9 Bars
Exploring Origins in Your Blend
by Kyle Larson, Stumptown Coffee Roasters, Portland, Ore.

Mad dogs and baristi: the author dissects a blend at home. Photo by Stephen Vick

Would you like to try a single-origin shot?" I say to the sleepy-eyed gentleman awaiting his morning caffeination on the other side of the counter. "Today I'm featuring Kenya, and I think it would go great with your cappuccino." He slowly lifts his head and meets my eyes with a puzzled look. "What's a single-origin shot?" he asks.
   Well, of course some explanation is needed, I think to myself. If I were a Web designer or a doctor simply on my morning commute to work and some barista had sprung this offer with foreign terminology, I would also raise my eyebrow in question.
   "A single-origin shot is a shot of espresso consisting of one coffee from one growing region in the world," I say. "In a standard espresso blend, there are usually a variety of coffees from a variety of growing regions around the world. However, some of these coffees are so complex on their own that they work well as a stand-alone espresso without all of the other origins. This morning I chose to feature Kenya because it has been the baristi's favorite lately."
   "They grow coffee in Kenya?" the man asks.
   "Um, yeah, they do," I say patiently, teeth gritted, still smiling in the hope that I can show this guy a good time with a little bit of African magic. "It's one of the most highly regarded coffee exporters in the world."
   "Yeah, that sounds good," he finally answers.
   My eyes light up with excitement-I may have a coffee aficionado in the making! As I grind and dose, the sweet smell of the ground Kenyan beans drifts into my nostrils. Then, as my fingers begin leveling the particles of fresh coffee, he adds, "Could you throw some caramel syrup in the cappuccino? Actually, throw some chocolate sauce in there, too!"
   I acquiesce to defeat. All of the brilliance and complexity the Kenyan has to offer are now being drowned out by the expansive armies of excessive sugar invading the cup. The cappuccino is passed across the counter to the young professional about to make his way into the world, hopped on caramel and chocolate, unaware of the flavor journey he just denied himself. He takes a sip of the "sugared" cappuccino, looks up at me. My eyes hang low in defeat. His sympathy for a passionate barista trying to share a great verse in the gospel of espresso is obvious. But in trying to help, he only makes it worse.
   "Hey, this Kenyan coffee is pretty good," he blurts, and then heads out of the door and out of my life.
   Coffee is not an easy topic to explain, to anyone. The journey of the bean-from sprouting in volcanic soil under a warm humid sun to the picking and processing of the cherry, to the second crack in the iron drum of a roaster and percolating in a cup-is ultimately about the flavor of the bean. Whether in a cupper's spoon or a porcelain demitasse, I have discovered that the passion thriving within our international coffee community is fueled by a quest to understand the flavor. This is a mission that is not at all taken lightly by anyone seeking out the "perfect cup."
   Let me make one thing very clear: I do not believe in the "perfect cup," and if it is out there after all, I hope I never find it. This may sound absurd, and perhaps it is. But while tasting different coffees from growing regions the world around has perked my interest in the possibility of there being a "perfect cup," and gives me a desire to seek it out, ultimately it is the search that will keep me in coffee for life. The best part about this search is discovering the tastes my palette deciphers as good and negative when I sip my morning French press or espresso.
   As a barista, I feel it is an honored responsibility to deliver such an amazingly complex commodity as coffee. Most baristi would tell you the same thing. Once you start digging past the surface of why a good shot of espresso tastes the way it does a realization hits that this is not a tin-can of grounds to be taken lightly; it is a delicate art of preparation, making sure all the factors are balanced for that one sip of harmony in taste that will bring you and those you serve it to back. In this service, I do feel it is important for the barista to educate themselves about why a blend of espresso may taste the way it does.
   This brings me back to the point I am trying to make in our short time here together on these pages: There is nothing better you can be doing than exploring the origins in your blend. By digging a little bit past the surface of what is sitting in the bean hopper on your grinder you can gain the knowledge and the confidence to serve your customers (and yourself) a fantastic cup of coffee. In the past four years of being a barista, from Montana to Seattle, Wash. I have not found anything more rewarding in knowledge than attending cuppings and single-origin shot parties with other people just as hungry to understand good coffee's nuances. These are the best ways I have found to explore the blend I use in the café where I work.
   Cupping is the most accessible tool for coffee evaluation. I do this at home almost every Sunday night. It is a universal means of evaluating coffee, universal because, everyone from the farmers to the baristi tastes coffee by means of cupping. Most roasters and green coffee buyers use this more or less as a tool to control consistency in their product, a somewhat dry definition. I have yet to meet a roaster or coffee buyer who describes it in such bland terms. The rapid slurp from a cupping spoon, allowing the aromatics of the coffee to spread over your tongue by means of oxygen and moisture, gives you a picture of how this coffee has developed.
   At home, my roommate often finds me covering our counter top with four different origins of coffee, slurping and spitting away, jotting down notes like a mad scientist. Each Sunday it's usually different coffees than the previous Sunday (or any other coffees I may have cupped with my co-workers during the week). Sometimes I focus on one origin, sometimes it's "Around the World in 40 Minutes" and other times it's dissecting a blend. It's all a joy to me and I'm sure it will be to you. Everyone has his or her own way of cupping. From William Ukers to Kenneth Davids to Mark Prince, there is plenty of information on the process of set-up, in literature and online. Talk to your roasters and find out if you can get a spot at their weekly (or daily) cuppings. I imagine they will be ecstatic to have you.
   Now, there is a more adventurous and complicated way of experiencing growing origins, and that is the single-origin espresso. You remember the anecdote regarding my "chocolate-caramel-cappuccino" friend and the Kenyan coffee he murdered with his sweet tooth? Kenya, pulled as a single-origin espresso, reminds me of eating chocolate truffles accompanied by some fine Italian red wine: a rich, fruity coffee balanced with every good aspect of sweet I could ever ask for. Experimenting with single-origin shots allows the barista to see the reasons why their blend tastes the way it does. You can explore all the realms: the base, the acidity, the body and the sweetness.
   This topic has come up time and time again, wherever and whenever I meet baristi. This past September in Portland, Ore., Stumptown Coffee Roasters hosted a single-origin party. We sampled different origins roasted by Stumptown and Intelligentsia of Chicago. It was such a great communal experience to hear everyone unearthing their passion for good coffee as shots of origins made their way through Stumptown's cupping room. Faces lit up at the first sip of a shot that maybe they had never thought of as making a good espresso. Everyone agreed at the end of the first morning, our heads spinning around us somewhere on the level of an ethereal caffeine buzz, that this is yet another amazing tool in understanding not only your espresso blend, but the great tastes coffee has to offer.
   Throughout the coffee industry, there are always people seeking out good coffee or ways to make good coffee better. Today, as the culture of the barista seems to be accelerating in gigantic leaps and bounds, with competitions and new technologies, we cannot take our eyes off of the prize: the coffee. Appreciating every bit of hard work that goes into making a good cup of coffee for a customer should be on the forefront while standing behind an espresso machine. This industry will continue to grow in the right direction as long as we make this about the coffee.
   "Hey, are you still serving that Kenyan coffee?" a familiar voice says to me. I look up to see everyone's favorite "chocolate-caramel-cappuccino" drinker.
   "Yeah," I say in an unenthusiastic tone. Today, I am not going to be let down. "Would you like the same as yesterday?"
   "Well, I read some stuff online about Kenyan coffee," he says. "I never knew that coffee is grown all over the world. I thought it all came from Brazil and Colombia. I was wondering if I could just try a shot of it. I hear it's good."
   My eyes light up like those of a 16-year-old girl on prom night. He has come back to me! By just dropping a small piece of information that some coffee comes from Kenya-I got "Joe Consumer" here to scratch the surface and learn a little bit more about my passion.
   "Sure, it will be right up," I say. The usual steps unfold and in a few moments I hand the gentleman his introduction to great coffee in a small demitasse. He takes a few sips, still standing at the counter.
   "Wow, it's really good," he says. "I never knew coffee could taste like this."
   "Glad to hear it," says the satisfied barista in me. "Stop by tomorrow, I'll have East Timor on tap."
   And the coffee goes on.