How to Make a Great Cup of Coffee
I like coffee. If you know me, you know this. Some think it was
chance or coincidence that I married a girl who lived on a coffee farm, but I
know what was really going on: Divine Intervention. Being married to Angela, a
true coffee baroness, has given me a chance to see up-close and personal where
my tasty black drink comes from. About a year ago, near the beginning of the
coffee harvest of 2006 (around December), she and I walked in the coffee fields,
and I can now give you the definitive guide of How to Make a Great Cup of
Coffee.
Enjoy.
A coffee plant: plain, innocuous, and deliciousness in
waiting.
When the coffee beans turn red, it's time to pick them. Here
is Ligia, a sister-in-law and record-holding picker, kicking some coffee plant
ass.
By the way, if you noticed in the first picture, only some of
the beans are red, others are still green, and still others are in a
transitional stage. That is what makes coffee picking meticulous, and why it is
best picked by hand, and not by machines. It is also why good coffee needs to be
picked in various stages, with pickers making about three or four passes
throughout a harvest.
Angela demonstrating a mature coffee bean. Fun fact: Contrary
to what I had imagined, a coffee "bean" in Spanish is not called a frijol
(bean), but rather a cereza (cherry)...Or, maybe not. Now, Angela's
telling me that they call them "granos," but in any case, they sure do
look like cherries.
The inside of a coffee bean. The white part is what we know as
the bean, and the outer red shell will be discarded in the refinement process.
One half of a coffee bean, removed from the outer casing.
Here I am "picking coffee"; like a smarmy politician kissing
babies, rest assured dear readers: this was only a photo opportunity, and the
author was not harmed nor dirtied while posing for this picture. To the right of
me is my brother-in-law Ronald, who actually picked all the coffee in the
basket. (Note: due to my authentic Canada hat--bought in the CN Tower, no
less--all the Nicaraguan workers were whispering that I was from Canada. I'm
happy to do anything I can to ruin the collective reputation of Canada and bring
the Canucks down a notch or two).
They even make special kid-sized baskets for picking coffee.
Here is my niece Yoselin demonstrating hers. Just don't tell the
anti-child-labor activists.
Various times throughout the work day, the workers empty their
baskets into burlap sacks, which are eventually collected and measured at the
end of the afternoon.
Essential Step for a Good Cup of Coffee: having cute kids hang
out with your coffee. In this picture is my niece Yoselin (in hat) and Tatiana,
the daughter of a family who came here from Nicaragua to pick coffee.
The end of the day: the workers bring their sacks to a truck,
where the coffee is measured in black boxes called cajuelas. 'Round these
parts, Ligia holds the record for the number of cajuelas picked in a day,
somewhere right around 41 or 42.
Ronald emptying cajuelas into the bed of the truck that
his family uses.
Brotherly cooperation: Arnoldo dumps the coffee into the truck
as Ronald makes room for more and more.
My father-in-law Honorio, handing out chips that represent a
certain number of cajuelas picked. Every employer has his or her...OK,
let's be honest, HIS own chips to distinguish them from other coffee farmers'
chips. At the end of the week, all the pickers come to Honorio's house to trade
their chips in for money. Kind of like a caffeinated casino...with, you know,
work.
Some of Honorio's chips: H.J.V. stands for Honorio Jiménez
Vásquez.
At the end of each day, the pickups drop their wares into
storage houses like the one above.
Here is one of the workers from the co-op releasing beans from
a pickup into a measuring container. The thing at his hips is a container that
measures a fanega, which is the size of 10 cajuelas. I think.
The worker slides the fanega container back and
releases the coffee through a grate. From there, it goes into the holding bay or
the large truck waiting below, if it has already arrived.
When a farmer has deposited all his coffee, the worker takes a
collection of random samples from the whole truck and gives the batch a
percentage rating, which is based on the amount of red coffee against the amount
of green coffee. The lower the percentage of green coffee, the better, and the
better the farmer is paid for his haul.
The same day, a larger dump truck-sized truck comes to the
lower level, where the coffee is dropped into the truck's cargo area. Then, the trucks head out to...
...The beneficio. The beneficios are the
facilities where the coffee is shelled, roasted, and ground. In some plants,
like the Coopepalmares pictured above, selected coffee is shelled and then dried
in the sun, to give it a more agreeable final flavor. The rest of the coffee
that is not dried in the sun is dried in a more modern, speedy way: giant
roasters inside the beneficio.
Here is a picture of the machine inside the beneficio
that removes the outer shell from the coffee.
A close-up of some sexy, naked white beans laying out and
tanning in the sun.
Another Essential Step for Tasty Sun-Dried Coffee: Hire some
poor schlupp to walk back and forth all day, raking your coffee.
Inside the beneficio's tasting room: in Angela's hand
we can see some unroasted normal coffee, and in the tray behind her hand we see
the unroasted sundried coffee (at Coopepalmares, the brand variety is called
Solariego). To the right you can see a bit of the roasted beans, which are
roasted right in the room, and later ground (on left).
The roasting machines. Obviously, these are only for the
sampling rooms...the machines for the processing plant are much larger than a
car.
Spit or swallow? Here, the former is the better choice for
employees as they test the different of batches of coffee for the day. A
roasted, ground sample of each batch is put into the white cups, and boiling
water is added. After brewing a few minutes, the workers try each batch for
consistency and quality, and to eliminate any shitty coffee (ie, the Maxwell
House grade stuff). They spit because otherwise they'd be eating coffee grounds.
This is my dream job. Seriously. I'm currently trying to work
an in-law hook-up here at the Co-op, although I do hear that the pay sucks. No
matter; with bowl after bowl of free soup, who would I be to complain?
What makes the beneficios great: Big Machines Doing Stuff. I
think this particular machine was removing extra shells or debris from the dried
coffee.
Here is the giant shelling machine pouring out the shelled
coffee. I think it's kinda cool that it looks like two people standing side by
side.
My father-in-law Honorio holding a shelled sample (his right
hand) and an unshelled sample (his left hand). After that, the coffee is roasted
in the furnaces.
Proof that coffee is a gift from God: the in-warehouse Holy
Trinity statue.
Later on...
Remember, I told you the purpose of this page is to help you
make yourself a great cup of coffee. So, after you do all the stuff in the steps
above, you need to bring some roasted or ground beans to your kitchen. If you
have your own home grinder, you are definitely a good person. Or at least a
yuppie. In any case, it tastes best fresh grounded, so do it! (In this picture
is Cecilia, my mother-in-law, starring as Woman With Coffee Grinder).
The last step: Enjoy!
(This is Angela Rosa de los Angeles Jiménez Mora de Sitzman in the picture...yes,
the Angela Rosa de los Angeles Jiménez Mora de Sitzman.)