Coffees of India

India produces two fine coffees, but even among coffee devotees at least in America they remain relatively unknown and un-drunk. That’s too bad. They deserve to be extolled for the romance attached to them, if nothing else; happily, they also taste pretty good as well.
According to legend, coffee was discovered in Ethiopia. The first big coffee craze, though, occurred in Arabia, where by the 13th century Muslims were brewing and drinking huge quantities of it. Travelers from Arabia took the beans with them wherever they went beans deliberately made infertile, allegedly, by parching or boiling. Because of this strict export control policy, it is claimed that no coffee seed sprouted outside Africa or Arabia until the 17th century.
Enter (or exit, as the case may be) one Baba Budan one of the great heroes in the history of coffee, in my opinion. Wrapping up a pilgrimage to Arabia from his native land of India, Budan left Mecca with several fertile coffee beans strapped to his belly. From those beans sprouted the first coffee trees to be grown in India, as well as an agricultural industry that could no longer be contained to one small part of the world.
For romance, though, nothing in the world of coffee, to my mind, beats the story of Monsooned Malabar, one of the two coffees for which India is known today.
The British began the modern commercial cultivation of coffee on the hills of southern India, along the Malabar coast, a century-and-a-half ago. The coffee grown there was packed raw into the holds of wooden ships and sent on a six-month trip, around the Cape of Good Hope, to the coffee houses and shops of Europe. On such a long journey, and in such vessels, the beans inevitably became exposed to almost constant humidity. That humidity turned the beans pale gold and leached them of their acidity. When the coffee finally reached its destination it had been considerably mellowed and Europeans loved it.
Progress eventually intervened, though, to temporarily deny the coffee drinkers of Europe their beloved aged Indian bean. The opening of the Suez Canal made the trip from the Malabar Coast much shorter. And, the coffee began to be shipped in modern steel vessels. These developments conspired to deprive the coffee beans of the prolonged exposure to humidity which had been responsible for their distinctive flavor.
To meet the demand for the old style of coffee from Malabar, some growers hit on a simple but ingenious solution. They would duplicate the moist conditions of the old sea voyage by exposing their beans to the Indian monsoon. Thus, Monsooned Malabar.
The monsooning process is a long one and actually fairly labor intensive. First, the coffee to be monsooned is stored in a special warehouse to await the monsoon season. When the time comes, the sides of the warehouse are opened, allowing the wet monsoon winds to circulate around the beans. The beans may also be raked or hand-turned on the floor of the warehouse to assist in the process. Monsooning takes 12 to 16 weeks. During this time the beans swell to twice their picked size and turn that signature pale golden color.
The taste of Monsooned Malabar coffee is usually described in terms such as musty, earthy, corky and woody. Some writers have called it “mellow” yet “aggressive” at the same time! All agree that it has a polarizing quality you’ll either adore it or detest it. Maybe I just haven’t had enough cups yet to really judge, but in my opinion the taste is not as idiosyncratic as all that. Musty, maybe, put not off-puttingly so. I think that many people would enjoy it, not just those of us who enjoy seeking out the more unusual offerings of the coffee world. And again, for my part, the fascinating story behind this particular coffee makes up for any deficiency in the cup.
Unfortunately, you still can’t find Monsooned Malabar just anywhere. Ordering it by mail is still the best bet for most of us. Oddly enough, until very recently it was easier to acquire green (unroasted) Malabar coffee beans than roasted ones. My first cup came from beans that I roasted at home, myself, in a popcorn popper. There are many resources on the Web for anyone interested in getting into home coffee roasting, an enjoyable hobby in its own right.
There are a few coffee sellers on the Web now who offer roasted Monsooned Malabar and similarly exotic or hard-to-find beans. In the case of Malabar (as opposed, say, to geunine Kona or Jamaican Blue Mountain), the price actually compares quite favorably with more mundane or “normal” coffees. If you like traveling the world in a coffee cup and especially if you’d like to drink something with a bit of romance to it you owe it to yourself to get your hands on some Monsooned Malabar. By the way, if you drink a lot of espresso, you might have had some Malabar coffee without knowing; some expresso producers include it in their so-called exotic blends.
India’s other major coffee variety comes from the Mysore region (now the state of Karnakata). Called Indian Mysore, Mysore Nuggets, Mysore Straight, or simply Mysore, it makes a rich and spicy cup of coffee that at its best may be termed “sweet” — a word you would never hear applied to Monsooned Malabar. Interestingly enough, though, Mysore coffee also gets its unique taste from being exposed to the monsoon wind and rain, which pump up the beans with moisture and smooth out their flavor. The difference may be simply that in the case of the Malabar, the monsoon exposure is purposely carried to an extreme.
Mysore coffee is also becoming easier to find in the United States, although most people will still have to seek out a reliable seller on the Web. It’s definitely worth finding and trying some. According to some connoisseurs, Indian Mysore at its best is among the finest coffees produced anywhere.

Coffee Roasting De-mystified

How many different names have you run across for different types of coffee roasts? Light, Medium, Dark? Espresso? Continental? Vienna, French, Italian, Spanish? City? Full-City? C’mon, who’s thinking up these things?
Well, the dark secret (pardon the pun) of the coffee industry is that, well, there really isn’t full agreement on which roast is which. So basically, we all pretty much get to hunt around, try different coffees from different sources and pick the one(s) we like. In this article, I’ll try to use the standard nomenclature, and map it to the color and texture anyone can judge for himself.
The roasting adventure begins with green coffee beans. These are stored at room temperatures, at 12-15% moisture content. Roasting is done at temperatures of up to 450+ degrees F. Duration and temperature determine the roast.
A coffee bean will take on heat until the internal temperature of the bean reaches approximately 212-240 deg F. At this point, the outer layer of the bean(s) will discolor, turning a nice cinnamon color. Here, steam will start being released from the bean.
As the bean heats up further (approx 250-300 degrees F, again depending on the variety), the external membrane of the bean will dry up and start separating from the bean itself. At approximately 350 degrees F, the continuing heating of the bean forces a ‘first crack.’  This cracking occurs as moisture within is released through the existing seam in the bean.   This essentially blows this small crack open, forcing the separation of the remaining bean ‘chaff’.
Coffee at this stage is a light brown color; entering the ‘light City Roast’ stage. City Roast is usually achieved at a slightly higher temperature (above 370 deg F), where the sugars within the bean start melting or “carmelizing’. This gives the distinctive ‘coffee brown’ color. City Roasts are usually stopped around 400 deg. or so. At this point, the sugars are not fully carmelized, and flavor of the beans at this stage are very much determined by their origin; not by the degree of roast.
The ‘Full City Roast’ stage occurs at higher temperatures, just as the bean reaches the ‘second crack’ stage. This stage happens at different temperatures for different beans based on variety. The second crack comes as the temperatures of the bean reach the point where the cellular composition of the bean starts breaking down. To obtain the Full City roast, roasting is stopped just at the point where this second crack starts (approx 425-435 deg F.) At this point the bean is darker brown, but ‘dry’ looking, as the oils of the bean have not started to emerge through the molecular breakdown of the bean.
Going into the second crack, we reach the ‘Vienna’, ‘Continental’, ‘French’ and/or ‘Italian’ roast stages. These are sometimes also referred to as “Espresso Roast”, although strictly speaking, there’s no such thing. Italian espresso blends actually vary – northern blends are typically roasted to the ‘Vienna’ stage, well into the second crack, where the sugars within the bean are almost fully carmelized and many beans within the roast will appear dark brown with hints of fissures. Espresso blends in southern Italy are usually roasted into the “French Roast” stage, where almost all of the beans will be about one shade removed from black and oils will start emerging from some beans.
Beyond this point, beans will start releasing oils and their soluble compounds – mainly as a lot of smoke; but the beans will be left quite dark with a very oily sheen. Assuming they have not fully burnt yet, this can be specified as “Italian Roast”.  I’ve observed different temperatures (within the roaster) for all of these stages depending on the bean variety – so as my roasts reach the second crack, I tend to trust my eyes and ears more than I trust my probe thermometer.
One interesting note of coffee roasting is that as beans reach into the second crack, they tend to lose any distinctive varietal flavors. Is this a bad thing? Well, for some, perhaps… I for one will mutter a bit if my Ethiopian Yirgacheffe goes past Full City and I lose the distinctive flavor notes; and in my early roasting career I almost cried as a batch of prized Puerto Rican select went unheeded into the Italian Roast realm before I managed to get back to it. But… some varieties do better at the distinctive French Roast stage.  De gustibus non disputandum est – it just doesn’t pay to dispute the results in the cup!
And that is coffee roasting. I have seen a fair amount of advertising of ‘slow-roasted’ or ‘deep-roasted’ coffee, which always gets me to wondering. I suppose if you roast a huge amount of beans in a low-temperature environment… why, yes, that would in fact be a slow process!  Certainly for a roaster to get beans to a certain roast point and no further, it does pay to be precise and not rapidly incinerate his product. But I can’t say I’d want to purposely take any longer than necessary to do so.
As for ‘deep’ roasting? Hmm. Can’t say as I’ve ever heard of ‘shallow’ roasting; but whatever it is, ‘deep roast’ must be the opposite!  Seriously, the only ‘trick of the trade’ that I can think of runs counter to the notion of holding beans at any given temperature… and that is, once a batch reaches the desired point, get it out of the roaster and cool it down FAST!  As described above, the quality of a roast depends on those sugars and soluble materials within the bean getting ‘cooked’ very specifically. Keeping the beans near additional heat (yes, even other beans nearby, releasing their own heat energy) will continue to cook them.
To some extent this is unavoidable, so the experienced roaster will compensate for this by knowing his roasting environment; and ideally provide a cooling location where beans can cool as rapidly as possible by the flow of cool (i.e., room temperature) air over the freshly-roasted beans. This allows them to ‘coast’ into their final characteristic color and taste.

The Coffee Culture in the USA

It wasn’t until I moved to the US that I started drinking coffee regularly and became what they call in the Netherlands a ‘koffieleut’, which translates literally into “coffee socialite.’ Although the average European drinks more coffee per year than the average American, the cultural importance and its effects on the average European seems to me smaller than that on the average American. After all, coffee is a cultural obsession in the United States.
Chains with thousands of branches like Dunkin’ Donuts or Starbucks dominate US daily street life. Especially in the morning (90% of coffee consumed in the US is in the morning), millions of white foamy cups with boldly imprinted pink and orange logos bob across the streets in morning rush hour and on the train. Coffee drive-ins are a saving grace for the rushing army of helmeted and tattooed construction workers. During lunch break, men and women in savvy business suits duck into coffee shops.
Students chill out from early afternoon till late evening on comfy couches at coffee lounges around campus. Police officers clutch coffee cups while guarding road construction sites on the highway. In short, coffee drinkers in the United States can be found just about anywhere you go.
This mass-psychotic ritual causes Americans to associate Europe above all with cars that oddly do not contain cup holders (to an American this is like selling a car without tires), or with the unbelievably petite cups of coffee European restaurants serve, so small that my father-in-law had to always order two cups of coffee. It is my strongest conviction that the easily agitated and obsessed nature of the “New Englander’ can be blamed on the monster-size cups of coffee they consume. Not without reason is the word ‘coffee’ derived from the Arab ‘qahwa’ meaning “that which prevents sleep.’ Arabs have cooked coffee beans in boiling water since as far back as the 9th century and drank the stimulating extract as an alternative to the Muslims’ forbidden alcohol.
These days coffee is second only to oil as the most valuable (legally) traded good in the world with a total trade value of $70 billion. Interestingly, only $6 billion reaches coffee producing countries. The remaining $64 billion is generated as surplus value in the consumption countries. Small farmers grow 70% of world coffee production. They mainly grow two kinds of coffee beans: Arabica and Robusta. About 20 million people in the world are directly dependent on coffee production for their subsistence.
Table 1: production in 2002/3
country % 70% Arabica
30% Robusta
Brasil 42.03% Arab/Rob
Colombia 8.88% Arabica
Vietnam 8.35% Robusta
Indonesia 4.89% Rob/Arab
India 3.74% Arab/Rob
Mexico 3.54% Arabica
Guatemala 3.1% Arab/Rob
Uganda 2.53% Rob/Arab
Ethiopia 2.44% Arabica
Peru 2.24% Arabica
Table 2: consumption in 2001/2world consumption % kg per capita (2001)
USA 30.82% Finland  11.01
Germany 15.07% Sweden  8.55
Japan 11.47% Denmark  9.71
France 8.89% Norway  9.46
Italy 8.59% Austria  7.79
Spain 4.90% Germany  6.90
Great-Brittain 3.63% Switzerland 6.80
the Netherlands 2.69% the Netherlands 6.48
Although the consumption of coffee per capita in the world is decreasing (in the US alone it decreased from 0.711 liter in 1960 to 0.237 liter presently), world consumption is still increasing due to the population explosion. Considering that coffee consists of either 1% (Arabica), 2% (Robusta) or 4.5%-5.1% (instant coffee) caffeine, the average American consumes at least 200 to 300mg (the recommended maximum daily amount) of caffeine a day through the consumption of coffee alone.
The place I frequent to down a cup of coffee is the Starbucks in Stamford, Connecticut. The entrance can be found on the corner of Broad Street and Summer Street, to the left to the main public library with its plain pediment and slim Ionic columns. The location right next to the library harmonizes with Starbuck’s marketing plan. At the entrance of the coffee shop a life-size glass window curves around to the left, providing superb voyeuristic views of pedestrians on the sidewalk. As you enter, you step directly into the living room area with stacked bookshelves against the back wall. Velvet armchairs face each other with small coffee tables in the middle, creating intimate seating areas. The velvet chairs near the window are the prime seats, which people unfortunate to score a wooden chair prey upon. At the back of the long rectangular room is the coffee bar and a small Starbuck’s gift shop. There is a dark wooden table with electrical outlets suited for spreading out laptops and spreadsheets, dividing the living room area from the coffee bar.
Since I have been cranky for weeks I hesitate to order a regular black coffee. It is very easy to get cloyed with a favorite food or drink in the US because of the super-sized portions served. The smallest cup of coffee is a size ‘tall’ (12oz.=0.35l.), after which one can choose between a ‘grande’ (16oz.=0.5l.) and a ‘venti’ (20oz.=0.6l.). Half a liter of coffee seems a bit over the top, and it sounds absolutely absurd to my European mind. I finally end up choosing a ‘solo’ espresso.
Sitting in one of the booth-like seats against the back wall, unable to obtain a prime seat, I feign to read my book while eavesdropping on conversations around to me. Three middle-aged men sit in three ash gray velvet chairs and converse loudly. A vivid dialogue develops, exchanged with half roaring, half shrieking, laughter. They mock a colleague in his absence and then clench their brows in concern while discussing the teeth of one of the men’s daughter. Two African-American women sit at a small table opposite the reading-table in the murky light, one of them with a yellow headscarf with black African motifs. Close to the entrance, in the seating area next to the animated conversation, a vagabond is playing solitaire. One by one he places the creased cards with rounded backs over one another, as if he attempts to stick them together. He rendered a couple of dollars in exchange for a small coffee to feel, in the warmth of the front room, nostalgia for a cozy living room and relives a sense of intimacy of having your own house.
It’s a bright, sunny, early autumn day, a typical New England Indian summer. Sunbeams radiate through the coloring, flickering foliage, and throw a puzzle-shaped shadow into Starbuck’s window. Autumn’s hand turns her colorful kaleidoscopic lens. The green ash tree near the sidewalk resembles, with its polychrome colors, somewhat a bronze statue: its stem sulphur bronze, its foliage intermittently copper green and ferric-nitrate golden. On the other side of the cross walk the top of a young red oak turns fiery red. These are the budding impressions of the autumn foliage for which Connecticut is ‘world famous’ in the US.
In the world of marketing and entrepreneurship, Starbucks is a success story. It is one of those stories of “excellence’ taught as a case study at business school. Founded in 1971, it really began its incredible growth under Howard Schultz in 1985, and presently has 6,294 coffee shops. But what does its success really consists of? A large cup of coffee at Starbucks is much more expensive than at Dunkin’ Donuts: $2.69 compared to $3.40 for a Starbucks’ “venti’. But while Dunkin’ Donuts offers only a limited assortment of flavors like mocha, hazelnut, vanilla, caramel and cinnamon, you will find exotic quality beans at Starbucks like Bella Vista F.W. Tres Rios Costa Rica, Brazil Ipanema Bourbon Mellow, Colombia NariГ±o Supremo, Organic Shade Grown Mexico, Panama La Florentina, Arabian Mocha Java, CaffГЁ Verona, Guatemala Antigua Elegant, New Guinea Peaberry, Zimbabwe, Aged Sumatra, Special Reserve Estate 2003 Sumatra Lintong Lake Tawar, Italian Roast, Kenya, Ethiopia Harrar, Ethiopia Sidamo, Ethiopia Yergacheffe and French Roast. So Starbucks offers luxury coffees and high quality coffee dining, reminiscent almost of the chic coffee houses I visited in Vienna.
Every now and then, I grin shamefully and think back at my endless hesitation choosing between the only two types of coffee available in most Dutch stores: red brand and gold brand. Even up to this day I have no clue what the actual difference is between the two, apart from the color of the wrapping: red or gold. Not surprisingly, Starbucks appeals to the laptop genre of people: consultants, students, intellectuals, the middle class, and a Starbucks coffee is a white-collar coffee, while a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee is a blue-collar coffee. In Dunkin’ Donuts you will run into Joe the Plumber, Bob the barber, and Mac the truck driver. But what is it exactly, that attracts the white collared workers in the US to fall back into the purple velvet chairs?
I imagine their working days filled with repetitive actions and decisions within a playing field of precisely defined responsibilities. How many of the players in these fields get through the day with its routines for simply no other reason than being able to enjoy their daily 30 minutes-escape into the Starbucks intimacy where, for a brief moment in the day, you regain the illusion of human warmth and exotic associations of resisting the coldness of high finance? For 15 minutes you fall back into the deep, soft pillow of a velvet chair and randomly, and alas how important is that moment of utter randomness, pull a book from the shelves. While, in the background, soothing tones resound of country blues, with its recognition of deep human suffering, a blaze of folk with the primary connection with nature and tradition, or of merengue reviving the passionate memories of adventure and love, you gaze out the window and ponder about that simple, volatile reflection in the moment, strengthened by the physical effect of half a liter of watery coffee that starts to kick in and the satisfaction of chewing your muffin, bagel, cake, brownie, croissant or donut. It is, above all, that bodily ecstasy caused by a combination of caffeine, sugar and the salivating Pavlov effect. You remember the struggling musician behind the counter taking your order, the amateur poet as you pay her for the coffee and give a full dollar tip, feeling a transcendental bound in your flight from reality. You stare with a fastened throbbing of the first gulps of coffee at the advertisements and poems on the bulletin board, and dauntlessly you think: They are right, they are so right! and what do I care? Why should I care? Fuck my boss, fuck the system, fuck everybody!’
But then you look at your watch and notice you really have to run again. ‘Well, too bad, gotta go!’, or people will start gossiping for being so long away from your desk. And while you open the door, an autumn breeze blows in your face, the last tunes of the blues solo die out as the Hammond organ whispers: ‘I throw my troubles out the door, I don’t need them anymore’.
Coffee in the US is a subculture that massively floated to the surface of the consumer’s society. Starbucks is more than coffee, it’s more than just another brand on the market, it is a social-political statement, a way of perceiving how you would like to live, in other words it is a culture. Starbucks is the alternative to Coca-Cola and so much more than just coffee: it’s chocolate, ice-cream, frappuccino, travel mugs with exotic prints, cups and live music, CD’s, discounts on exhibitions and even support for volunteer work.