Why Not Great Coffee?

For the vast majority of coffee consumers, coffee is first and foremost a form of fuel. It’s not expected to taste very good unless it’s hidden inside several hundred calories of added fat and sugar. At best it’s seen as a warm and comforting fix, a frequent ritual, an addictive excuse to step away from the cubicle (not unlike cigarettes).

So assuming we’re willing to agree that coffee can taste good – properly prepared and largely unadulterated (and I’ll insist that it can) – why don’t more folks drink good coffee? At the risk of this turning into a rant, I’ll outline a few notions after the jump and solicit your theories.

The familiar
Like the proverbial frog in the kettle of boiling water, people acclimate to all sorts of mediocrity. One look at the state of popular culture or our government proves that. The thing you drink every day becomes a habit, a custom – all the more so because it happens to be physically addictive.

Too much misinformation
The giant megacorps ply their trade by finding ever more clever ways to turn the cheapest grade coffee beans into something they can market as gourmet. “Fresh roasted” doesn’t fit their business model, nor does “artisan roasting” nor does “paying farmers a living wage” or “sourcing excellent coffees”. A mind-numbing array of opaque brands, absurd packaging options, and fictitious claims fill the aisles and the airwaves. Educated customers most certainly don’t fit their business model.

A good cup is hard to find
In some parts of the country just finding coffee that was brewed within the hour and isn’t horribly weak or tasting of cardboard is a challenge. And what passes for espresso in many shops should have you calling a hazmat team. You can’t long for great coffee if you’ve never gotten close to it.

The landscape of low expectations
Given how bad to mediocre most coffee is, its no surprise that when your neighbor Dave pulls out some oily, dark-roasted Kona blend from his freezer that he picked up at the airport in Hawaii last year, it seems like the summit has been reached. Any cup that doesn’t taste like battery acid, wet dog, or licking an ashtray can start to seem good if thats all you’ve ever had.

The technical hurdle
This is the piece that most of my posts here so far have focused on. Coffee brewing is a very simple process made unnecessarily difficult by bad and overpriced equipment. An old hand-cranked Zassenhaus grinder and a kettle of hot water can give you a cup of cowboy coffee that would beat the pants and undies off just about any fancier gear, given the right beans. But hand crank grinding is an inconvenience and good burr grinders come with some sticker shock. The array of pricey bell’d and whistle’d coffee brewers that still stumble at the basic task of giving your coffee grounds a dose of the right temperature water is saddening.

The issue of price
The truth is great coffees don’t cost significantly more at retail than most mediocre coffees. Compare the price per ounce of the stale, factory roasted, “gourmet”, commodity grade arabica lining the grocery store shelves with that of fresh roasted, ethically sourced coffee from one of the more prestigious North American microroasters. As Mark Pendergrast points out in his recent Wine Spectator article, even the most expensive beans you can buy still yield a per cup cost of only $2.50.

The snob factor
In spite of great coffee being priced within reach, to many it still carries repellently highfalutin airs. Some of it comes from the way many coffee companies have marketed their wares, applying slapdash the language of exclusivity and connoisseurship. Some of it is spillover from the preciousness of the Star*ucks menu with its made up euro terminology or the now unshakable cultural association of lattes with stereotypical yuppiedom.

“Comic book guy” syndrome
For those of us on the fringe of the fringe of this giant industry, participants in what some are calling the third wave of coffee, there is a real danger of coming off as arrogant. Both professionals and coffee geeks alike walk a fine line when pimping unique coffees or dispensing advice. Stepping over that line into “comic book guy” territory seems irresistible to some – the language of expertise falling easily from the tongue regardless of the level of knowledge. The subjective nature of taste has to be given consideration, avoiding confusing peculiar personal preferences with gospel truths.

It’s hard not to come off like a zealot when you’ve been touched in the swimsuit area by the coffee angel. In another long-winded future post I hope to better communicate what underpins my enthusiasm for this taken-for-granted beverage (though I’d really prefer to just make you all a cup of great coffee). I hope my writing here this week comes off more as a walkthrough and cheat codes for the coffee levels I’ve already beaten than merely a lot of coffee pedantry.

What’s not to love about great coffee (asks the coffee obsessive)? I’d like to hear your thoughts.