There are certain souvenirs that never fit into a suitcase.

Some travelers come home with handmade ceramics, olive oil, or bottles of ouzo. I came home from Greece obsessed with coffee.

Not espresso. Not iced coffee. Not cold brew.

Cappuccino freddo.

I discovered it almost immediately after arriving in Greece, where cafés seemed to appear every few steps, each one filled with people lingering over impossibly smooth iced coffees. And I don’t say that to dramatize. We landed in Athens at 5 AM local time and the cab took us STRAIGHT to a cafe near our Air B and B, where we immediately partook in the drink.

Now, this wasn’t just a morning ritual. It was an all-day one. Friends seemed to meet over freddos in the afternoon. Couples sat for hours with a single drink. Nobody seemed to be rushing anywhere.

As someone who usually reaches for decaf (caf makes me jittery), I ordered mine that way whenever possible. I assumed it might somehow diminish the experience. But it didn’t. The flavor was rich, the espresso remained unmistakable, and the silky cloud of cold foam floating on top somehow transformed the entire drink into something far greater than iced coffee.

The first sip was enough to make me realize I had been missing something. Back home in the United States, I assumed recreating it would be simple. Brew espresso. Add ice. Froth some milk. But it wasn’t even close.

I even held conversations about this with the cafe baristas over there – how they did it, what ratio of coffee to milk they used, and the various ways the drink was poured over ice. One barista, in fact, took such pride in his coffee, as he was explaining his process to me, that he felt compelled to pour my husband and I extra drinks, on the house, in order to prove his teaching point. Gotta love that guy!

The problem in the recreation of this incredible coffee drink is acheiving that texture.

Greek cappuccino freddo isn’t topped with ordinary frothed milk. It has an almost marshmallow-like foam that somehow remains thick enough to float above the espresso without immediately disappearing. The coffee stays cold without becoming watery. Every sip combines chilled espresso with just enough creamy foam to soften the edges without overwhelming the coffee itself.

For days before returning home, I searched for answers. I wanted to leave no stone unturned and be sure I got the answers straight from the source (of yumminess).

After learning that in Greece, specialized milk frothers designed specifically for cold foam are common kitchen appliances, and not necessarily niche gadgets, I decided to indulge in one. If they could simply be part of making coffee for the Greek, they could easily do the same for Americans. No?

Truth be told, I already owned a handheld version. I’ve had it for a few months, in fact, and it’s worked really great. Here it is, from Amazon (I ordered ours in black), with free shipping if you’re Prime.

But I wanted the bigger machine. I wanted more power, more “marshmallow” to my foam. and so before we even left the beautiful country of Greece, I ordered one. I researched the different ones and, short of getting an actual Greek machine which needed a converter to plug in, I settled on a slender Hamilton Beach countertop beauty that came in classic chrome. You can look at the one I purchased here, and if you decide to get your own, keep in mind that shipping’s free with Prime.

Greek cappuccino freddo isn’t topped with ordinary frothed milk. It has an almost marshmallow-like foam that somehow remains thick enough to float above the espresso without immediately disappearing.

It ended up being a small countertop machine dedicated almost entirely to producing dense, cold drinks (and not just milk foam), and it’s changed everything. At least where our morning and mid-day drink snack routine go.

Now the mornings have become something of a ritual. I brew two shots of espresso (when preparing for my hubby), or one decaf base for me, made from the local instant decaf granules from Whole Foods, and either froth the coffee itself for a minute or let it cool by pouring them over plenty of ice. If I make one for the kids, I’ll sometimes add a touch of sugar before chilling the espresso, just as many cafés in Greece do. While the espresso cools, the machine transforms cold milk into an incredibly thick foam. I pour this cloud over the coffee using the back of a spoon, and refrain from mixing it in, creating the distinct layers that first caught my attention overseas.

The result isn’t identical to sitting in a café overlooking the Aegean Sea. Nothing could be.

But it’s remarkably close.

What’s surprised me most isn’t simply how much I enjoy the drink. It’s how much it reminds me of the pace of life I experienced in Greece.

Coffee there felt less transactional than it often does back home. It wasn’t fuel grabbed while walking to the next meeting. It was permission to sit. To people-watch (I LOVE people-watching). To talk. To linger just a little longer.

Perhaps that’s part of why cappuccino freddo tastes different in Greece. The recipe certainly matters, but so does the culture surrounding it.

I may not be sitting in a sunlit square on Paros anymore, watching scooters zip by while the afternoon drifts along at its own pace. But every morning, for a few quiet minutes, my kitchen feels just a little more Greek.

If you’re hoping to recreate it yourself, here’s what finally worked for me:

• Two shots of espresso (or use decaf)
• Plenty of ice
• Sugar, if desired, dissolved into the hot espresso before chilling
• Cold milk – skim milk actually gets the thickest (this is one of the secrets the barista from Greece shared with me, apparently because it’s highest in proteins), but I’ve found that whole or 2% works pretty well, too
• A dedicated cold milk frother capable of producing dense foam – one of the two I suggest above is great!

Pour the espresso over ice, prepare the cold foam separately, then gently spoon the foam on top instead of stirring it in. Drink through the foam, just as they do in Greece.

It’s a surprisingly small ritual that has become one of my favorite ways to hold onto a trip long after the passport has been put away.