Opinion: Don't call this coffee an Americano!

It’s a double-double shakeup in the world of Canadian coffee. A number of coffee shops across the country have swapped out the term Americano for something with a little more homegrown flair: the Canadiano.

The name change comes as a polite-but-pointed response to former U.S. President Donald Trump’s tough talk on trade, including threats of tariffs on Canadian goods and the eyebrow-raising notion that Canada should consider becoming the 51st U.S. state.

“We’re proud of what we brew north of the 49th,” said Todd Simpson, owner of the Morning Owl cafés in Ottawa, speaking to CTV News. “We don’t need to import names along with everything else. It just feels right to make our coffee a little more Canadian—even if the beans still come from Central America, not the Prairies.”

Canadians are known worldwide for their courtesy, but folks sometimes forget—we also invented hockey, where the gloves come off, the teeth come out, and you still shake hands at the end.

According to Barista Magazine’s Bhavi Patel, the Americano traces its roots to post–Second World War Italy. American G.I.s, unfamiliar with the sharp punch of Italian espresso, would ask for a milder version. Local baristas obliged, adding hot water and a little side-eye.

“There’s a bit of irony in the name,” explained Stacey Lynden, cupping manager at B.C.-based Swiss Water. “To Italians, the Americano was probably seen as a watered-down version of their beloved espresso—still coffee, just, you know... a little less bold.”

And while Americans might grin at being labelled "less refined," weaker might be pushing it.

So now, some Canuck cafés are brewing up a new identity, one espresso shot at a time. But if we really want a drink that screams “True North strong and free,” maybe we need to take it further.

Imagine a coffee infused with notes of Labrador cobalt and Saskatchewan potash, with just a hint of smoked maple and a dusting of crushed Timbits. Brewed over jagged shards of Yukon ice, served in a mug shaped like a canoe.

And when it’s ready, don’t just call out a name from behind the counter. Have the barista don a goalie mask, slide across the café floor, and gently slapshot the mug into a tiny net beside the cream and sugar.

“Your Canadiano’s ready, bud. You can grab it like a good sport—or you can come get it the hard way. Eh?”