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.

What a Long Strange Trip Its Been

It all came down to two feet of concrete.  The length of a simple stride on the sidewalk.  The space it takes to toss a free throw.  The distance of a good olie on a skateboard or that occupied by a newspaper rack.

The long and short of it is that the roaster is now safely home.  We can now resume the business of roasting you excellent coffee and you can now sheepishly slink back from whatever slipshod brew you have been drinking for the last two weeks.

This adventure began just in August, when Tanji and I went for a walk in a distant part of Freeport that was new to us.  We briefly entertained building a house on a lot we liked, then fled from that idea as quickly as it had started for reasons financial and otherwise.  But we still liked the neighborhood, and one night we happened on a new listing.  We came, we saw and we liked, so we went for it and they accepted our offer. 

Oh.

But what about the coffee roaster?

That’s where the lucky two feet came in.  There is a basement here, and there is room for the roaster and all the coffee and the grinder and the sealer and the rest of it.  Access is good for loading in 130-150 pound bags of coffee (though something akin to a children’s slide – to be built tomorrow – will be necessary), and the big trucks that bring the coffee can turn around down the street.  But the long and short of any roaster installation is where the smoke goes. Ideally the vent stack will be not too long and not too bent.  It’s a pretty thick pipe, so it needs clearance.  It needs to get above the roofline, and its sister pipe (from the cooling bin) needs her own path.  It cannot traverse any windows. 

We liked the house and the basement worked, but there was exactly, precisely one place and one place only to put the roaster and the stack and it was going to involve some gymnastics.

So here I was, really liking this house but stuck with the questions of how to de-install 2,000 pounds of roaster from our existing basement, slither it through a narrow doorway, move it safely across town, lower it into a below grade basement, poke two thick holes in a thick foundation wall, maneuver two vent pipes up the wall of our new house, while building out the roaster space, installing electrics and gas and dealing with many, many unknowns.

I was faced here with the situation of believing, perhaps foolishly, in the feasibility of all of this, but then being enough of a realist to know better than to be blindly ignorant of all that could go wrong.  To make this work, I needed someone with expertise in carpentry, HVAC, propane, rigging, sheet metal, electrics and plumbing.  It felt like I was trying to build a highrise. 

Enter The Amazing Mike McNeff.

Our friend Mike’s business card says “Integrity Construction,” and when I approached him about this project, I really expected him to say no, that this one was above his pay grade.  But Mike is a can-do guy who loves challenges, and much to my delight and relief, he agreed. 

He measured angles and distances.  He solicited, and immediately discarded the bunch of big guys with a dolly and a truck approach in favor of the overqualified but undoubtedly competent major crane company to lift the beast.  He stretched his mind and his patience in coming to grips with the nuances of double wall venting.  He learned about the real fun of coring concrete, then patiently spent a day dealing with the geometry of two holes in the wall.  He bobbed and wove through a sea of competing trades who all worked like dogs to do their parts of the puzzle on time and on budget.

And as of this morning, when I did my first test roast, I am happy to say that the roaster is home, and that Freeport Coffee Roasting is now ready to rumble for the holidays ahead.

A fond thank you to Mike and Dan and Mac and Jerry and Hannah and Steve and Jim and everyone else who helped to make this work so well so quickly.  And especially to Tanji who thankfully loves coffee.

The Extraordinary Service of Chris’ Coffee

A few years ago, I had the extreme good fortune to stumble on a used La Spaziale espresso machine at a very good price, and so I bought this for our home. This is an Italian-made, dual boiler (meaning the coffee and steam water heat independently) machine that is suitable for use in a small commercial operation, and making my daily shots on this every day has been a joy and a privilege.

Until a month ago.

The problem began when the ground fault circuit the machine was plugged into began tripping whenever I turned it on. Like any stupid, willful male, I then used a cheater (which bypasses the ground) to make the machine work. This fix worked just fine until one day I touched a metal surface on the machine while it was on. The resulting ZAP! was painful, and even more painful was the second zap I experienced when I touched it again to make sure.

I was out of tricks at this point, so I called the service department at Chris’ Coffee in Albany, New York. For a machine like this (think complicated and Italian made), local service isn’t an option, and Chris and his team have always had a great reputation for their knowledge, service and parts inventory, so they were my first choice.

In a twenty-minute call, their technician helped me isolate the problem to the heating element in the steam boiler, and they sent me a replacement part. A photo of the old boiler element is shown at left, and if ever a part needed replacement, this was it. Look closely, and you’ll see that the tubing is split throughout its length, exposing the electrical element underneath.

To fast forward a bit here, that part came, I installed it, and then I ran into a succession of problems getting the machine back together and working. These adventures culminated the other day in the snapping off of a very small threaded fitting on a valve, leaving me with a vexing problem that I lacked the tools or knowhow to resolve. The machine is now on its way to Chris’ Coffee for repair of that problem and a general overhaul that will hopefully keep me problem-free for years to come.

My experience with Chris’ over the last two weeks has caused me to reflect on the rarity of great customer service in our world today – and what being good at this will do for Chris’ business, and being bad at it will do for others.

In the last three weeks, I have called the service department there ten times, as they graciously walked me through repairs to my machine. Every person I spoke with was polite, gracious and patient, and clearly the most important thing to each of them in those moments was helping me through my problem. Secondary in those calls was their other work, making commission, their text messages or their personal problems. I, their customer, came first.

In the course of these calls, they sold me three small parts. Not a lot of profit. But they reinforced their steadfast reputation as the provider of the best service in this industry. As a customer, I left these calls absolutely devoted to them, and I will never take my business anywhere else. When someone wants a recommendation as to where to buy an espresso machine or a grinder, that’s where I send them. And when I talk in casual conversation about great customer service, they are one of the two companies (along with Apple Computer), I will use as an example.

So for the owner, Chris Nachtrieb, fostering this commitment to service has the effect of selling more products and services to me (into perpetuity), and enlisting me as an ambassador to promote his business to others. And judging by the literally hundreds of posts in the online coffee forums that sing his praises, this commitment has been longstanding and consistent.

Let’s look at the flipside.

About three months ago, a friend of mine walked into a local bike shop to buy a small part. He knew the owner of the shop and the employee working behind the counter. When the part, which cost less than $10 was rung up on the register, my friend wondered why the price was so high, and why he hadn’t received his typical discount as a member of a local cycling club. The response was that this shop didn’t offer that discount anymore and that the price stuck. This was delivered with a dismissive attitude that said that this single customer wasn’t important and that helping to support the community by offering a very small discount to members of a non-profit trail advocacy organization wasn’t something they wanted to do anymore.

Since my friend’s experience, I’ve heard this incident mentioned by at least ten people, and its been discussed in conversations with large groups, so I know many more have heard the story. The reputation of this shop has plummeted, both in terms of individual customer service, and as a member of our community. They have lost sales and they have lost customers, and instead of having people go through the community raving about them (as I do Chris’ Coffee), the same people scorn them.

I don’t think it;s worth it. If we treat our customers with grace and respect, they’ll come back and they will spread the word. And if we don’t they won’t, and their business will go somewhere else.

Something to think about.

Affogato at The Royal Bean!

So just imagine . . . a cappucino cup, with a scoop of espresso chip gelato, then topped off with a double shot and served with a spoon. How fun is that? It actually has a name - the Affogato - and you can order yours today with the tasty Gelato Fiasco now available at The Royal Bean. Hurry.