Organic Honduras Marcala

Name: Organic Honduras Marcala

Origin: Marcala, Honduras

Roaster: The Gentle Brew

Roast: Medium-Brown
Varietals: (unknown)

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

This is true of most types of stores, but wine shops are famous for it: One of the benefits of going into a good one is that the shopkeeper can recommend something for anything. Customers will be indulged in their zaniest, most preposterous fancies. Want a sweet red with personality, but maybe not the same old California Cabernet, but still not a radical departure from it, but you really are looking for something different, but not too different, but not the same either? Just ask, it is yours. Hosting someone who is crazy about Loire wines, and you are quite intent on making your famous chicken fricassee that evening, and the wine and chicken must meld together absolutely perfectly, and no you will absolutely not divulge what you put in it to the shopkeep or anyone else outside of the family, and by the way you hate Loire wines so it cannot be too Loire-ish, but it has to be something that this Loire fanatic friend of yours will appreciate along with his mystery meat? Ask, and ye shall receive. Karen MacNeil, author of The Wine Bible, once asked for a wine with the personality of Robin Williams - and was duly directed to one.

I, for the record, am not interested in imbibing any beverage whatsoever reminiscent of Jumanji. However, I do enjoy being able to bounce my more complicated requirements off of expert ears and get good direction. This is true not only of wine but of all things, including coffee. I have found that most of the good craft roasters are glad to oblige such discussion in their stores, and The Gentle Brew is no exception. As the only craft roasters local to me, they have borne the unenviable burden of indulging more of my questions, dithering, and pure indecisiveness than any mere mortal ever should have to. But what can I say? Some days I know what I want; others, I have no hope of independently thinking through the slightest trifle until I have had some darn coffee in the first place.

Recently I asked one of those patient souls to recommend some beans to take home and brew for a review. "Something organic," I specified, "that would be well brewed with a French press." There was little hesitation; my expert friend knew right away what I would want: the Honduras Marcala. It was a brilliant choice.

The Marcala region, by the way, claims a unique bragging right. Nestled in western Honduras - right in the heart of a part of the world with more than a few competing coffee regions - Marcala has the distinction of being the first ever protected denomination of origin for coffee in Central America. The region has taken pride in its coffee production for generations, and continues to be at the forefront of that sector. When roasted properly, its beans can be quite an experience.

The beans from The Gentle Brew were roasted medium-brown, but there is nothing very dark about the liquid in the press. Neither orangey nor blackish, it sports rather a chestnut hue. There were, however, two tones to it, or rather two layers to the one tone: a lighter cloud in the middle is surrounded by an amorphous frame of slightly darker brown. The coffee is not actually separated; that is simply how it looks.

The Marcala's aroma is nutty, with notes of toasted marshmellow, and florals around the edges. It has many notes of a dark roast, but not the feel, texture, or personality of one. As it cools, tannins become more apparent, as does a certain wininess along with it. The palate is moderately tannic, with plenty of fruity notes, but also fairly buttery with an underlayer of light toast. The actual acidity is under control, but flavors of acidic things are dominant. The coffee is light bodied, but smooth and rich in flavor, really no more than a notch or two short of bold - and yet the light body does not seem to mind it very much at all, holding all of those notes just fine. The finish is of white table grapes and toasted marshmellow, an unlikely yet pleasant combination. It is a light and easy finish, wispy almost, quick.

The Marcala straddles the line between medium and dark profiles. It is almost as though the roast did not meet in the middle of medium and dark so much as mix and match elements of each, and discover harmony among them. For such complexity and sophistication to appear in an unblended coffee is rare, and speaks to a true roasting expertise.

The next time that you are out to pick up some coffee (or tea, wine, whiskey...) think ahead of time just how you would like it to be. By no means should you ask for a cup full of your favorite big screen comedian, as that will likely backfire in more ways than one. But think about what makes your usual preference distinct. What else may you be looking for this week? Anything? Why? Ask an expert about it. Learn something about what is out there. Experiment a little! You may find the greatest new thing on earth right under your nose, or you may discover more than you ever knew about why you love your old standard. Either way, it will make coffee better for you, more intimate, more fulfilling. Enjoy.

Stumptown Organic Ethiopia Mordecofe

Name: Organic Ethiopia Mordecofe

Origin: Mora Mora River Valley, Guji Zone, Ethiopia

Roaster: Stumptown

Roast: (unknown)

Varietal: Ethiopia Heirloom

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

It is always a pleasure to experience a fusion of old world and new, especially when it puts into focus a continuous, live tradition. Coffee has many traditions, from Western coffeehouses to Latin American coffee plantations to Turkish style coffee being passed around a souk to farms dotting the numerous famous hotspots throughout Southeast Asia. It is for good reason that we continue to cherish these traditions, but where did they come from? Where did they all begin?

Much like people, coffee originated in Africa before spreading around the globe. Unlike people, coffee has traditions that did not arise until well after history was being recorded, so we can trace it all with a comfortable degree of precision. Growing wild in Ethiopia, coffee was first made an object of agriculture around the year 850 C.E. Soon the Yemenites picked up the crop, and the brewing of coffee become popular in growing numbers of places around the world. The Yemenites would have loved to keep the monopoly over its production all to themselves, but sooner or later all secrets are set loose. Coffee was brought to Indonesia for planting, and after that to the New World. Consumption was already global by that point. The rest is history.

But there it was, in Ethiopia's former Kaffa region, that it all began. (Ethiopians call coffee "bun" - it was once thought that a misunderstanding of "Kaffa bun" is why English speakers call something unrelated to beans a "coffee bean", although that explanation has since been discredited.) And it still grows there today.

Along the eastern flank of this swath of land is the Guji zone where one Mr. Haile Gebre runs a couple of farms and a washing station. Gebre ought to know a thing or two about local agricultural traditions; he formerly held a government post in Ethiopia as director of cooperative business. Little wonder, then, that after returning to his family's land and growing coffee he embraced the direct trade movement. Direct trade seems more and more these days to be a common thread among serious roasters, at least among those with, shall we say, the wherewithal. The coffee is fresher and more choice, the business is more transparent, and usually everybody wins.

In one sense, perhaps, there is nothing new under the sun. Coffee is grown, traded, roasted, brewed, and enjoyed. Some headline. But in another sense, things are different. Gebre studied in Russia. He is a learned, traveled man. He knows where his coffee is going, and he knows how to do business in the modern world that can benefit farmers in Ethiopia, businesspeople in Oregon, and consumers in New York, all at the same time. How many Ethiopian coffee farmers a thousand years ago could have said such a thing? Some, maybe. But the context of coffee, much as the world itself, was very different. The details have changed; and yet, the important principles have remained largely the same. I suppose that is how traditions live on.

So what does it taste like, a millennium-plus-old tradition? Quite delightful, really. The press turns up a rich, dark, chocolate colored brew. The aroma is initially of a winey character with florals around the edges; as the coffee cools it becomes vice versa. The florals are predominantly honeysuckle, plus there is caramel in there. There is another element to it as well, a richness, and I cannot tell if it is a full-bodied textural quality that found its way into the aroma or else a slight earthiness that has spread out and given a smoothness to the rest of things. The palate is of fruit, wine, and figs. I do not taste the mint chip ice cream that Stumptown mentions in its tasting notes, but I do taste the brown sugar, as well as hints of carob and lychee to go beside what is by now indisputably earthiness. There is also a tad of spiciness which does not jump in and add another layer to the mix but rather appears as an extra dimension of the existing layers of fruits and earth, a little kick that makes each other flavor a little more interesting. (That must be what Stumptown means by "ginger".) The liquid is rich and full-bodied; it is not syrupy, but then again, there is not much farther to go. Fruits and spice characterize the finish.

Stumptown, of course, as part of its focus on roasting for the bean, does not label their expert roasts as light, medium, or dark. But if I had to guess how this coffee may be characterized, I would say that it is a medium roast. It has plenty of room for the terroir and its flavors to spread out and express themselves, but there is an undercurrent of earthiness and the acidity is under control.

Did Ethiopian coffee beans always have these characteristics? Were they always roasted quite this way? Has the Mora Mora River Valley always been home to this crop? Have people always enjoyed Ethiopia heirloom in this or a similar way? Some people know the answers to some of those questions. Most people have no clue. I would love one day to join the first group of people. Until then, I am enjoying my place among the second. There is nothing quite like a tasty mystery to add a pleasing edge to the experience of tradition.

Puroast Organic Dark French Roast

Name: Organic Dark French Roast 

Roaster: Puroast 

Preparation 1: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black 

Preparation 2: Freshly ground, 5 teaspoons combined with 1.75 cups water and 0.48 ounces (4 packets) of sugar, kept over medium-low flame until ready, sipped without further enhancement

The benefits of a low acid coffee are numerous, and quite as one might expect. Those with sensitive, shall we say, central processing can rest assured that Puroast's coffee will serve them quite well. This might seem like a rather mundane feature, but those coffee lovers who have had to cut back because of pain or health risk ought to take a definite interest. And after all, heartburn, indigestion, ulcers, and other related afflictions are hardly rare.

But the opportunity will not mean very much if the coffee is sub-par, will it? The good news is, while it may not be everyone's ideal coffee, it is quite tasty. And, while I have reviewed here the dark roast, Puroast has many varieties available to suit all preferences.

French pressing the coffee yields a dark, dark brown brew, somewhere between royal mahogany and ebony in hue. The aroma, much like everything else about this coffee, is smooth. There is earthiness in the scent, and did I detect some sweetness? It must be a hint of caramel flavor. In the palate, though, all semblance of sweetness is gone. The coffee is earthy, a little smoky, and exceedingly smooth. The body is medium. There is a mild finish, earthy and buttery; one appreciates how it is unpresumptuous.

I usually dislike acid in a coffee. All of the energy that it gives to the flavors and tannins is, rather than keen and spunky, more like astringent and bleaching. It becomes frustratingly difficult to get a hold of the flavors; they go bouncing off the walls of my tongue and palate in a chaotic rather than playful manner, and heck if I can discern a single tasting note on the first or second pass. Smooth, calm, and steady; that is my thing. Therefore, though my own central processing works just fine (for now; I can hardly wait for time to go on), I very much looked forward to this low-acid coffee. So, on the whole, how did it meet its promise?

On the one hand, it is a little bit as they say: one never appreciates something until one does not have it anymore. This coffee errs on the side of flat. It is smooth as can be, with flavors on wonderful display, but lacking a tad in personality. On the other hand, especially since I was not out looking for an adventure, it can hardly have been more pleasant to have the flavors of a splendidly roasted coffee flow across the taste buds without having to stop and wait for a harsh wave of acid to wash by every other nanosecond. On balance, it is well worthwhile.

And, the Turkish preparation was even better. The coffee comes out dark, dark, and darker: totally ebony. It proffers such strong roasting notes that the full complement of sugar hardly even comes through in the aroma. But one does pick up on some earthiness and florals from the coffee itself, which is very nice. In the palate, there is plenty of sweetness that comes through. It is smooth and full-bodied. Here, the lack of acid does a perfect job of fulfilling its aesthetic promise of letting the coffee round itself out an sprawl about the mouth in a mellow, but not lethargic, way, blanketing the tongue and palate in delight. There are a couple of coffee notes here and there – nuttiness, florals, smoke – but mostly it is earthiness and sugar. There is no doubt that if one were to add other spices to flavor the brew, they would shine wonderfully. This coffee is just right for holding them up without tossing them about, blending them seamlessly without shaking anything around.

Those who suffer from certain internal symptoms, those who dislike acidity in coffee, and really anyone in general, are all encouraged to get some Puroast coffee and make a pot. It is, truly, a delight.

Agapao Dave's Organic Signature Blend

Type: Dave's Organic Signature Blend

Roaster: Agapao

Roast: Very Dark Roast

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

He is a bold man who puts his name right on the forefront of his work for all the world to see. It is appropriate, then, that the eponymous Dave at Agapao put his name on a bold cup of coffee. Well, sometimes bold. The dark, carob-colored beverage is a blend, after all, and all of the ingredients must be allowed to come out and play. The various components take turns strutting their stuff, and the result is a delightfully dynamic breakfast beverage.

Dave's Organic Signature Blend says "very dark roast" on the package. The beans appear, indeed are, rich and oily. When brewed, they have a nutty, earthy aroma quite on the strong side. The palate is surprised, then, when it finds itself tasting an extremely smooth, light (but not buttery) coffee of mid-level intensity with some smoke, some nut, a few florals around the edges, and no acid. It finishes rich, airy, with earthy tones: precisely the point of the undulation of characteristics at which the robust, nutty aroma is ready to pick up again on the next sip.

Coffees like this are just what the doctor ordered on those mornings that find one desiring to get up-and-at-'em, but unable to muster the will to make it past the nightstand. Never mind the caffeine – it is the vibrant personality of this coffee that will befriend any adventurous soul in need of a little jolting.

Stumptown Organic Indonesia Gajah Aceh

Type: Organic Indonesia Gajah Aceh

Origin: Sumatra

Roaster: Stumptown Coffee Roasters

Varietals: Bourbon; Catimor; Jember; Typica

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

There is bucking norms, and there is bucking norms. You know what I mean. Some people are smashers, looking to destroy the order of things from within so that they can lie to the world and to themselves about the comparative worth of whatever it is that they have to bring to the table. Others seek not to tear down but to build up, to expand, to augment. Eager and sincere, they are careful not to destroy, at least not wantonly, but they have no qualms about forcing the status quo to engage in honest competition. This is, generally speaking, a good thing.

The folks at Stumptown Coffee Roasters are serious coffee people. They travel to all corners of the earth (literally) sourcing beans, roast them great, and have found much success doing so. What makes them different? They do not roast light, dark, or anywhere in between. It is a different approach entirely.

I was skeptical at first. "All our coffee is roasted for the coffee itself. It's not necessarily defined as light, medium, or dark," the gentleman in the store told me when I asked about what I was buying. It sounded like either new-age nonsense or he had no idea what he was talking about (or both). In actuality, he was being quite helpful: there, in a very neat nutshell, is Stumptown's approach.

It was described in more detail in an e-mail from Stumptown. "Our guide for roasting coffee is flavor," they explained. "Each coffee is roasted to bring out the aspects inherent in the bean which we would like to accentuate for the optimum drinking pleasure. We don't like to impart a fingerprint or a roast signature on the coffee. Instead, we prefer to highlight what makes that particular varietal or farm exciting."

I still did not quite get it. So they have different criteria than others when roasting the coffee. Surely once the bean is roasted it still fits into one or another roast profile - perhaps not the usual one, but one nonetheless? Indeed it does, in this case a medium-light. But to fixate on that is to miss the whole point in the first place. Yes, when the beans emerge from the machine they are roasted at a certain level. But that is a post-hoc observation only. Many roasters - most, I daresay - decide on a level of light, medium, or dark, set the roaster, and send the beans through. Stumptown does not care what hue of brown the beans end up. How long should this bean, of this variety, from this origin, be roasted? What flavors does it have? How can we maximize the good ones, marginalize the bad ones, and coax out some new ones? How long before some of them are lost? Can we adjust to make sure that the texture is just right? And so on and so forth.

So yes, the beans end up ochre or burnt-sienna or whatever. Big deal. They end up right. That is the point.

And indeed, the coffee is delightful. The organic Indonesia Gajah Aceh brews into a light brown liquid with a tinge of orange. It has a fruity, nutty aroma, but the palate is quite different: earthy, smoky, slightly bitter around the edges, and rather non-acidic. The coffee is on the thin side, but smooth and consistent, and it gets thicker on the finish as it goes down nice and easy.

It really does make the experience more special when I learn not just of a new coffee, but also a new thing about coffee. I suspect that the same is true for most coffee aficionados, so I encourage everyone to get a packet of Stumptown, and consider the unique mindset that went into roasting it while sipping the brew. It will not be a disappointment.

Equal Exchange Organic Full City Colombian

Type: Organic Full City Colombian

Origins: Colombia

Roaster: Equal Exchange

Roast: Full City Roast

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black 

Now here is a coffee with some spunk, a personality all its own. The last coffee reviewed has flavor notes of a dark roast and the body of a medium; in that sense, this is the inverse. It plays out quite wonderfully.

Equal Exchange claims that the Organic Full City Colombian is "complex & bright with citrus notes," and that promise was fulfilled immediately as I opened the bag and got a whiff of the beans. When the coffee is brewed, its aroma continues with the citric, fruity notes, and also acquires some earthy elements as well. The nose is light but pungent. The coffee is a dark brown, rich, not unlike the color of a chocolate lab I once knew. Light and buttery, the Full City Colombian is dominated mostly by floral notes, with a little bit of nuttiness. But around the edges, lest one were to forget that this is not at all a light roast (Full City is one notch toward dark after medium), there appear touches of smokiness, bitterness, roastedness. The finish repeats the light, citric, floral notes, which is really what form this coffee's heart and soul. 

The keyword here is light. This Full City Colombian is light in aroma, light in body, light in flavor, and light in finish. And yet, one does not get the experience of a light roast. It is, in fact, a dark roast, or at least medium-dark, and the aromatic grizzle that comes from roasting runs along the sides of the tongue every now and then to remind us of the fact. No, there is nothing subtle about this coffee. Its notes are lively, its flavor is bold, and its attitude is robust. And have I mentioned? It is delicious. 

This is not a coffee to mull over in the afternoon. It is good for getting oneself going. This is not in reference to the caffeine (which is at normal levels), but rather to the play of the flavor on the palate, to the air of spunk as the coffee frolics in the mouth and down the throat, all of which manifests a rather contagious strain of get-up-and-go that will inhabit the host and work wonders in stirring the mind and body onward with whatever situation may be at hand.

Buenos Días Dixon Blend Coffee

Type: Organic Buenos Días Dixon Blend

Origins: Nicaragua Segovia 50%; Timor 50%

Roaster: Taos Roasters Coffee

Roast: Medium-Dark

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

Taos Roasters Coffee is a roasting house that takes special pride in the high-altitude environment in which it roasts the coffee. What difference could the elevation make? According to their website, "Taos' high-altitude setting [approx. 7500ft], with its lower barometric pressure and lower boiling point, reduces the risk of scorching and preserves all of the beans' subtleties and complexities, maximizing the flavor and aroma." That sounds likely enough on the surface, though a skeptical consumer might like some proof. Good news, skeptics: I have had such proof in the form of their Buenos Días Dixon blend.

The beans have a winey aroma to them. After they brew in the press, the liquid is a delightful chocolate brown in color. The coffee offers a fruity and floral nose. It is a little smokey, but not earthy. The aroma, though not spicy, hits with a bit of pungency. Then, when I sipped it, the first thing I wrote down was, "Now we're getting down to business." The coffee, evidently having used up all of its flora in the nose, emits earthy notes onto the tongue with a vague air of bitterness. I searched for hints of fruit - none. I searched for hints of florals - nope. I searched for hints of nuttiness - nuh-uh. So, what does it taste like? Coffee. It is smooth, medium-bodied, with very low acid, and it tastes quite quintessentially like coffee. There is some nuttiness in the finish - an earthy nuttiness.

At first, before reading Taos Roasters Coffee's notes on elevation, I hypothesized that Buenos Días Dixon is a medium-dark roast, noting that the tasting notes are similar to a dark but the body is just not quite exaggerated enough for it to be a full dark. And indeed, I have received confirmation from the kind folks at the TRC that it is considered a medium-dark. But the Nicaragua Segovia is at 38 on the Agtron scale and the Timor is at 40, making this coffee almost as reasonably called a dark roast as anything else. How can something be roasted at an average of 39 and still have the aroma and structure of something close to a 50? The altitude clarifies everything. The earthy, bitter flavor demonstrates a dark roast, but without the concomitant scorching, the body is able to maintain a level of modesty. The flavor is solid without being off-the-wall. The bitterness is an air and not a center piece. In other words, one gets the benefits of darkly roasted flavor without the drawback of having to sip what in extreme cases can seem like coffee syrup.

Brilliant.

Organic Peruvian Coffee

Type: Single Origin Organic Peruvian

Origin: Peru, South America

Purveyor: McNulty’s

Roast: Uncertain, seemingly dark

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

In its catalogue, McNulty’s describes the organic Peruvian coffee thusly: “smooth body, low acidity”. Four little words, and it already sounds like all I have ever asked for in a coffee. Even better: It lives up to all of the hype.

The coffee has a bold, nutty aroma, specifically that of chestnuts. The aroma also has undertones split between the earthy and the acidic. The notes of acid vanish upon sipping, however, and we are left with a slightly earthy, mostly nutty cup of coffee. (Whereas the nose detects chestnuts in particular, the tongue definitely detects peanuts instead.) It has a medium body, and the flavor is certainly robust: nothing light or subtle here. The flavor is not bitter, but nor is it even remotely fruity or floral or sweet or tart. I can only think to describe it as a savory sensation, but of nutty, earthy delights instead of the fleshy foods more commonly associated with that word. There is not much texture to the finish, but a ghost of the flavor remains, not at all unpleasantly, beckoning the sipper to g’won and have some more.

Much as with the Sumatra Mandheling reviewed earlier, the roast of the organic Peruvian from McNulty’s is not certain. However, I would venture to guess that it is a dark roast. The tones are smooth, rich, and profound, not airy and jumpy and all over the place like a yippy dog as with lighter roasts. The feel of the flavor is definitely that of a darkly roasted coffee.

About the organic-ness: I am a recent convert to the organic foods movement. The bottom line is, it is much healthier in important ways. But as with any person engaged in any type of health or dietary situation, I am prone to allowing myself exceptions. (In other words, I cheat.) When it comes to my wine, coffee, tea, and spirits, I am very concerned about how the quality might be affected with the focus being shifted from growing the right plants in the right soil to make the right beverage, towards, well, anything else at all, including organic certification. Therefore, I have always tended to avoid such organic beverages. But I am very glad to report that there has not been any apparent sacrifice in quality at all with this organic Peruvian coffee. It tastes like coffee should taste, and if nobody had told me that it is organic, then I never would have imagined that anything other than growing delicious coffee was on the farmers’ minds.

In fact, I think that this coffee has – after one cup, no less – made me amenable to venturing towards other organic beverages as well. I will not make organic certification (or any similar criterion) an absolute requirement, of course, but organic stuff is now granted full access to my shelf. I have been shown that quality need not be a sacrifice.

Get yourself a cup of this delicious coffee today, and enjoy!