How Bitter the Tale of Love

How Bitter the Tale of Love

I love history. I also love coffee.

A few months ago, these two things collided, and since then, I’ve been obsessed.

I’d never really thought about coffee as anything more than a drink. Occasionally, one that I took seriously: carefully brewing myself a delicious coffee, using freshly ground beans and meticulously measured out ingredients. More often than not, however, I treated it as a commodity. A quick drink to get me going in the morning.?

Confession—I would often drink instant coffee. Yes, I know that to the purists, this is a sin; one that I must be brave—or foolish—to announce to the world. But it’s the truth. And, honestly, I never really considered it to be the same thing as a coffee made from freshly ground coffee beans.

The conversion

Then, the stars aligned. I heard someone called Cemal Kafadar tell the story of the origins and impact of coffee. For those of you who don’t know who this is (I didn’t), Kafadar is the Professor of Turkish Studies at Harvard.?

His astonishingly titled paper, “How Dark is the History of the Night, How Black the Story of Coffee, How Bitter the Tale of Love” was a shot in the arm (a shot of espresso, perhaps) for what would become a bitter love affair of my own – coffee and its place in history.

Coffee changed the world. To some degree, its arrival heralds the beginning of modernity. With coffee, no more were humans bound to the natural cycles of day and night. The coffee shop came next, quickly becoming a hub of politics, science, and free thought. Then came the European Enlightenment, and with it: the modern world.

I needed some coffee.

So I did what anyone would do in my predicament – I went to buy myself an expensive coffee. There’s a lovely independent coffee shop down the road from where I live. The perfect place to go.?

I ordered a black coffee – no sugar – and sat down.

Alas.?

Coffee is a commodity now?

The café, however lovely, no longer felt the same. Where was the ritual, the deep conversation, the free, revolutionary thought that I’d been reading about? I wanted more.?

I began to wonder what coffee used to taste like. What was the original product that transformed the world??

I started to research. Ethiopian, lightly roasted, seemed to be the consensus. Turkish coffee style brewing. Great. Now to buy some.

Dark roast. Strong blend. Medium to dark espresso roast, single origin.

Damn.?

A journey of discovery

Undeterred, I bought myself a coffee bean roaster, and sourced myself some fresh, un-roasted, green Ethiopian Yirgacheffe beans. Once I get an itch, you see, I need to scratch it. I bought books. Lots of books. I spent weeks learning the ins and outs of coffee roasting – the first crack, the temperature spike, how to cool and de-gas it, and so on. I made countless terrible batches of coffee – some so bitter it was like drinking ink, some so earthy it was like drinking mud from a well-trodden path. And then I cracked it.

Delicious Ethiopian coffee, lightly roasted, high in caffeine. And boy, was it good.?

You see, we have a tendency to over-roast coffee these days. Have a look next time you go to the coffee aisle in a supermarket – dark roast rules the shelves.?

But this isn’t how coffee is meant to be. This is commodity coffee – cheap, poor quality, and over-roasted.

I’ve not gone back. I still drink the coffee that I’ve sourced myself. And soon, you’ll be able to, too.

I’m working on something – working on bringing back exceptional, perfectly roasted, high-quality coffee. Coffee that’s true to its origins – steeped in history before you steep it in water.

Watch this space.

P.S. If you’re as curious as I was, and want a totally free taste, let me know.