You may have seen the poll I recently posted to the blog asking you to make a choice between two hypothetical cups of coffee. In essence asking if you would prefer to drink an average coffee (ie rated on green quality) that was roasted to show it at it’s best, or a really excellent coffee that was given an average roast, showing it at less than it’s best. While a little confusion and debate lingered over what exactly a 90 point roast would be, in no small part fuelled by the honourable Mr Cho’s mischief (I love you really Nick), a clear winner emerged in the vote. You chose the average coffee that was given a really excellent roast.

So would I for what it’s worth.

I didn’t want to pad the question with too much detail, for fear of leading the answers, but when I was originally thinking about this question, I envisaged the average roast to be one that was certainly drinkable, though regardless of level perhaps had a discernible roast characteristic, perhaps was a little flat or muted, and in general didn’t highlight the best qualities of the coffee. The really great roast for me is most often the one that you don’t notice the roast, just the coffee. Sometimes I like to comment that these seems as if the beans had grown on the tree already roasted. I say this again without allusion to the level of roast (within reason).

Green quality is constantly improving due to advancements and refinements in growing, harvesting, processing and even shipping. One could argue that green quality has improved (when looked at quite broadly) at a rate exceeding that of roast quality. The ratio of 90+ point coffees to roasters of comparable quality seems to be dropping year on year.

In the discussion that followed the poll a theme emerged of the quality of roast being a personal choice or preference, or even a geographical trait. One man’s 90 point roast, might be another man’s 80 point roast. While this wasn’t in my original thoughts, I do accept that it would probably seem to be more difficult to come to a consensus on a roast score than on a coffee score. Unquestionably there will be many opinions on what the best roast of a certain coffee would be, but I would hope we can all identify a roast of high quality.

Roast level (as opposed to roast quality) can be looked at as having regional idiosyncrasies. We could look at the differences between a typical Norwegian roast and a typical US roast and maybe draw some conclusions, perhaps tainted by our personal preferences. We can paint with broad brush strokes saying that US roasters burn the arse out of their coffee, or that the Scandanavians merely leave the coffee out in the sun for a short period of time to reach their desired level. This is of course bollox of the highest order. Roast level only says so much, an Agtron machine cannot tell you how good a coffee tastes, whether it has been tipped, scorched, baked or otherwise befuddled.

I’m probably not ever going to be fan of coffees roasted past a certain level, but I can appreciate a good roast that spans a reasonably broad range. I could envisage there being several 90 point roast interpretations of a given coffee.

There will be more excellent coffees grown this year, than I could possibly drink, or will even have the opportunity to drink, and some of the most expensive, most coveted lots will be roasted carelessly. This happens, a lot, I’ve drank them. It sucks. I guess this was my point leading into the question. I’m glad to find myself in agreement with a majority. Kudos to you dear readers, kudos.

Oh dear. I was involved in a bit of a Twitter kerfuffle over the last week. I think the Twitter medium compounded the agro, the limitations of Twitter really stifle any serious discussion or elaboration of points. Everything ends up being a soundbite. A little bit of hastiness on my part didn’t help either, in fairness. I think, and hope this post might add some clarity to the points I was trying to make.

It all started with Karl Purdy asking for suggestions for some “epiphany” coffees to present to some willing local journalists. The idea was to show them what flavours are possible in coffee, what the highest level of speciality coffee is like, and to promote some discussion in the yet developing Irish coffee community. He had done a somewhat impromtu tasting of Hasbean’s Wahana trilogy with some journalists, wine experts and some local enthusiasts and the feedback was really positive. Suggestions came back, Tekangu from Tim Wendelboe, Esmeralda from The Coffee Collective, and I offered to swap a bag of my recently ordered Guji from Supreme Roastworks in exchange for piggy-backing the TW and TCC orders.

When the coffees arrived, I was really quite shocked to find the Esmeralda from The Coffee Collective was almost two weeks post roast when it was shipped, and already about 9 days old on the day we ordered it. The Esmeralda was by far the most expensive coffee, €34 a bag when shipping was included (250g bag). I’ve ordered coffees from dozens of international roasters over the past couple of years, and this was by far the oldest a coffee has ever been shipped to me. The fact that it was also one of the more expensive, made it doubly disappointing.The other coffees were shipped the day or the day after they were roasted.

So I had a minor case of verbal premature ejaculation on twitter. On reflection, I was too quick to express my disappointment. Karl got in contact with Peter Dupont from TCC, whose one line response at being informed of our disappointment was “have you tasted it?”. The conversation evolved into an explanation that (a) Peter believed the coffee would be at it’s best 2-3 weeks post roast (!!!) and (b) they nitrogen flush their coffee, which prolongs the shelf life. I had tasted it, I brewed some the day it arrived. It was pretty good. Two days later, however, it was starting to taste relatively flat, muted and dull. This is consistent with my experiences of nitrogen flushing, once the bag remains sealed, the preservation appears to work very well. Once opened, perhaps there is a tendency to deteriorate much faster.

In any case, as a customer, I want to receive the coffee as soon as possible from roast date. It allows me the biggest possible window of enjoyment, of experiencing the most the coffee has to offer. I generally have anything from 3-8 different coffees on the go at any one time, 250g might last two weeks in my rotation. I don’t want to have to consume it all in 2 days, for fear of missing the peak flavours.

Of course, as pointed out by Rasmus Helgebostad, and confirmed by Klaus Thomsen, the Coffee Collective just don’t have the volume of Esmerelda sales to roast that coffee more than once every two weeks. That is a commercial / practical reality and I understand and appreciate that. There is an easy solution, however. Terroir, the excellent Massachusetts based roaster, George Howell’s company, have what they call limited edition roasts. On their website, they publish when these coffees will next be roasted. If you order one, it won’t be roasted and shipped until that date. Everyone’s happy.

To be completely honest, from the caliber of roasters I typically order from, I would be surprised to be sent anything more than a day post-roast. 99% of the coffees I have received in the last couple of years have conformed to this. I think it’s an expectation, a minimum expectation of modern speciality roasters. If it’s not going to be the case, it should be abundantly clear – especially for a coffee of that price.

Anyway, the purpose of this wasn’t to try to besmirch The Coffee Collective. I wouldn’t have spent the €34 if I didn’t have faith in their abilities. Between them, Klaus, Peter, Casper and Linus, have a colossal, enviable assembly of knowledge and skills. I remember greedily scavenging a bag of their Aricha competition espresso at the WBC in Atlanta. I brewed every last bean. It was superb. I get the impression that wholesale business is their mainstay, perhaps online retail sales just fit in around that…

Somewhat related to all this is a thought that has been rattling around in my head for a little while. It is to do with criticism within the coffee community, or more to the point, the lack thereof. It’s very easy to say when something is great, you see that a lot, but very often when things aren’t at their best, people tend to go quiet (speaking generally here). They tip toe around the subject, perhaps privately confiding their impressions. I don’t necessarily think it’s a healthy attitude. The “one big happy family” thing is nice, but it’s not helping raise standards and consistency. That leaves us with enthusiast community criticisms, which can be fleeting, contradictory and often have a low signal to noise ratio, and the near uniformly positive CoffeeReview. Honestly, I don’t see this changing in the short term, but in other comparable industries (wine, whiskey, beer) there are abundant sources of relevant, detailed, critical reviews. Are people in these industries always at one another’s throats? Do we need a new class of individuals in the coffee community, between consumer and industry? Or does it matter?

Anyway, away from these thoughts, on a happier note, the Tekangu we had is probably the best coffee I’ve had all year. In a year of amazing Kenyans (Tegu, Kanjathi, Gethumbwini, Ngunguru to name but a few), this one somehow managed to peek out above the rest. Paul Stack described it best, saying it was like opening a jar of jam (fruits of the forest I’d say). If last year was the year of the Ethiopian Natural (it certainly was for me), this has to be the year of the Kenyan.

I wholeheartedly recommend anyone who is yet to try it, order a bag, while it’s still around. You won’t regret it.

http://webshop.timwendelboe.no/

So many stale coffees.

I remember when I started blogging, the idea was to be very Irish consumer-centric, to see what was available locally, and to judge it in that context. On a monthly basis, however, I buy no coffee in Ireland, not a single bag. I have Square Mile and Hasbean monthly subscriptions, and I tend to top those up with a few more bags of beans over the course of the month. Sometimes these come from the UK, sometimes from Scandanavia, Canada or the US. It’s not cheap. Our intermittant group-buys on boards.ie do help with combined shipping costs, but nonethless, I shudder to think how much I’ve spent on coffee (and shipping) in the last year.

Something has been resonating in my mind since the Brewmaster course early this year. It was that, the Gold Cup standard isn’t about coffee quality per se, but about brew quality. The point being you can have the dirtiest, defect ridden coffee, but if you brew it to the standard it can still be Gold Cup. That may sound extreme, but it made me want to revisit readily available, preground, consumer coffee, available locally, and brew it to Gold Cup standard. I decided to approach this with a completely open mind.

Robert's Costa Rican.

So I popped round to my local Superquinn to see what was on offer. I purposely tried to avoid anything that I thought I would definitely hate, anything marked extra bold, or dark, or anything particularly high on that somewhat arbitrary and apparently ubiquotous “strength” number scale. Of course by coffee strength, they mean how dark it is roasted, and I guess how heavy the roast notes are in the cup. Coffee strength in reality is entirely dependent on the brewing process, on the ratio of coffee to water, and on the amount extracted. Anyway, I left Superquinn €30 lighter.

First up was Robert Roberts Costa Rica, which is sourced from the Tarrazu region, and is Rainforest Alliance Certified. At least I knew no frogs would be harmed. The back of the bag proclaims that the beans are slowly roasted to unlock the delicate aromas and flavours. The bag smelled really caramel/toffee sweet on the outside. I was positively optimistic. Opening the bag, those sweet sugars were joined by some earthy and woody notes. The bag states the grind is suitable for all types of coffee makers. To my experience the coarseness looks like a French Press grind. I would also say that the grind looked very even.

It wouldn't stand up on its own. Hence my hand.

I brewed as follows (for all coffees, adjusting brew time if my TDS reading was off). I boiled my kettle and preheated a small Bodum Colombia French Press. Using a thermocouple, I waited for the brew water to reach 94C. I dumped the preheat water, added 20g of coffee to the press, and then added 300ml water. I replaced the press lid, and depressed the plunger slightly to submerge all the grinds. At 4 minutes I plunged, then passed the coffee through a prewashed melitta filter. It’s a bit of a contrived brewing method, but the double walled Bodum provides better brew temp stability, while the paper eliminates non-dissolved solids which would interfere with my TDS meter (and also provides a nice clean cup).

I found the mouthfeel on the Costa Rican quite pleasing, and some of those caramel notes did come through. Roast notes were present but minor, and some brighter, zippy notes also came through. It wasn’t particularly earthy or dirty at all, but there was a kind of pine wood note that came through quite strong. Not my favourite kind of flavour in coffee, but not offensive. All in all, I enjoyed my cup of Costa Rica.

Synaesthesia says more purple for this one. Blue bag confusing.

Next up was Cafe Direct’s Yirgacheffe. On the shelf it looked the most apealing of the group to me. I’m quite fond of  Yirgacheffe as a coffee (both washed and natural) growing region. At home I realised it was the bag whose best before date would lapse the soonest (a mere month away). This meant the coffee was probably close to or more than a year. Nontheless I was somewhat releaved to get some of those familiar Yirg aromas on opening the bag: grapefruit, jasmine tea, floral notes. Again, the grind was marketed at cafetiere (french press) and filter, but to me looked more the former, and again, appeared very even. In the cup there was an upfront citrus, hints of floral notes, and a pretty light, typical Yirg mouthfeel. It felt a bit dead in the cup, I could tell there was more in there, but it seemed a little flat and tired. It wasn’t terrible, and I would drink it, but I was left wondering how good it could have been.

Sticking with Africa, next up was Bewley’s Kenya, from the Nyeri region, promising ripe berries and citrus fruits. This one was mercifully far away from its roast date, though still I suspect a couple of month’s old. The berries and the citrus were defintely in the cup. As a Kenyan, it wasn’t a big bold blackcurrant, like a Gethumbwini, rather that kind of Kenyan/Yirg hybrid that is a little more nuanced, more grapefruit, more blackberry. I’ve had quite a few Kenyans this year, and it seems to have been a really good year for Kenyan crops, at least in terms of the quality I’ve seen. While the Bewley’s one is very palatable, it didn’t compare in terms of explicit fruit notes to any of the Hasbean or Square Mile Kenyans I’d had this year. It was a Kenyan, with the volume turned down a bit.

A lot of marketing ideas went into this bag.

Java Republic’s Sumatra Blue, a blend containing 40% Brazilian Bourbon, 40% Sumatra Lingtong, and 20% Costa Rica Tarrazu, was next up. This bag had a roast date, and even time, which is nice, it was still a couple of month’s old, which is not great, but kudos for putting the date on there. The bag also contained a really hefty amount of pseudo-technical marketing nonsense, like their 21 minute slow roast, and gimmicks like the Great Taste Award badge. This was ground to a french press specific grind (not omni-grind), and was evidenced by slightly less resistance on the plunge. Most people who know me well, probably know I’m not a huge fan of Asian origin coffees as a generality. I do in fact know people in the speciality coffee world who use Lingtong as a dirty word. This was kinda woody, like the Robt Roberts Tarazzu, it’s sweetness diminished by some lingering roast notes, that finished a little bitter. Overall it’s pretty balanced, but of all the coffees to this point it was the one that was most starting to taste like a generic coffee, as if the individual flavours were blended or roasted out (this was a 4 on the roast scale – the darkest I bought).

Purple is correct.

The Tanzania Kilimanjaro from Cafe Direct kind of reminded me of a mediocre Kenyan. The blackcurrant was pretty tame, and the promised vanilla overtones I’d find closer to a wood polish, and there’s a real roast finish. The aftertaste was bitter. There was a nice balance of acidity, but the aftertaste makes this a bit unpleasant. Had high hopes for this one.

Lastly Bewley’s Guatemala, promising a unique taste with a spicy twist. This was probably the one I had most difficulty with. The cup is dominated by a kind of green, uncooked bramley apple acidity, and a kind of buttery mouthfeel. For me this became quite cloying very quickly. Added to that, there was a lingering note that was distinctly vegetal. Synaestehisa, the phenomenon of associating perceptions from one of the senses with those obtained from another sense, ie associating a colour with a particular taste really applies with this coffee for me. This coffee just screams “green”.

Green is correct, unfortunately.

Some good experiences and some not so good experiences, but if there’s an overall theme to emerge from all this, it is that with precise brewing you can get tasty cups of coffee, that can reflect a terroir, from something at which many coffee snobs, myself included, would upturn their nose. I don’t think it’s any great news to people that preground coffee loses its vibrancy, becomes flatter, staler than it’s freshly ground equivalent. You could tell that in a number of cases here. I think with the a lot of care you can make a pretty decent cup of coffee from some preground coffee. When I show the same amount of care with more expensive speciality/whole bean/fresh coffee I routinely make better, more interesting cups. However, when I become casual, take less care with my dose, grind, water temperature, brew time, I’m usually rewarded with an average to pretty poor cup, often worse than the carefully brewed preground stuff.

Good quality, freshly roasted coffee is a crutch in a way. Without deviating from whatever brewing technique you use, you can produce better tasting coffee, typically by spending more, buying fresher, buying from good roasters. It’s a bit like the Irish Government during the Celtic Tiger era: if there was a problem, the solution was to throw money at it until it went away.  I don’t think most of us are doing coffee at any level justice. It perhaps exaggerates the deficiencies of preground, yet still leaves us occassionaly dissapointed by our higher grade choices. The platitude goes: if you want to produce good coffee at home, the first thing you need is a decent burr grinder. I’m starting to think that the first things should be a thermometer, scales, and a TDS meter.

I’ll leave you with a question:

Excellently brewed, preground, middle of the road quality coffee OR poorly brewed, fresh, top quality coffee?

Fruits of Paradise

Here’s the hypothesis: Robusta isn’t inherently crap. If grown and processed with the same level of care and attention typical of speciality coffees, you can arrive at a superior robusta, one that could be drank on its own, without revulsion. I know that in some quarters, Kenneth Davids of CoffeeReview.com has lost credibility in recent times, awarding high scores to espresso pods and favouring stale Italian espresso blends over high end US ones. Nonetheless, when he awarded a score of 94 to India Sitara, a single origin Robusta espresso from Paradise Roasters, I took notice. Even if you discount the hyperbole in the review, and don’t expect the fruit and flowers, even if you accuse him of exaggerating, I wondered could you still be left with a palatable Robusta? Paradise Roasters no longer offer the India Sitara, but it has been replaced by another coffee from the same estate, Indian CxR. The name CxR denotes a hybrid species, a cross between Congo coffee (Coffea congensis) and Robusta cofee (Coffea canephora), and again is offered as a single origin espresso (this time, however, scoring a measly 90 on CR).

I took the plunge, ordering the CxR along with another espresso blend, the HomeBarista.com 2009 MVP Blend (this has its own backstory), and an Ethiopian natural – Awassa Special Prep. They arrived to me, in Ireland, 6 days post-roast, which is pretty good (especially as I took advantage of a free shipping offer which has subsequently been limited to domestic orders).

Genetic relationship between various coffee species (and some hybrids). Taken from Ruas et al., (2003). The hybrids aren't relevant here, just to note that C. congensis is most closely related to C. canephora.

Curiosity won, so the CxR went straight into the hopper. The grind that emerged was kind of sandy, in both colour and granularity. There was much less clumping than I’d normally find with this grinder, and the grinds settled evenly and densely in the portafilter. I had to set the grind somewhat finer than typical espresso blends I use, but not extraordinarily so. The smell of the dry grinds was slightly offensive, having something ashtray / onion / celery / vegetal in there. The first shot that emerged looking drinkable looked incredible in the cup. The crema was reminiscent of the stuff I’d seen in Caffe Sant Eustachio in Rome (is that the “secret”? 100% Robusta?), like stiff peak beaten egg whites. The initial pour receded quickly from 1.5oz to a scant 1oz.

Then came the taste. It wasn’t bad, enormous body unsurprisingly, but there was also some chocolate in there, a sweetness, some resinous woody notes, and a growing but acceptable, lingering bitterness. I wasn’t in love, but it was certainly far nicer than my only prior experience of a shot of 100% robusta, and it was also nicer than some pretty average espresso blends I’d had. In milk it wasn’t as nice, still drinkable, but I think the pleasing impact of the body in the espresso, and also some of the pleasant flavours, kind of diminished. The reisnous, woody flavour shone through, but it’s not a taste I like in milk. Also worth noting was that pouring latte art into this crema gave peculiar results (see the rudimentary video for an example). The crema seems to have pockets of varying densities around which the milk distorts.

*Having some issues with Vimeo at the moment, so this is temporarily hosted elsewhere* Resolved

Looking at Indian CxR (Robusta Hybrid) from The Other Black Stuff on Vimeo.

The HomeBarista.com MVP Espresso 2009 is the product of a competition held on that very fine forum (details here). The winner (sweaner) got to collaborate with Paradise Roasters to create a blend profile, which would go through a few iterations before a final one was picked. In keeping with the brew suggestions, I held off tasting the HB MVP blend till day 7 post-roast.

Left to right: MVP / CxR / Awassa

First impressions with the MVP, (pulled a bit tight): sticky, upfront sweet, fading into a pronounced bitterness, roasty notes, earthy, a little muddy, fruit very much in the background, little acidity. The beans looked maybe a hair darker than the Robusta, and there were also some ugly beans in there. Loosening the grind a little, the acidity emerged, I still wouldn’t call it bright, but it brought some balance to the cup, it became somewhat jammier, though still for me, a little dirty / dusty. I suspected the Sumatran was making it’s presence felt, pushing leather / tobacco type flavours to the fore, or perhaps the Ethiopians weren’t the cleanest. It was these flavours, along with a little milk choc, and toasted nut that seemed to carry through in milk. I wouldn’t say it was great in milk, but it was reasonably pleasant.

Awassa in the cupping bowl.

On to the Awassa. A similar, perhaps slightly lighter roast to the espresso blends, like the MVP there were a few ugly beans in here too, though not as many. It strikes me as odd that the Robusta seems to have been the one with the highest level of quality control / sorting. Dry grinds didn’t smell of much. As soon as they were wetted though, a huge rush of sweet fruit, peach, strawberry burst out, as well as something a bit oaty too. In the cup those flavours carried through, the sweetness was somewhat abated by a bitter choc, and a winey, slightly wild element. Lots of yellow fruit though, peaches, apricots, heading in the direction of perfumed. Not quite as good as some of the Aricha / Beloya / Wellega lots of the last year, but it’s in that ball-park.

How to wrap this up then? The robusta was as good as I could have realistically hoped, it was drinkable. Perhaps it’s a bit of a novelty, a bit of a gimmick. I probably wouldn’t rush to have a regular supply of it, but I can see a point in using a robusta like this as a blend component for espresso (as opposed to the typical burnt rubber stinky robusta). The MVP blend disappointed a little, though I still think it was a fun project, and hope it continues to evolve. The Awassa, I’d have no hesitations in drinking again. Of course, I am a sucker for fruity Ethiopian Naturals, so that was always a likely outcome.

Over and out.

Boutique specialist roaster.

I’ve been meaning to order coffee from James Gourmet Coffee (from hereon JGC) for some time. Someone mentioned blueberry notes in their Formula 6 espresso blend, and I thought, “Yep, that’s for me”. Unfortunately their online ordering system is limited to the UK (for now), so I just left it be. Time passed and other coffees came and went, then a few weeks ago, I was reminded via a twitter post of their existence. I checked their website again, and started getting really excited about some of their coffees. It’s quite an eclectic selection, and there are quite a few interesting choices beyond the usual suspects, and a particularly notable strong showing of Ethiopian coffees (not to mention an unusual selection from Pitcairn of all places). So I dropped them a mail, a quick back and forth and one phone call later, 1kg of coffee was to be roasted and sent the following day.

The line up, from left, Sidamo, Idido, AECAR, Kalosi.

What did I order? One bag of Ethipiopian Idido Misty Valley, one bag of Ethiopian Sidamo Natural (Operation Cherry Red), and two bags of the Formula 6 espresso blend. What did I receive? The above plus two small samples of Sulawesi Kalosi and Bolivian AECAR. I always love it when a roaster packs in some extras into an order, especially when it’s coffee. It’s by no means necessary, but it demonstrates a desire to communicate, like a chef who wants to tantalize his diners by offering amuse bouche between courses. It’s about engaging the audience.

The Bolivian and Sulawesi also offered a little contrast in the tasting. I’ll be the first to admit, I’m a bit hung up on the Ethiopian Naturals at the minute, my purchasing hand (right hand by the way) is instinctively drawn to them. I’ve had a couple of Sidamos over the past year, the best of which was probably the offering from Coffee Angel here in Ireland, which was a very up front, sweet blueberry number. JGC’s Sidamo was more complex than that, blueberry was definitely apparent on the nose and in the cup, but moreso were strawberry and raspberry notes. This trio of berries hits you first, an aroma of oats, followed by a sweet milk chocolate middle note, finishing with a combination of acidity and bitterness that is very grapefruit. This Sidamo is the result of a program called Operation Cherry Red, which broadly involves small lots of coffee, produced from only fully ripened “red” cherries, delivering a better product, and receiving a better price. On the basis of this sample, the quality end of that equation is certainly being met.

The Idido Misty Valley, almost ready to taste.

The Idido Misty Valley, from the Yirgacheffe region, was next up. The aroma was dried fruit (raisins / figs) with some floral touches, not sure exactly which flowers, but it was quite perfumed. In the cup, I was hit by a honey note, it’s not the most prominent flavour in the cup, but honey is very distinctive, so it jumped out. The overriding flavour to me was of cherries, sweet, like a dessert wine, and for some reason it was reminiscent of Red Bull (if anyone knows the flavour combinations in Red Bull, please let me know). Very nice balance of sweetness and acidity overall though. This would shade the Sidamo for me, as a fan of Ethiopian Naturals.

My messy tasting notes and spoon.

I don’t drink enough coffee from Indonesia and Asia in general. There have been some bad experiences, some dirty, harsh, abrasive experiences. The Kalosi though is a an example of a good coffee from this part of the world. From a contrast point of view, you need to employ quite a different vocabulary set to those you’d use describing the the previous two coffees. The aroma of the ground coffee was big on spice, wood, chocolate, earth and leather. I don’t all too often pick up leather in coffee, but like the honey in the Idido this jumped out. Again in the cup the leather was there, I don’t know what leather tastes like, but this was the taste of the smell of leather, if that makes any sense. In the mix also were some nice balanced chocolate and plenty of spicy notes. It was low on acidity, though it had enough to balance the cup, and it had body in spades. It was a little earthy, pleasantly so, though, nowhere near dirty. This coffee exceeded my expectations more than the others, partly because they were low to begin with, but also because, yeah, it was good.

I had absolutely no expectations from the Bolivian, having never come across it before. There certainly weren’t as many big aromas jumping out, a bit oaty and hazelnutty on the dry grounds. In the cup there was a great balance of caramel sweetness and a gentle acidity. Very little in the way of bitterness, totally quaffable, and a body that just goes on and on and on. I wasn’t expecting this kind of body, it struck me even more than the Sulawesi, which would be expected to have a lot of body. The Bolivian is a very pleasing coffee, without doing anything wacky (probably not the best term to use – but you know what I mean). It’s a coffee that tastes like coffee, but a very nice, sweet and balanced one. Sweet, balanced and body, would sum it up in 3 words for me.

Formula 6 espresso.

On to the espresso. Shots were pulled around the 18g / 30s / 94C / 40-50ml mark. Cappas / milk drinks were 5-6oz drinks with one of these shots (so you could I suppose call it a double strength cappa). The espresso was different to what I expected. Up front there is a real whack of juicy acidity, and you think, this shot is going to be super bright, then a big deep chocolate note, from the other end of the spectrum comes in, and the cup changes completely, add into this hints of fruit, that never became as explicit as I hoped in the espresso, or as evidenced by the wafts of blueberry coming from the grinder as the shots were ground. Once you add milk to the equation though the blueberry appears, big time. It’s quite a fun espresso blend, playful, sweet, lots of body. I really enjoyed it.

Formula 6 - espresso and cappa.

To balance this love affair a little, I will say that the Ethiopians were perhaps not as agressively sweet and fruity as some of the Aricha / Beloya / Wellega lots of the past year, these are different, there’s a winey element, maybe reflecting a somewhat wilder processing. The Idido in particular though, emerges well from this contrast, being really good, in a different way. The Kalosi, despite exceeding my expectations, would probably be my last pick (personal preference), while the Bolivian just leaves a smile on my face. Despite the online ordering system not taking orders from outside the UK, I was somewhat glad of the extra effort, of sending those couple of emails, of making that phone call. JGC to me, seems quite a personal operation, friendly and passionate. It’s quite obvious also that a lot of care went into choosing and roasting those coffees. Shipping costs for those of us this side of the Irish Sea at £5 (for 1kg), especially with the current exchange rate are brilliant. In the end, though, I was not left dissapointed by JGC. I’d have no reservations in recommending trying them out, and I’ll definitely be back for more.

2008 - a year of stunning coffee (image stolen from Supreme Roastworks Flickr)

What a year for coffee 2008 was! I’ve had stunning cups throughout the year, and could probably list 20 or 30 coffees I really liked. I tried to limit myself to coffees I spent a little bit of time with, that I could go back and try again, not just one off tastes. Looking through the list, and the top 3 in particular, it’s easy enough to tell I really like the Ethiopian natural processed coffees. These coffees have changed my expectations to a certain degree about what flavours are possible in coffee, but they’ve also allowed me a better appreciation for the qualities that other processing methods can bring. I expect 2009 to be even better.

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all those coffee people who I’ve spoken to and done things with over the past year, it’s been a great learning experience for me, and I draw great encouragement from the communities here in Ireland, in the UK, and further afield. Coffee largely retains an egalitarian inclusive community spirit, long may it continue.

I tend to harp on a bit in many of these posts, but my harping will be kept to a minimum here. This is intended to be little more than a list.

I will make the disclaimer though that I only had the opportunity to try so much coffee this year, this is by no means an all encompassing state of the (coffee) nation type post, merely an acknowledgment of the coffees I enjoyed the most, in my little corner of the world over the past 12 months.

1. Wellega 2

I waxed lyrical about some coffees from Supreme Roastworks in a previous post. The Wellega, is yet another coffee from Supreme Roastworks, and another Ethiopian natural processed. Tropical fruit punch is probably the best descriptor, it’s an intensely sweet coffee, you could almost be forgiven for thinking sugar was added. Pineapple, strawberry, mango can all be easily identified. Nice balanced acidity, great body. The sheer intensity of the fruit flavours, and the sweetness in the Wellega made it my number one in a year of stellar Ethiopian naturals.

2. Beloya 3

This one came all the way from 49th Parallel in Canada, and again is an Ethiopian Natural Processed. It was a very close call between this and the Wellega I chose as my favourite. The Beloya reminded me of Strawberries and cream, there are other flavours in there but, to me it is the most blatant Strawberry flavour I’ve ever gotten from a coffee, and the first time with any assurity I could say – yes – cream (and vanilla cream at that)! There has been some online comment debating whether this Beloya or 49th’s other Ethiopian natural, Aricha 33, was better. For the record, having had both, my money’s on the Beloya.

3. Aricha 17

Yes, you get the picture, an Ethiopian natural processed (from Supreme in Norway). I tried this for the first time before I got my hands on the Wellega or Beloya, both on it’s own and in an espresso blend. Both were superb, bursting with a sweet blueberry flavour, and the espresso is my most memorable of the year (for the right reasons). This coffee made me use my 8-cup french press as a single serving brewer, and I had to dig out an old Starbucks Venti mug I *acquired* some years back to fit it all in one cup. The second time I tried this quite recently, either in my mind or in reality, the flavours were a little less intense, though still superb.

4. Esmeralda Geisha Lot 8

This coffee came from Terroir in Massachusetts. I had big expectations for my first taste of Geisha, and I was left seeing the point, without quite seeing God. Intensely floral, very tea-like, lots of peach and apricot flavours. Of the two Geisha lots I tasted from this year’s crop, this was the better, though I suspect the $95 bags that Stumptown bought may be worth a sampling (remortgaging in negotiations).

5. Santa Rita Natural

I’ve enjoyed so many of the Square Mile Coffees since their webshop went live, and for the sake of spreading the love, I could have chosen one of the coffees that wasn’t also a natural processed, but the truth is, more than any other Square Mile coffee, I’ve went back and reordered Santa Rita Natural time and time again. Very apricoty, sweet, kind of tea-like qualities again, though not as pronounced as the Geisha. The fact that this is from El Salvador and not Ethiopia makes it all the more remarkable.

6. Brazil Fazenda Cachoeira

A very different coffee from the rest of the coffees here, but it is also one I’ve gotten huge pleasure from, bought as greens from Hasbean, this was my best home roasted coffee of the year. That’s right – home roasted. I didn’t have any professionally roasted Cachoeira this year (though it did feature prominently in some espresso blends), no doubt that may have been even more impressive. In both filter and espresso it shines, chocolaty, nutty, sweet. I generally like prominent acidity in filter coffee (see above), but Cachoeira isn’t really about the acidity. What I love to do is make up a french press, take a big swig, and then exhale through my nose, the sensation, the aroma, it’s intoxicating.

Best Espresso
I thought about Black Cat circa June, though the profile has changed several times in the meantime, and I’ve not found it as much to my taste since. The Square Mile Winter Blend and the now replaced Flat White blend really excited me as well, and obviously the Aricha laden blend from Supreme. But if I was to pick one espresso I had this year to have in my grinder all year round it would be Joe’s (The Art of Coffee) Barrington Gold blend – a great rounded, sweet cup, with the most incredible mouthfeel and crema (I’ve never had anything like the crema on this before or since). I hadn’t even heard of Barrington roasters when I got a present of a bag of this, and it was at a time when there were several other super blends in my grinder rotation, so it’s a testament to Barrington that it stood out. I could happily gorge myself on it all day long.

Bags from Supreme

I guess the website, and my ramblings on various forums give away the fact that I like coffee – a lot. At this stage in my learning of making coffee, I am quietly confident I won’t ruin the coffee I use to brew too much. Stephen Morrissey discussed this in his recent talk at the Dublin SHOP Expo. It is so easy to make a potentially phenomenal coffee taste mediocre, or worse. The thing that has driven me in learning and improving have been those glimpses along the way of something better. Whether it was by French press, espresso or other brewing technique, once I tasted something better than I had previously, I wanted to be able to attain that consistently. Right now, I’m happy with the coffee I can make, but in a year’s time I may look back with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity at something which I might no longer deem acceptable. There is, however, a level of acceptance to be had when the issues are technique. Recently I got a glimpse of something better, something which left me speechless. However, this “advance” was not due to a better technique or some mysterious process; it was due to a particular coffee. That coffee was Aricha #17 from Supreme Roastworks in Oslo.

Is there anything as great as free goodies in a coffee order? Yes. When one of them happens to be an espresso blend that blows your socks off.

I placed an order from Supreme Roastworks based on their inclusion in Square Mile Coffee’s Taste of Norway event. To be honest I knew little about them, but I ordered a bag of their Air Element Espresso blend, a bag of Daterra Sweet Collection, and a bag of Aricha #17 Yirgacheffe. Aricha is a word I’ve been hearing more and more in coffee, but not one I completely understand. As far as I can ascertain it is a result of unprecedented care and attention to the coffee processing on the farmers end, such as picking only fully ripe cherries, discarding anything sub-optimal. The coffee is dry processed (it is allowed to dry with the outer cherry intact – this requires careful attention as this can spoil easily). This is undoubtedly a massive simplification, but when done really well the result is nothing short of revelatory (the previous Aricha I had was roasted by Novo in Denver, Colorado).

I know you can nit pick at the blonding in the crema, but the taste, being driven by that Aricha was phenomenal.

The bags of coffee arrived from Supreme with some goodies. The first was a nice big pin-badge (although my pin-badge wearing days are over, I stuck it to my fridge), the second was a mysterious “special” espresso blend. I had to email Supreme to find out what it was, and they told me it was a 50-50 of the Aricha and the Brazil Dattera. As it was roasted a little earlier than the other coffees I tried it first. I try not to overdo the superlatives, but this espresso will forever be burned in my memory. Blueberries, sweet ripe, juicy blueberries, were dripping like a jam out of a buttery pancake. I expected sharpness and a gum receding acidity, but there was none, just blueberries and a sweet deep chocolate finish. It is to my shame that I didn’t make a cappuccino or latte out of these beans, but I didn’t want to risk wasting a single bean if that flavour was diminished by milk.

The Air Element Espresso blend was somewhat overshadowed for me by the Special blend, this blend, however, should not be underestimated.

The single origin Aricha made just as an amazing French press coffee. For a little while I forgot that all coffee wasn’t this amazing. The notes were so pronounced, so accessible. My wife, who does not drink coffee, could identify blueberry smell from both the whole beans and the brewed cup. So often with family and friends it can be frustrating to try to communicate subtle nuanced flavours in coffee. With this coffee, however, it is not necessary. The mouthfeel was heavy and there was a terrific sweetness to the cup. I couldn’t get enough of it, I unearthed a Starbucks “venti” mug I had “obtained” years previously as it was the only mug I had big enough for the quantities I wanted to consume. I was no longer using the small 3 cup French press when making coffee just for myself; I was using the 8 cup model.

Sweet, light, creamy. Very tasty.

Under normal circumstances the Air Element blend would be the star of this discussion. Indeed it is a very accomplished blend in the Nordic style. Grapefruit / gooseberry acidity up front, balanced by a toasted almond middle note. I could not discern a bass note, often dark chocolate or pungent spice. However, I suspect that is somewhat the point of “Air” – to be light, bright and sweet. Similar to the Square Mile WBC blend, I found that a really tight ristretto unbalanced the cup to acidity, but I still favour it pulled slightly short. In milk it is delicate and bright, enhancing the sweetness of the milk. I was surprised at how well it stood up in milk.

The mouthfeel left me somewhat wanting as an espresso. In the French Press, however, the Dattera delivered.

The Dattera Sweet Collection, despite being a component of both espresso blends, didn’t make for a great espresso on its own. The flavours were there, they could be identified from within the other blends, but the mouthfeel was too light for me. It had brightness, sweetness, a kind of green grape juicyness, finishing on a mild nuttiness. It just seemed to lack that velvety, syrupy consistency you want from an espresso. In the French press it was toffee apple, again with some nuttiness. When I say toffee apple, it would of course be some kind of mutant toffee apple, where the apple is the size of a golf ball and the toffee about an inch thick – because the caramel and toffee flavours really deliver.

I was going to wrap this up by saying that Norway (and Denmark also) is a country with a roughly similar population to Ireland, but in the speciality coffee league table they are pushing for the Champions League, while we a struggling to avoid relegation (well maybe mid-table mediocrity). Having decided not to say that, I will instead say, these are great coffees, the Aricha in particular (and the blend it was in) is a coffee that should be tasted by anyone who claims to love coffee. Shipping of €30 on €36 of coffee makes this somewhat prohibitive for regular purchases, especially in hard economic times. However, for a better appreciation of coffee, to learn new things, gain new experiences, sometimes this is necessary. Whether it be from the UK, the US, Norway, Denmark or other places, the gauge by which we judge coffee in Ireland should be external rather than internal. Supreme are a great example to look to, they are only a recently founded company, but their enthusiasm can be seen in the coffee, in the swag, and in the jovial email responses to my questions. For me, the €30 shipping was money well spent.

Priorities... Priorities

I feel like I’m going to develop a music analogy theme on these bean reviews that I may not be able to dig myself out of. Nonetheless for the purposes of this review it’s all too apt, but I’ll try not to overplay it. Here we go. Was there ever a band or an artist that people kept telling you to listen to, but through a mixture of either lack of effort or preconceived notions you didn’t get around to it? For me that artist was Bruce Springsteen. My impressions of Bruce Springsteen (before I really listened to him) were of a bombastic, catchy songster, occupying the same creative space as say… Garth Brooks. I , like many before me, had fallen into the trap of thinking that his best known song Born in the USA was a vulgar pro-American pop tune (not helped by Ronald Reagan using it in his 1984 campaign). Of course if you listen to the words of Born in the USA it is an indictment of the USA in Vietnam. When it comes to Ristretto coffee in Co Down, people had been suggesting it to me for some time, but I never got around to it. Also a part of me probably thought that this until then unknown (to me) roaster in Northern Ireland probably hadn’t much to offer me. Bruce Springsteen now ranks among my top 5 artists of all time.

Dark striping, thick, unctuous espresso, pulled tight.

I like the gold valve bag. You don’t see gold very often and it looks cool. More to the point, however, is that the

roast date is bang slap on the front and it was roasted to order and shipped on the same day. As of now that is a unique selling point on this island. A £4.95 flat shipping rate to the Republic is nice if you’re going to order a few bags, but for a single bag it’s a bit steep. For me, a 250g bag of beans won’t last long, so I could happily order 4 bags safe in the knowledge they’ll all be devoured within 2 weeks. For others though the shipping cost needs to be weighed up against how long it will take to consume the beans to get that cost vs. freshness balance just right. Of course you could always freeze the beans. The Ristretto website says all the right things for me. Emphasis is placed on freshness, seasonality, organic practices and a mature discussion of ethical trading that doesn’t kowtow to the Fair Trade bandwagon.

Handsome crema.

My consumption of the 250g bag took less than 36 hours. I was cognisant that they were still very fresh, and maybe a rest of another couple have days may have allowed the flavours to settle. Throwing caution to the wind, however, I started pulling consecutive shots that led to a gluttonous consumption of the bag. The style of the blend is very much traditional Italian. Despite the lack of a robusta component that is common to most Italian blends (Illy being a big exception) the Ristretto blend would sit comfortably in the motherland. Low acidity coupled with big sweetness defines this style. The sweetness is the first thing that hits you, followed by a deeper cocoa type, slightly astringent flavour, fading into peppery tobacco note developing into the aftertaste. The crema was abundant (almost bottomless) and dark, and the body and mouthfeel were thick and syrupy. There’s no filler in this blend, the three components that comprise the mix are all single origin lots from Brazil, Guatemala and India. All three origins contribute to the flavour, and all are allowed make their presence felt without one dominating. At the same time it feels like an album rather than a compilation (there’s that analogy again). In milk the peppery tobacco note really shines through. It could easily be an everyday espresso, delivering a balanced espresso that is at home straight up as it is in milk. I’d favour the shots pulled slightly ristretto, but definitely not lungo.

That this coffee comes out of a small speciality roaster in Banbridge, Co Down is quite remarkable, and speaks to the hidden gems out there in Ireland. It’s actually quite difficult to find criticism with this blend. If I absolutely had to say something negative it would be that there are no particularly bright notes in the blend, no fruit or floral notes. Then again none of the Italian blends I’ve come across go down this route either. It would be like criticising Bruce Springsteen for not being Bob Dylan. Of course I’m not going to stop listening to Bob Dylan either but Bruce has become a regular feature of my playlists.

Ristretto Web Shop

Great logo!

Not since members of Buffalo Springfield, The Byrds and The Hollies came together has so much been expected from something so new. Stephen Stills, David Crosby, and Graham Nash each a superstar in his own right, came together to form a supergroup, redefined music for a generation and spawned countless imitators. Hoffman, Moldvaer and Morrissey like CSN have individual legacies prior to their union under the banner of Square Mile Coffee Roasters. Stehpen Morrissey: buachaill Éireannach, 2008 World Barista Champion. James Hoffman: 2007 World Barista Champion. Anette Moldvaer: 2007 World Cup Tasters Champion. Impressive awards, but they only underline the years of industry experience each member brings to the table. The newly opened webshop offers access to the fruits of this ménage a trois. Will it be a Déjà Vu masterpiece, or a Live It Up debacle? I took delivery of some of the WBC espresso blend to find out.

Reviewing a now sold-out and not to be repeated espresso blend might seem like a fool’s errand, but I hope it might lend insight into what is to be expected from this fledgling company.

I was really pleased to find badges, stickers, and some detailed information about the blend in the package. Nice touch.

This is the blend Stephen used to win the World Barista Championships this year, a simple 50:50 ratio of Rwandan Nyamagabe and Guatemalan El Bosque. At the time of order the blend was being sold until the stock of the component parts was exhausted (this has now come to pass). The packaging accomplishes originality and a sense of design that many roasters overlook. They come sealed in the requisite one way valve bags, and also have tie-clips for use once the bag has been opened. The roast date is stamped on the front, which is great, it’s prominent, it’s important. Square Mile roast to order, so beans going stale on shelves, and the pressure to ship off slightly older beans is removed from the equation. Orders are shipped and roasted (same day) on Mondays and Thursdays. I’d recommend for Irish customers to get the orders in before 12 noon on the Monday to avoid the beans sitting in a post depot over the weekend with a Thursday order. My order took 2 days to deliver, the shipping rates were very reasonable (£7.50 for a 3 bag order), and a delightful selection of stickers, badges, and information was included in the package.

One of the 40ml ristrettos.

The roast is quite light, maybe surprisingly so for those accustomed to darker roasted espresso beans. Opening the bag reveals quite a sweet aroma with fruity notes aplenty. The dry smell from the ground beans was similar, intensely fruity with lots of high notes. Over about a week I pulled various shots using this blend, with a varied dose of coffee and brew water. In most cases the high fruity notes hit me first; I placed these notes somewhere between apricot and blackcurrant. Then next a malty toasty flavour follows, bringing you down from the high notes to a rounder sweet mid note. This finished with a deeper cocoa powder bass note. I found a 40ml/18g/30s double ristretto to get the balance best for me, lower volumes made the high notes overly intense, while higher volumes muted these notes (of course this may be particular to my machine setup). In milk, the stars of the show – those high berry flavours are hugely diminished. The mid and low notes do carry though, and are very pleasing. The sweet milk and the malty toast flavour seem to combine well particularly, giving the sensation of butterscotch. For me the best of this blend is in the straight up espresso, it will give a good performance in milk, but I’d feel like I was masking some of the defining flavours.

Bainne. Avonmore as in Copenhagen.

There you have it, a quite interesting blend, but now sadly no longer available. What conclusions can be drawn about the future direction of Square Mile based on this? Certainly I would say the style of this blend places it closer to Norway than Naples. I found it at times a little tricky to get the right brew settings to get the best out of it, but that should not be taken as a criticism. No doubt it would be all too easy to create a forgiving, please-all blend. The WBC Espresso blend though is joyously unforgiving and even the most unbalanced of the shots I pulled were hugely interesting. I wouldn’t necessarily expect the next Square Mile Espresso blend to resemble the WBC blend. The whims, curiosities and moods of the Square Mile crew will be too changeable to be limited to one flavour profile. I do expect the next blend, however, to be fascinating. Perhaps it won’t be to everyone’s taste, and may not be the blend you always want to have in your grinder, but it will probably be one you want to play with, one you want to make 3 or 4 shots of in a row to try to recapture and define that one flavour you can’t quite place.

The history of CSN is fractious. Many factors contributed to the break-ups: the introduction of Neil Young to make it CSNY, David Crosby’s legendary drug use, Stephen Stills’ megalomania. For a time, however, they were untouchable. They were new, fresh, original. Pioneers. In these terms you might say Square Mile are still in the first studio rehearsal sessions, but I expect great things.

Looking Forward.

Earthy you say...

I wasn’t sure if I’d write this review. In fact, I had completely scrapped it. In the introduction / mission statement of this website I said it was the intention of this site to draw intention to what we thought was great, not to criticise what we didn’t like. At a certain point though, if everything is positive, there is no context and it becomes one big generic advertisement for coffee. We didn’t seek out some coffee so we could break our negativity cherry; there are far more obvious targets for that. Instead we ambled down to the M&D stall in Georges Arcade fully ready to buy some nice fresh coffee beans, make a few cups of this and that, and start singing the praises. Reality got in the way though.

M&D (Moynihan & Dent) operate a stall in the funky Georges St Arcade. They sell a veritable plethora of

Doesn't look half bad here. Didn't taste half bad either. Not half...

beans and teas, and have probably the best selection of Moka pots and other quirky little brewers in Dublin. They also have a stall in the Farmer’s Market in Howth on a Sunday (and possibly elsewhere on other days). We wandered in anyway, and asked for a suggestion of something that would work well for espresso. The Cuban blend, which to me is one of the darkest, oilest roast I’ve ever seen, was not something I was eager to put in my grinder (the oil would linger imparting flavour on subsequent coffee). So the Java blend was suggested. I asked when it was roasted, and was told 4 days ago. Great I thought.

Bodum Vac Pot Top bowl of the Bodum Santos vac-pot with the Nuova Simonelli Grinta grinder in the background.

The beans, residing in big bins, were weighed and transferred to a plastic bag which was sealed. The bag had no valves, so I was slightly concerned that if it was 4 days post roast, the beans might still be degassing, and could cause a problem. Not the prettiest of containers, but functional. The sticker on the bag describes the blend as “A strong, dark roast coffee with an earthy flavour, lovely in the morning!”. The word Java has maybe lost its meaning in recent times and has merely become a synonym of coffee, or worse still a computer programming language. This Java, however, refers to the Indonesian island from which the coffee originates.

Vac Pot Brew The final stages of the vac pot brew. The heat is removed and the resulting vacuum draws the coffee down into the bottom bowl.

Normally we’d dial in the grinder and make a double espresso and a latté, but we didn’t get as far as the latté this time. On first inspection the espresso looked good; the colour was dark with some mottling. On closer inspection though, the crema was very bubbly, big bubbles instead of the expected microbubbles, and it seemed very thin for a coffee roasted only 4 days previously. Something was awry. To describe the taste as “rough” would be generous. The overriding flavour characteristic was earthiness (as promised), the body was thin, we debated whether there was a hint of sweetness and some brighter notes in the background, but we struggled hard. The thought crossed my mind that I’d been slipped a bag of robusta surreptitiously. We didn’t bother with a latté, and we didn’t finish the espresso. Instead we thought, maybe this really should be filter only, and we got the vac-pot out of the press to test this hypothesis.

Oh how I love my vac-pot, except when it clogs, which is frequent enough. On this day though, it behaved itself. Vac-pots (also known as siphon coffee makers) fall into the broader category of devices for making filter coffee, which includes press-pots, drip filters, and others. The basic principle is that you have two bowls separated by a filter. A long tube from the top bowl penetrates towards the end of the bottom bowl. In the top bowl you place the ground coffee, in the bottom bowl the water. Then you apply heat. As the water heats in the bottom bowl, the increasing gas pressure forces the now hot water up into the top bowl. You keep the heat on for a couple of minutes to brew the coffee, and then remove the heat. As the bottom bowl cools the gases contract creating a vacuum. This vacuum draws the coffee through the filter leaving the grinds in the top bowl and beautifully smooth tasty coffee in the bottom.

At least that’s the theory. No matter what you’re brewing with you can’t improve the bean you start with. As a filter coffee M&D Java seemed somewhat more suited. Still though, it wasn’t great. It all tasted a bit flat, apart from the aforementioned earthiness. In fairness to them, they say on the front of the bag that it’s “earthy”. It’s earthy at the expense of nearly everything else though. Some people like Marmite, so maybe I can appreciate the possibility that this is to someone’s taste, but neither of us liked it. If you had told me someone put some soil in the end of my cup, I might have believed you, and that’s where I’ll finish flogging these beans to death.

Perhaps it is unfortunate that this is the first coffee from M&D we have chosen to review. I don’t want this review to paint them in a bad light; I think they do some interesting coffees. The Cuban coffee I mentioned before, I have had previously, and I’ve seen merit in it. It’s roasted to the point where the roast flavour is very prominent, but there are some cool funky flavours lurking in there too (you just might have to clean your grinder when you’re finished). We’ll endeavour to look at another M&D bean sooner rather than later and see if we have some kinder impressions to offer.