The Blendization of Premium Coffee

When I started roasting coffee about six years ago, one of the things that drew me to this passion was the wonder of single origin coffees.  I began my exploration, as most coffee lovers do, by learning about the main growing regions of the world (Central and South America, Africa and Indonesia), and then, through experimenting with the broad range of coffees offered by the homeroasting suppliers, I dug deeper to learn about coffees from individual countries and the regions within each of these. And there I found an endless journey through flavors and aromas and stories and processing methods that is what motivates my love of coffee today.

To give you a sense of how massive this universe of coffees can be, have a look at today’s offering list from one of the importers I use – featuring 339 different coffees.  Click on the little symbols next to some of these to learn more about where these were grown and their flavor profiles.

When these coffees make their way to roasters, they have one of two destinies.  Some will be used for blends (such as our Indo Limbo French Roast or Espresso Nirvana), while others will be sold as unblended “single origin” coffees.  Our current offerings from Brazil, Ethiopia, Guatemala and Sumatra are examples of these.

In looking around at where coffee is sold, you’ll see that most of what is out there for mass consumption (grocery stores, café chains, donut shops, restaurants, gas stations, etc.) are blends.  These are coffee products where the maker wants you to get used to a brand identity (Sunrise Blend, Dark Magic, Winter Warmer) and be confident that you will always be getting the same product wherever or whenever you buy it. (You are not, by the way, getting the same product.  Blends are one of the dirty little secrets of the coffee world, with large-scale roasters gaming the international markets to find low cost “blender” coffees, then enhancing these with better coffees and roasting styles that give these products their identities.)

Single origin coffees are the realm of smaller roasters.  We buy these great coffees in relatively small quantities, roast and sell them until they are gone, and then move on to another set of offerings.  We take chances to do this.  In a world of blends, the typical consumer doesn’t know much about growing regions, much less about the differences between Ethiopian coffees from the Harrar, Sidamo and Yirgacheffe growing regions.

In large grocery chains, you’ll encounter just a few coffees designated by a country of origin (typically Sumatra, Columbia and Brazil), but rarely if ever will you see information about regions within a country or specific farms.  Single origin coffees are more easily found in health food stores, independent cafés, farmers markets or roaster websites. 

I think single origin coffees are a good thing.  They promote knowledge of the sources of coffee, enhance the range of flavors available to the consumer and encourage farmers to grow better coffee.  I wish we as an industry had more ways to sell them, and that more roasters and retailers would make the extra effort to offer them.

Unfortunately, I fear that trends are moving in the opposite direction.  When we travel – and when I go to any store that sells coffee – I look at menus and retail offerings to see what is available.  In doing this, I have always appreciated the commitment of small cafés and roasters to single origin coffees.  These require more consumer education and more dialog with customers about the nuances of specific coffees and how they are different than what someone may have drank the day before.  But this year, for the first time, I have seen significant numbers of small coffee businesses moving away from single origin coffees and into menus comprised of only blends. 

My guess is that these changes are the result of business decisions about what works and what doesn’t work for each of these companies.  Many coffee drinkers care mainly about getting a good, consistent cup at whatever roast level they prefer supplied in a way that is convenient to where they live or work.  To understand and appreciate single origin coffees requires more commitment on the part of all concerned – roasters and retailers need to spend more time on education, and consumers need to spend more time savoring their coffee so that they see a reason to seek out these special beans.

We will keep offering both families of coffee, as our customers break down pretty evenly into blend lovers (Espresso Nirvana, Road Trip! and Indo Limbo French Roast) and those who surf our single origin offerings from Brazil, Guatemala, Ethiopia, Sumatra and others.

To each, his or her own.

The Robusta Experiment

A few weeks ago, you all received a cryptic note from me, inviting you to try a mysterious potion called “Espresso Experimento”.  Some of you then put your faith in me, sight unseen (or more properly, taste untasted), knowing that this was a worthwhile experiment.  For most of these testers, I then followed up, wondering about their experience and what they thought of the taste of this recipe.

The truth shall now be revealed.

Of the two botanical species of coffee cultivated commercially in the world, Coffea Arabica is the one we know best, and all coffee graded and sold as “specialty coffee” in the US must be Arabica.  These coffees are typically grown at high elevations, they are picked and sorted with care, and they are often sold as they are, without being blended with lower grade coffee.

The other species is Arabica’s evil twin, Coffea Robusta, a cheaper, lower-grown variant most commonly used in low-grade blends and instant coffees. Large corporations and plantation farmers love the stuff, as Robusta plants have a much higher yield, and it can be farmed at lower elevations using mechanical picking and processing methods.  It also has significantly higher (40% or more) caffeine than Arabica, so when you encounter “TurboCoffee” at the gas station, that’s what its made of.

I confess, Espresso Experimento was composed of 15% Robusta.  I hang my head in shame.

Not really.  In Italy, where espresso is the go-to form of coffee, most blends use Robusta to promote dark, thick crema.  When Robusta is run by itself through an espresso machine, what emerges is an oozing, beautiful foam that resembles shaving cream.  It is exquisite to look at.

And to me, in its raw form, it tastes like a dank, bitter form of cough syrup. 

But this was an experiment I have wanted to try for a long time.  There are better forms of Robusta to be had (as these were), and as a big fan of espresso, I needed to understand how this species works in an espresso blend – and whether it was worthwhile to consider it as a prospect for the future. 

The verdict?  I liked the impact on the crema a lot, as it gave the shots noticeable body and thickness.  I liked that it reminded me of Italian espressos and the experience of ordering a quick shot standing at a streetside coffee bar.  I liked it in milk, as it added a certain amount of punch, especially in lattes.  I didn’t care for it as a straight shot, as it added a bitterness and astringency that was more reminiscent of a darker roasted espresso. 

And having satisfied this curiosity, I won’t use it again.  I promise. 

One last thing.  I have the sense that most people walk around with the impression that espresso is an over-roasted, thick, bitter brew that has a place in milk alone, and that, when consumed as a shot, it generates a face-puckering grimace similar to that of very cheap tequila.  Please, give good espresso a chance.  Stop by The Royal Bean, or come over to our house, and let us make you a shot of a medium-roasted espresso designed to satisfy rather than punish you.  It is such a nice a experience.

The New World of Pourover Brewing

When I went to the Coffee Fest trade show in New York a few weeks ago, one of the classes I attended was on pourover brewing techniques.  The class was led by the 2011 World Brewers Cup champion Andy Sprenger of Ceremony Coffee Roasters. 

Way back when (probably in high school, actually), my first experiences in making my own coffee made use of a funky yellow plastic Melitta filtercone, along with preground coffee from the grocery store and tap water poured from a teakettle heated on an electric stove.  I measured my coffee using one of those annoying plastic scoops that came with all coffee back then as a “free gift”.

I knew that times had changed, as I was starting to see pourover bars in more cafes, and The Royal Bean has been working with the Clever drippers since shortly after they opened four years ago. 

But, as Andy’s presentation showed, we have now advanced to a new era for this seemingly simple technique.  The simplicity of the Melitta method (which they claim to have invented, though those around the world who brew in chorreadores might take exception to that) has now given way to an astonishing array of new variations on the theme.  Materials essentially remain the same, glass, plastic and ceramic), but now new shapes for the funnels, vane patterns, hole variations and depth are leading to a cascade of exciting new possibilities.  All the rage now are brewers from Hario, Bee House and Bonmac, but the classic Chemex brewer (who used to wrap these in macramé back in the day?) is making a comeback, often in conjunction with the gorgeous Coava Kone filter. 

Then, of course is the matter of water.  Water, you see, is not just water.  It must be targeted accurately and precisely to exact regions of the bed of ground coffee to ensure the optimum cup.  And (you guessed it), old school kettles just won’t do.  Check these out from Hario, Bonavita and (if you won Megabucks last week) Takahiro. 

And the brewing water must pass through household air, which contains all kinds of toxins and adulterants, so we must control this!  The solution is a set of mid-air filters (one before the water hits the coffee and one between the filter and the cup).  These tri-phase neuro-osmosis filters ensure that the EPA will bless the air quality of your cup. 

Not really. 

Andy also gave us an interesting demonstration of how the taste of paper filters affects the flavor of your coffee.  He made two batches of what was essentially “paper filter tea”, one using standard white filters, the other unbleached filters (those made of bamboo and hemp were not included).  Each person in the room was given two blinded samples and asked to compare the tastes.  Sadly, both tasted A LOT like paper, but the stronger taste definitely came from the unbleached variation. The lesson here is to rinse your filters in hot water before you brew.

So, I came back from the show with a Bonavita kettle and a Bee House brewer, and shown at left is the rig that is now needed for me to perform the simple act of making my first cup of coffee in the morning.  I weigh the dose of coffee, then grind it to precision.  The kettle (with filtered water), boils, then rests for thirty seconds.  I place the cup with the Bee House (and the properly rinsed filter) on the scale, then start the stopwatch.  I prewet the bed of coffee for thirty seconds, then pour water in a swirling patter outward from the center, striving to maintain the crust and achieve a brew time of exactly three minutes. 

What a geek, huh?

Blonde Coffee?

So I was thinking about the new product introduction, "Blonde" coffee, from our favorite national chain, and something just didn't fit.  So I went off to my online dictionary to find out exactly what the word meant.

I found two definitions that seem like they could be applied to coffee: 1. Of a flaxen or golden color; and, 2. Light-colored through bleaching.

I will admit that I haven’t been down to their store in our town to buy a bag and see what’s inside, but in my experience, the only time coffee is “of a flaxen or golden color” is when it is not very far into the roast, as in not ready to drink.

But they are a lot bigger than me, so maybe they know something I don’t.

Then there is the possibility of bleaching, I suppose.  But gosh, who would do that to coffee?

So since the dictionary doesn’t lie, and since all advertising is true, I figured that somehow the wizards over there must be doing something to turn the coffee a flaxen or golden color.  So here is my artist’s rendering of what the stuff must look like.

Nah.  No one would buy yellow coffee, would they?  

Into the Darkness

In my fours years as a professional roaster, I have learned that coffee drinkers are creatures of habit.  Like robots, we stumble from bed to the stove or the coffeemaker, where we prepare the stimulant that launches our senses and starts our days.  For many people, the brand and style of coffee has been the same for years, as has the style of preparation and often the cup in which it is consumed. 

Among these habits is for many the standard that all coffee must be dark-roasted.  I know this habit all too well, having been nursed with a steady diet of Peets from my teens until I moved east.

But I confess now that when someone tells me they are a “dark roast drinker”, this elicits a feeling somewhat akin to pity.  I want to give that person a hug, guide them to a quiet place to rest and listen to their troubles. 

But really what I want to do is convert them to all the wonders of coffee that are out there for those who drink their coffee at a lighter roast level.  I want them to sit down in my pew, drink my kool-aid and read my little comic books about how repent and change their ways.

Perhaps I need to see someone about this?

Dark roasted coffee is ultimately a food that some prefer cooked more than others.  This puts it in the same class with well-done meat, muffin tops, dark beer, caramel, cooked carrots and braised radicchio.  It is not bad, just different. 

Starbucks has built their whole corporation around dark roasted coffee, but in large part their coffee needs to be roasted this way so that it can be detected when served with large volumes of milk. I was amused recently to see that they just introduced Starbucks Blonde, in recognition of the (by their count) more than 40% of coffee drinkers that prefer a lighter roast.  The company was founded in 1971, so it is funny that it took over forty years to come to this realization.  Let me see, 40 years times $12 billion (annual sales) times 40% (amount of lost revenue due to dissing light roast drinkers) equals roughly $192 BILLION dollars in lost money due to an obsession with dark roasted coffee.

Is it worth it, I ask you?

What is Dark Roasted Coffee?

In my roaster, there is a probe (metal rod) that extends into the swirling bed of roasting beans that gives me a digital readout of the current temperature of the coffee as it progresses through the roasting process. I use this information, along with a visual inspection of the coffee, to evaluate the coffee as it roasts and the point at which stop the process and drop the coffee into the cooling bin.  My choices of these temperatures (and visual state of the coffee) determine the “degree of roast” of the coffee in a spectrum from light to dark.

For those who know our coffees, here are examples of the numbers I see on this readout:

* 425: The preheated roaster before I put any coffee into it.

* 200: The lowest number I see during the roast process when the temperature of the room temperature coffee I added to the roaster equalizes with the heat of the roaster.

* 375: The start of the “first crack” (an expansion of the bean caused by the release of steam and CO2)

* 412: Stopping point for a light roasted coffee such as an Ethiopia Sidamo

* 418: Stopping point for medium-roasted coffees like our Honduras or Guatemala

* 428: Stopping point for our current espresso blend; “second crack” starts here (a fracturing of the cell wall of the coffee beans)

* 440: Stopping point for our Indo-Limbo French Roast

Sweet Marias provides an excellent visual guide to the roasting progression here.

The flavor dynamic dark roast lovers enjoy is that of caramelized sugar brought on by darker roast levels.  These tastes are very much analogous to those of caramel candy, which begins as white sugar and then attains a darker color as these chemical changes occur, or dark beer, where barley (or other grains) are taken to darker levels in the malting process.

The dark roasting progression also introduces mild to severe burnt tastes to the coffee, and causes the oils in the bean to rise to the surface (causing it to stale faster, by the way).  In addition, dark roasting expands the coffee a lot, so you will note that a pound of our Indo Limbo takes up a lot more space than a pound of our Honduras.

Let there be Peace

You know those Thanksgiving dinners where the turkey comes around the table on a platter, and you take a little white meat and a little dark too?  And you enjoy them both?

Well shucks, let’s do the same thing with coffee.

For you lofty light roast drinkers (um . . . myself included), give the dark side a break.  Understand that there is good dark roasted coffee to be had out there, and that, done properly, these roast levels can still reflect plenty of origin character and nuances of the coffee.  REALLY understand (please) that the term “espresso” is not synonymous with “carbon” and that light or medium roasted espresso can taste really awesome and not burnt at all. 

And those from the noir side of the aisle, you aren’t on an island, stuck there in Darkroastlandia with nowhere to turn.  There is a world of coffee out there waiting for you, if you would only give it a chance.  Don’t start your voyage off the island by drinking a delicate light roast, as you are likely to think of it as weak, tea-like or sour.  Seek out coffees with a fuller, bolder taste like a nice medium roasted Sumatra or African, and work your way down from there.  

Coffee is too great and too diverse to be polarizing.  Enjoy the ride.