Fensterccino—a cappuccino served in a chocolate-lined waffle cone. That’s the official definition straight from the inventor (me). Honestly, it’s not really a cappuccino at all. It’s closer to what the Spanish call a cortado. But that detail had nothing to do with the drink’s success or Fenster’s rise.
The idea came to me fast and simple. Even before Fenster existed—back when it was just a dream—I was scrolling through Facebook and stumbled across a story about a trendy new product: coffee in a cone. Just cones, really. It was something totally fresh, and it grabbed my attention right away. I remember the moment clearly. I thought: This will make Fenster insanely cool and unforgettable. And that’s exactly what happened.
I started hunting for the company that made those cones. Not easy at the time. But a few days later, I got in touch. Turns out, yes, it was possible to order them.
But here was the catch—shipping from the other side of the world, huge minimum order quantities, and prices through the roof. Still, I was ready to buy. At the same time, I kept searching for alternatives.
And I found one. A group of guys in Bucharest were making something similar. I discovered them almost by accident, endlessly scrolling social media until I spotted a cone that looked a little different from Coffee in a Cone. I messaged the café that had posted it, asking for the supplier’s contact info. They said they’d pass along my request. Weeks went by. No response. I kept following up. Nothing. And then—out of nowhere—an email landed in my inbox.
We struck a deal quickly. The price was half as much, and I could order just a hundred cones at a time. I jumped at the chance. But that was only the beginning.
Delivery turned out to be another adventure. There was no easy way to ship from Bucharest to Vienna. So they loaded boxes of cones onto the Bucharest–London bus, which made a random pit stop at some gas station in the middle of nowhere outside Vienna. My job? Wait around for hours, trying to guess arrival times while juggling Romanian, English, German, and Ukrainian with the drivers. Not exactly glamorous.
And of course, many cones arrived broken. Sometimes a few, sometimes a lot. It was obvious they were getting crushed in transit. So we started experimenting with packaging—layers of padding, stabilizers, clever tricks—until we got it right. By the end, less than 1% of cones arrived damaged. A miracle, really.
To be fair, the guys always replaced what was broken. But I didn’t always ask for compensation. I was afraid they’d get tired of the hassle and stop shipping to me altogether.
Another problem: leaking. Early on, the chocolate coating inside the cones wasn’t reliable. Some would leak after just one or two minutes. We spent ages testing different chocolates and thicknesses until we nailed it. Now every batch passes our leak test—boiling water inside the cone for over an hour and a half. That’s one of our little secrets.
We worked with the Bucharest team for quite a while. But one day they told me they were shutting down entirely. I was crushed. Just when everything was running smoothly, it all collapsed.
I started searching again. I tried out chocolate-lined waffle cups with flat bottoms from other suppliers. They weren’t bad, and for almost a year some customers kept asking for them. But in the end, I knew we needed the classic cones. Bigger, more iconic, and already recognizable.
Finally, fate stepped in. I connected with a local confectioner who also worked with chocolate. We tested a bunch of different cones and landed on a version produced by a nearby bakery. The system was simple: buy the cones, send them to the confectioner, coat them with chocolate, and pack them properly. By that point, we already knew how to handle shipping.
That’s the process we still use today. Of course, the early batches had their hiccups—breakage, leaks, all kinds of frustrations. But we quickly got the quality where we needed it to be.
At this point, I know enough about cones to start producing them myself. But I believe everyone should stick to what they do best. We’re not a bakery or a chocolatier—we roast and serve coffee. Our partners make the cones. And they do a fantastic job.
As for the life and journey of the Fensterccino at Fenster—that’s a story for the next chapter.
Time to grab a coffee!!! ☕
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