Quality Control.
Today I was served a terribly disappointing cup of coffee.
I’ve been served bad coffee before, and I’m sure I will again. We, as Londoners, are surrounded by the stuff. Cheap greasy spoons with industrial-sized tins of instant, Costa Coffee and Caffe Nero mimicking the rituals and techniques of espresso production, but handing over poorly and carelessly constructed abominations — this I understand, and as you also should, discount completely.
Their coffee is not relevant. They’re not in it for the same reasons we are, right? Right.
So with this in mind, I’m left to wonder, what kind of steps ought roasters and retailers be taking to ensure that public perception of them is separated from the dross? Obviously, combined function roaster/retailers are in the driving seat. They import their greens, roast them to their own specs, then serve the resulting drinks in the manner that they deem best. What an ideal position to be in as a retailer — totally in control of as many post-harvest elements as possible, and serving to customers their best possible offerings.
So how then, does one end up with as disappointing a cup of coffee as I was served today? On the staff’s recommendation, I ordered a particular coffee, and was truly surprised by the cup I received. I need not get into too finer a description of things, but suffice to say that the cup was beyond flat and lifeless, to flannel dryness (imagine sucking on the corner of a flannel shirt or sweater), and prolific notes of bagginess and dusty age.
Despite potentially papery dryness being resultant of an unrinsed filter, this was not a defect of brewing. There were no scathing, searing notes of either sourness or bitterness, the results of poor temperature control. I have no doubt that this coffee was simply too old.
Somewhere along the line, this coffee had been roasted, tasted and OK’ed for shop, sale and service, and I’m baffled as to how? Overstocked on last year’s crop, perhaps? Dedicated to keeping a Costa Rica on at all times? I’m not sure.
Then one other possibility occurred to me. Perhaps the people of London like it? Could it be that this coffee that I found nothing short of objectionable, and a very poor representation of what I understand to be clarity, sweetness and character, is in fact a representation of the desires of our consumer’s palate?
Quite possible, but I hope not. If so, we have a long road ahead of us, educating consumers on the simplest concepts of flavour, and revealing to them the potential that carefully handled, respectfully roasted, and duly considered coffee actually holds.
Worst case scenario, however, is that as coffee professionals in London, a very great many of us are as in-the-dark as the consumers theorised about above. The very real possibility exists that, the representatives of our industry, the everyday baristas and servers behind countless bars across London have only a marginally-better understanding of their product than those they are advising.
And that, I fear, is an even longer road for us to walk.
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POSTSCRIPT: Doug Zell has posted a challenge to roasters on this topic here.
Hi Tim,
Welcome back to the heady, high flying world of blogging, after what I understand was a bit of a hiatus.
I wanted to expand on your point about “Perhaps the people of London like it.”
And in turn the idea that with a little coaching, and some gentle nudging and just the right encouragement they would cross over into the discerning coffeephiles, that would do us coffee professionals proud. In turn, steering clear of any brew that has even a hint of past crop to it. Asking for their money back when served anything even slightly shy of a shimmering brew with balance and sweetness and….I could go on.
But I wonder if they don’t care in the way we want them to. They never will…and that is ok.
I remember reading a description of a tasting that Sir Hoffmann was involved in and the curious responses around the technically off cups or defective cups.
So much of coffee professionals discussion assumes that coffee drinkers are on a continuum of coffee knowledge. Today they know a little but that really they want to grow, continue to learn and blossom into discerning coffee savants.
I don’t think many people do and so have to wonder if we’re approaching them the right way. Offering the increased knowledge is a waste of time. More worrisome is that it becomes annoying, elitist and cerebral to people who although drink coffee, like coffee but just want a cup of coffee. End of story.
If we can’t serve coffee, without couching it in a little bit of the soft sell (boutique, small lot, high touch prep and gratuitous love applied to the brewing) to have it stand on it’s own merit and speak to the person drinking it, such that they are able, in all their ignorance and simpleness, to enjoy it and see it as good…we’ve got a problem.
I’d like to see a bit of a tempering in Specialty Coffee where, because we care, so must everyone else.
We have a long road to walk indeed.