back in September, to have a shot of espresso that was so perfectly espresso-ey. It was complex and simple at the same time; there were multiple taste sensations, but they were in such perfect balance that it would have been very difficult to single them out; they just gave me an overwhelming sensation of… COFFEE. That single shot of espresso has had some serious staying power in my psyche too. I’ve been tasting it over and over again in my imagination in the months since, which is extremely rare for me. (No kidding, the sense memories I have been having of this particular espresso would impress even the Norma Desmond-esque old bat who endeavored to teach us the Stanislavski Method back in film school.) Both Spro Coffee and Woodberry Kitchen get their espresso from Hines Public Market in British Columbia. So I guess a big shoutout goes to them. And to Jay for pulling such a beautiful shot on a machine that had mostly been sitting around doing nothing all day. And (I guess) to the folks at Synesso for making a good machine, and to the folks at Woodberry Kitchen for maintaining it.

(How did this suddenly turn into an oscar acceptance speech? All that’s missing is god and my agent.)

Anyway, thanks, Jay, for giving me a memorable coffee day! And sorry for taking so long to get around to writing about it! (see title above.)

CORRECTION - FEBRUARY 27, 2008:
I got the following update from Jay Caragay yesterday about his barista and about the coffee they serve at Woodberry Kitchen (owned by Spike, referenced below)...

"The barista that you met in the picture is Arianna Travaglini. She's a great barista who's been with me pretty much from the start of Spro. Like me, she likes to get up and travel the world from time to time.

Oh, and just a correction before Spike's roasters get their feathers ruffled. It's only when they run out of coffee that I give them a bag (or two) of Hines to tide them over until their next shipment. Their main roaster is Counter Culture Coffee of Durham, NC."

Labels: spro coffee, third wave

In late January I took a trip to Texas, to shoot a couple of key interviews for my film – one with John Moore, a former Starbucks marketing exec, and one with Virginia Postrel, an Atlantic Monthly columnist who has written very eloquently in defense of chain stores (well, she’s written very eloquently on a number of things, but I was interested in the chain stores).

So the interviews were terrific – very thought-provoking, much-needed material for the film, etc. But the real find of the trip was Caffe Medici in Austin. When I found out I’d be heading to Dallas and Austin, I did what I usually do – tried to figure out where a good cappuccino could (allegedly) be found in those cities. My usual espresso-finding sources turned up ZERO on Dallas. (And my experience there supported this finding; the ONLY coffee shops I saw there were Starbucks. No independents, no competing chains, nothing. Does anybody have any inside scoop that would contradict this?) But the word-of-mouth on Austin led me to Caffe Medici, a newly-opened espresso-lover’s paradise in Clarksville. And I was not disappointed.

First things first: the cappuccinos were top-notch. I had three of them over the course of two days, made by three different baristas, and they were all delicious. Gorgeous microfoam, perfectly-extracted espresso, no sugar needed. I was so impressed. And I was likewise impressed with the store’s layout. You walk in, and the first thing that catches your eye is the espresso machine, a beautiful La Marzocco FB70. Standing in Caffe Medici, I realized that in a lot of espresso bars, the first thing you notice is the cash register, not least because it’s meant to be your first stop. But at Caffe Medici, the espresso machine is literally on stage; it’s protruding outward into the customer space so that you can see all sides of it. Michael Vaclav who founded Caffe Medici last fall along with his wife, Alison, told me that they did a complete redesign of the space before opening. Their intention was to make the espresso machine as visible as possible to the customer, in hopes of encouraging questions and conversation about espresso. Bringing spectacle back into espresso-making – music to my ears!

So I wound up shooting an interview/cappuccino-making demo with Michael, and I was impressed by his reverence for the technical details of producing fine espresso, as well as his acknowledgment that there’s just a certain amount of human flair that goes into it too. And at a certain point in the conversation, I started to notice something; this was all sounding very familiar. Michael’s thoughts on the cappuccino in particular and the specialty coffee business in general really echo those I’ve heard (and been impressed by) at a number of newly-opened shops, including some that I’ve blogged about here: Ritual and the Blue Bottle in San Francisco, Caffe Luxxe in Santa Monica, DoubleShot in Tulsa, Oklahoma… so I’m starting to conclude that this whole third wave thing might, in fact, be real.

I’ll be honest: I didn’t totally buy into the third wave idea at first. The general thinking behind it is that there have been three waves of coffee culture in the U.S. The first was all about just getting people to consume coffee – often exemplified by Folgers. The second was about introducing espresso and getting people to actually think of coffee as something to enjoy rather than fuel up on - often exemplified by Starbucks; and the third is happening now, with a kind of grassroots movement toward quality and connoisseurship above all else. I sometimes refer to it as the coffee-is-like-wine thing, because it’s a lot about trying to highlight individual coffees’ uniqueness, rather than trying to create a stable, static product. (You can read more about the third wave here.) At first I was a little skeptical, because from the outside this “wave” looked like a couple of people who were all friends with each other and had some nice ideas about coffee. I mean, it was a cool concept, but 99% of American cappuccinos still taste like the litter box, you know? Some wave.

But in the past year or so (and this is subjective, as I am a coffee DRINKER, not a coffee professional), all these new places have been popping up, and I’ve started to see some real momentum, so I’ve started hoping and praying and pleading with the universe that this might actually turn into a real sea-change in the way Americans think about coffee. And I think Caffe Medici kind of tipped the scales for me, because Michael Vaclav doesn’t seem to have any personal connections to any of the big “founders” of the third wave. But now, here he is, making some truly amazing espresso and speaking like a dyed-in-the-wool third waver. So I am newly hopeful that this way of thinking will continue to spread.

And I think, oddly enough, that America might be poised to push the coffee-is-like-wine philosophy to a new level of acceptance precisely because of our extraordinarily dismal preparation skills. I mean, look at the contrast between America and Italy. Italy is a country that genuinely values baristas. It’s not uncommon for baristas to be graduates of training programs or even hotel and restaurant schools. It’s not uncommon for baristas to stay baristas for life, slowly perfecting their crafts over many years and then passing their knowledge on to apprentices. And it’s not uncommon for the average joe off the street to appreciate what the barista does. Preparation RULES in Italy, and it makes up for a lot. You can have a mediocre coffee prepared as a perfectly-extracted shot of espresso, and you will still enjoy it. Now, this is just my unscientific observation based on a few years of watching and drinking and thinking about these things, but I think that American roasters are trying WAY more interesting things than Italian roasters are these days. They are definitely experimenting with a wider variety of roast levels and, at the retail level, it’s far more common in America to see people offering single-origin shots, for instance, or to see even the smallest roasteries offering more than one espresso blend. Experimentation is happening here; it’s not all successful, but it’s happening. By contrast, I think Italians might be resting on their preparation laurels. There’s not much ambition to go nuts trying to make a better coffee, because there is no perceived LACK of good coffee (not the way there is in America, at any rate.) So I think there’s opportunity there to combine this attention to the uniqueness of individual coffees with a higher level of preparation skills – as many third wavers are doing – to produce something extraordinary. And, as I mentioned in a previous post, when you combine all of the aforementioned with the casual, warm social space of the American coffee house, you basically have my personal version of HEAVEN.

I feel like I am on kind of shaky ground here – throwing out some speculation on things that I know very little about (I mean, what do I REALLY know about roasting coffee? Nothing. I just like to drink it.) But I’ll tell you one concrete thing I have noticed: I started shooting my documentary almost five years ago, in the summer of 2002. I was about to leave the country to spend a year in Italy, and I had to drive from L.A. to Kentucky to drop off my car at my parents’ house, and along the way, I stopped to interview a bunch of indie coffee shop owners. Naturally, I asked a lot of these small business owners what they thought of Starbucks or if they felt threatened by the arrival of Starbucks in their town. I expected resentment. Competition. Fighting words. But ALL of these small business owners expressed admiration for Starbucks. And most of them said that they would BE Starbucks if they could. Who wouldn’t, they asked, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

Now, almost five years later, there is this whole group of small business owners who really, really wouldn’t, even if they could. It’s not that these are a bunch of dirty communists who don’t want to make money; it’s just that they believe that the best way to make their businesses successful is by putting coffee quality first, and that seems incongruous with tremendous growth. Some of them are experimenting with expanding to, say, two stores instead of one, but they all express a certain skepticism about whether it’s possible to maintain control of the quality of the coffee once the business gets too big. All of their business decisions flow outward from this central idea of producing exceptional coffee. Period. Now, of course, all of this begs the question of whether and to what extent the third wave is a reaction to Starbucks, but that’s maybe a discussion for another time, as I don’t want to overstep the boundaries of your reading patience.

So regardless of where it comes from, celebrate the existence of the third wave! When you drink a good cappuccino, tell your barista how much you love him! And when you are in Austin, check out Caffe Medici. Knowing how hard it is to build a successful retail establishment and knowing how many small businesses fail, I feel a certain amount of mother-hen worry over places like Caffe Medici or Caffe Luxxe that are brand spanking new. What if they don’t make it? What if people never catch on? And, horror of horrors, what if they give up the fight and start serving nonfat, extra-dry big gulp “cappuccinos”??? This whole third wave thing is making me feel like I do when I’ve just started dating someone I REALLY like – elated and terrified at the same time. I’m simultaneously glowing with happiness and walking on eggshells, thinking don’tfuckupdon’tfuckupdon’tfuckupdon’tfuckup.

Labels: blue bottle coffee, caffe luxxe, caffe medici, doubleshot coffee, ritual coffee roasters, store layout, third wave

After such a long time of NO BLOGGING, one would hope that I would have something sensational to say. I do not. I don't even have any particularly good excuses, except that for the past two months I have been editing my film, so all my cappuccino-related energies have been going into that, I guess.

As for cappuccino-DRINKING, the standout of my life here in San Francisco continues to be Ritual Coffee Roasters on Valencia. I don't go all that often, as I live way across town, so when I get there, it's like this incredibly special treat. What can I tell you? This place just ROCKS. They get it. They always do it right. They have a large staff of very well-trained baristas and a gorgeous espresso machine that is a pleasure to look at (as well as be served from). Ritual has really become THE place I recommend to anyone visiting San Francisco (or anyone at all, for that matter.) They started out serving espresso from Stumptown in Portland, but within the past few months, they've started roasting their own coffees, and the last time I was there, I got to try one of their first efforts at an espresso blend. To be honest, my untrained palate would never have noticed that it wasn't Stumptown. (I mean, maybe if I tasted them one right after the other. But not a few weeks apart.) It tasted VERY similar to me. But co-owner Eileen tells me that they're not done developing it, so who knows how it'll change. I'll be curious to see...

What's funny to me about all this is that they have only been open for a year and a half(ish). And my other San Francisco fave, the Blue Bottle, is likewise only a couple years old. I've been going to coffee shops in San Francisco for a good 17 or 18 years now, and while I have not always been as serious about cappuccino quality as I am now (yes, I drank mochas with piles of sugar in them back when I was 16), the truth is that I have kind of been scratching my head lately and wondering what I did before Ritual and the Blue Bottle were around.

I mean, there WERE the 7 years in L.A. And the year in Rome. But I always spent time in SF, even when I was living elsewhere. So where did I go? The answer is North Beach. The Italian part of town. My two faves for getting a cappuccino were always The Steps of Rome and Caffe Roma, both on Columbus. I'm sorry to report that the Steps of Rome has just gone completely downhill in this department. I mean, uck. I think it's because they've started focusing more on being a restaurant and attracting tourists instead of locals. Or maybe it's because they stopped playing Pino Daniele all the time. Who knows? But I had a cappuccino there last month and it was a disgrace to the name cappuccino. What a disappointment. (Like, seriously, I'm crushed. There are too few good cappuccino joints around to not mourn when one of them falls. I'm drinking a beer right now, and I almost want to pour some out for my dead homey. Except I'm sitting at my dad's desk, and I don't think he'd like that.) Anyway, Caffe Roma is still around and still employing decently-trained baristas. And there's always the "traditional cappuccino" option at Peet's, where they will actually give you an 8 oz capp in a porcelain cup, made with a single shot. But you have to be careful to ask for really wet foam and hope that you get one of the baristas who's been around for a while, or you're screwed.

Alright, that was a huge aside (blame the beer), but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been looking back over my coffee-drinking history a lot lately - for purposes related to the editing of my film - and I've realized that there's always been this big dichotomy for me. There were the coffee shops that were awesome for hanging out in, and there were the coffee shops (much fewer in number) that had good cappuccinos, and they were very rarely the same places. The hangout places had a couch or two... some chess sets... plenty of tables... newspapers lying around... And the places with good cappuccinos tended to be places where I didn't feel particularly inclined to linger afterward.

I can further define this dichotomy as Italian vs. American. The good cappuccinos were always served in places that were very ITALIAN. So... not much on the menu besides the basic espresso, cappuccino, caffellatte, etc. No soft furniture. Very small, European cafe tables. None of the really homey, inviting feel of the American coffee shops that are all over San Francisco and are so comfy to sit in but have really crappy cappuccinos. (San Franciscans, you know what I'm talking about! Those places that serve their tea and espresso drinks in tall glasses, for cripes sake. But they're so warm... so inviting... you just want to hang out and shoot the breeze for hours... Bean There, Royal Ground, Crepe 'n' Coffee, The Blue Danube... I could go on.)

But these two types of coffee shop - Italian and American - have really found a meeting place in Ritual. It's got the simple menu and the commitment to quality of an Italian place (in fact, it OUTDOES the Italian places) but it also feels very much like an American place, with its couches and big tables and San Francisco-ey feel. The downside is that it is PACKED at all hours. I've never been there and not had to behave like a bird of prey just to get a seat (in spite of the fact that it's HUGE.) On the one hand, it's great to see them doing such good business. On the other hand, WILL ALL OF THOSE PEOPLE GET THE F OUT OF MY WAY?? Actually, let me rephrase. I don't mind the crowds. I mind the crowds of people who are glued to their laptops. There's a bit of a melancholy air there sometimes, because the people who are interacting with each other and having fun are all behind the counter. The rest of us are in an all-out war for real estate.

But now I'm quibbling. This place truly rocks. It reminds me of my other favorite coffee place (which also has that best-of-both-worlds quality). And I get kind of giddy when I go there because I think of the possibilities of truly exceptional espresso preparation entering an American social idiom. Will more places like Ritual spring up? (I am hoping so - I mean, the hipsters-with-laptops overflow is tremendous. Somebody give these people more places to GO!) Are we entering some kind of golden age? Is the third wave actually a WAVE and not an isolated bunch of people who are nuts about espresso? (And can somebody come up with something better than "third wave" to describe it? Sounds like a bunch of college girls at a Take Back The Night rally...)

I don't know. But I'm excited. Up till now, I worried that the only genuinely American interpretation of Italian espresso started with S and involved TOTAL GLOBAL DOMINATION. But whew. Maybe we are safe.

Labels: ritual coffee roasters, third wave