Zen And The Art Of Roasting Coffee

Living, as I do, in Java (itself a slang name for coffee) and just a short jump from Sumatera, home of one of the legendary coffees of the world, I decided it was high time to roast my own. I was also motivated by my deep and abiding hatred for Starbucks and those California cutsie chains that are not only taking over the world, but sell more political agendas than coffee.

My wife and I have decided to get into the business of selling raw, green coffee as part of our online empire. We have a plan to retire to our mountain retreat and spend our feeble years running a business on the internet while living well outside the madding crowd of over-dense cities.

We found several very good sources of raw coffee from Bali, Java and Sumatera, and we received enormous bags full of samples, ranging from mountain Robusta and Arabica beans, to the precious Kopi Luwak that sells for up to a few thousands dollars per kilo.

Having never done it before, I was a bit intimidated at the prospect of learning to roast coffee. What with all the mystique and legend built up around the little greenish-white beans, I figured this must be some occult ritual that required years of training and perfect alignment of the Heavens.

I was wrong.

If you've ever popped corn before, you can roast coffee. Yes, there are some timing issues and you have to pay close attention to the process, but you certainly don't have to be a magi to do it. There is a learning curve, but it is blissfully short and with a little practice, you can have the precise coffee you want every morning, fresher than anything you will EVER get from a store front, and the flavor of self-satisfaction is unmistakable and oh-so-sweet.

To roast coffee beans, I use a very high-tech and mystical device called a pan. It is vital to have a heat source, so I use an incredibly up-to-date propane stove. Turn the stove on to medium, throw a couple of handfuls of beans into the pan, shake it around for about 5 minutes, and POOF!

OK, it's a little more delicate than that, but not much.

First, DO NOT use oil or water, just beans. Second, anything that can make popcorn can roast coffee. If you use one of those hot-air poppers, though, remember that the fan noise can mask the "crack" sound, the importance of which will become apparent in a moment.

There are two important events during the roasting process that are vital to the outcome:

First Crack: at around the 3-5 minute mark, you will hear the distinct sound of the beans popping, just like popcorn. Again like popcorn, it will start with one or two pops, and then pick up speed. This is a critical moment. For lighter roasts, you will stop when the cracking stops. If you want darker roasts, you will go a few SECONDS to 1 MINUTE longer, until...

Second Crack: this time, it's not so much of a "pop" noise as as "sizzle" noise. If you go this far, stop immediately or you will be drinking charcoal water for breakfast.

Anything past the light roast phase is somewhat of an art form. Knowing precisely when to stop to get the exact level of roast you want is a trial-and-error process. Because each reader will use different equipment, live at different altitudes, et cetera, you will want to get a "feel" for how much longer past First Crack you want to go.

Lighter roasts give you a "smoother" flavor because the beans retain more of their natural sugars and starches, making the result a bit more naturally sweeter. This is the point of peak caffeine, as well, which for some of us is a major concern.

Darker roasts take on a more "full bodied" flavor, but also get increasingly bitter. They also get oilier, which some folks don't like.

Back to the process.

Once you decide to stop the roast, you will need to get the beans out of the heat and onto a cooling surface. This can be a cookie sheet, spread-out newspaper, or a wok like the one I use. The point is to cool the beans quickly by maximizing the airflow around them.

I suggest doing this outside, as the roasting process causes an ash-like chaff to burn off the beans. Coffee beans, like peanuts, have a skin on them that turns to burn-paper like ash when cooked. Rolling them around on the cooling surface and lightly blowing will remove the chaff and aid in cooling.

You're not quite ready to grind, though. The roasted beans will out-gas CO2 for up to 24 hours after roasting, and it's important to get rid of the gas for the best result. After cooling, I usually put the beans in a Tupperware container with an air-tight seal, but don't snap it all the way shut overnight. That will allow the gas to escape while retaining as much of the essential oils as possible, giving you the best results.

When I'm ready to use the roasted beans, I take only as much as I need, leaving the rest whole. You may not care, but I figure this preserves the essential oils and flavor better over time.

One note here: if you are roasting coffee because you think it will fill your house with the mouth-watering smell of fresh coffee, forget it. The smell is more like burnt sugar or chocolate, and it can be rather smoky and unpleasant in unventilated spaces. I like the smell, but it is entirely an individual thing. About an hour after you cool the beans, the familiar coffee aroma will start wafting through your humble abode.

That's it! You are now an amateur coffee roaster. With experience, you could rise to the level of Master and speak in mystical tones about the occult aspects and techniques that you have acquired. You could even get into the art of blending beans and roasts to get that Ultimate Cuppa Java. Until you get the hang of it, though, I wouldn't jump right into the Kopi Luwak that you just paid US$300/pound for.

In the past few years, there's been a green coffee fad with all sorts of magical health claims made about it. Personally, I think if it were that healthy, it wouldn't have taken several thousand years to figure it out, but that's up to you. Additionally, I don't particularly like the flavor, but again, that's entirely up to you.

My wife prepares it by taking the whole green beans, putting them in a glass container, and adding warm - but not hot or boiling - water. You must then let it set as least 24 hours and strain the liquid into a glass. She tries to get me to drink a glass of it every day for the anti-oxidants and other health y stuff, but I am hard-pressed to do so when I have piles of glorious hand-roasted beans just waiting for my loving attention.

Depending on your needs or tastes, having a supply of green coffee beans on hand can provide hours of palette-stirring excitement, both for the rich flavors and from the satisfaction of knowing you are far more talented than any Starbucks barista, and don't need fanciful foreign titles to make the job appear to justify the bloated prices.

If you want this glorious feeling of achievement every morning to start your day, then contact us at Radio Far Side (luap.jkt@gmail.com use Subject "Coffee") to get prices and shipping times for some of the most sought-after beans in the world, delivered directly to your door from Indonesia.

Soon, you will be serving premium, hand-roasted coffee to your guests at Maxwell House prices, and blowing them away with flavor, aroma and delicacy. Imagine the story you can tell them when they invariably ask, "Where did you get this coffee?"

Keep an eye on our D-Tube channel for a coming real-time (yes, it's that fast) how-to video for roasting your own coffee.

Paradise Tossed

Yayaya, I know I'm about 14 hours getting today's post up, but I have a doctor's excuse.

My wife and I are in Bali for four days of peace and relaxation, which means neither.  At this very moment, we are trying to contact my daughter who occasionally works in an area of Jakarta that is in chaos at the moment from a terrorist attack earlier today.

Furthermore, today we had a 5.7 earthquake in Bali, though you could flog me with a sharp stick and I swear we felt nothing.  I didn't even know until just now when I checked the Quake-O-Meter on my desktop.

Furthermore, Tuesday is Nyepi, which is a high holy day among Hindu where no one can work, cook, use tools or appliances, lights, etc.  That means we are flying out Monday night before the island shuts down for 24 hours.

The concern is that Muslims and Hindu has been fighting for centuries because Muslim don't like anyone who worships multiple gods, much less their god.  We are planning a night of fun and frolic in Legian, which is the Occident's version of New Orleans' French Quarter.  It's the site of the 2002 Bali bombings.  Most people think it was an attack on tourists and foreigners.  Not so.  It was an attack on the fact that the Hindu section of Indonesia gets more attention and money than the Muslim section.

At any rate, we are staying at the Novotel Resort in Nusa Dua and having a fantastic time.  This morning, we went to the included breakfast buffet, where I gorged myself on PORK!  That's right, I ate pork sausage, bacon, rashers, pork roast, and all the friggin' pork I could find.

Tonight, we went to the local supermarket and bought four kilos of pork.  We bought pork sausages, pork bacon, pork rashers, smoked ham, more ham, and a bit of ham just for good measure.

Unless you live in a predominantly Muslim country, you might not understand this obsession with PORK.

In Jakarta, it is very hard to find pork, and when you can, it is very expensive and the selection is miserable.  There are three locations in Indonesia which are pork-friendly: Manado (Sulawesi), Medan (Sumatera) and Bali, because the majority of the residents are either Christian or Hindu.

Tonight's excursion into Denpasar confirmed three of my defining characteristics: I hate religion, I hate crowds and I hate shopping.

Yes, I'm a hater and I am damn friggin' proud of it (he says juiced to the gills on London Dry Gin, which can be purchased at the local grocery store at reasonable prices in Hinduland).

I hate religion because it sets large groups of people on a collision course with each other.  The Hindu believe that Vishnu destroys the Universe on occasion to start over.  The Muslims believe that they will conquer the Earth and bring on the 12th Imam.  The Christians believe that the Anti-Christ will destroy the Earth before Christ comes again (and they are trying to help).  The Jews believe they must subjugate the Earth and destroy all non-believers before their Messiah comes.

Doesn't anyone believe in a Paradise of our own making?  Oh yeah, the Buddhists.

Basically, three-quarters of the people on Earth are trying to destroy it in order to prove their religion is true.  Friggin' idiots.

Then there's crowds.  I hate crowds.  I hate that I can't trust anyone.  I hate that I am forced to assume that everyone who bumps into me just stole something from me.  I hate that people have all the manners and social graces of a pen full of swine.  I hate that if someone panics in a crowd, the entire bunch of them will mow down anything in front of them to get away from...whatever spooked them - flashing lights, muffler backfire, pure imagination.

And then there's shopping.  I friggin' despise shopping.  I hate jostling with other humans to get a handful of PORK.  I hate comparing prices.  I hate looking at expiration dates.  I hate the whole friggin' experience.

I believe that for the right price, anyone will deliver anything to wherever I am sitting at the moment - for the right price.  In Indonesia, the right price is just about right.  Why should I get mauled and suffer horrible bouts of paranoia and have to touch other people I don't know and don't want to know, when for a few extra bux, I can ask someone else to do it who actually likes that kind of shit.

Basically, I am a misanthrope living in one of the most densely populated cities on Earth who hates crowds, other people's beliefs and opinions, and having to worry about someone else's sensibilities.

You know what?  You don't like PORK, don't buy it and don't eat it.  Screw you for trying to keep me from eating it.  You don't like alcohol?  Screw you.  I do.  I'm going to have a drink and I will breathe on you if you don't like it.  You don't like privilege?  Go shove it in your sphincter.  I work my ass off for a few extra bux to take my wife on holiday in a tropical paradise that is two hours of flying time from my house.  I really don't care what color you think I am or whether you think I have some privileges that others don't.

I work for them.

Oh yeah, apparently today was Earth Day.  You know what?  Screw Earth Day.  Screw the people who dimmed my lights for an hour in pretense of saving the Earth.  Screw anyone who has a heart beat who thinks they can do anything but kill themselves to save the Earth.

If you are breathing, you are killing something to live.  If you are a vegan and think you are doing something special to save live...screw you.  You kill plants, I kill animals.  Same friggin' difference.  If you are a vegetarian, double screw you, because you are killing some animals thinking you are doing something good for the world.

In the end, I am a misanthrope because I am fed up to my gills with hypocrisy.  No one can live a perfect life or save anything but themselves or believe in anything that doesn't destroy something else.

And that's what I've learned from staying in a tropical paradise for four days.

Oh, by the way, there's an incredible electrical storm tonight - no rain, just lightning.  I'm enjoying it from my privileged porch in my privileged suite in my privileged resort that I worked 18 months to be able to enjoy.  I don't give a flying f%%k what color you think I am (bright pink after a day on my privileged private beach), I earned this vacation and no amount of liberal whining is going to diminish my enjoyment.

By the way, four days in Bali is only costing me $300, if my wife will stop spending money on PORK.

When I lived in Texas, I was hours away from Big Bend.  When I lived in Dublin, I was hours away from Sugar Loaf Mountain.  When I lived in Barcelona, I was hours away from San Tropez.  When I lived in Munich, I was hours away from the Schwartzwald.  Now I live in Jakarta and I'm just hours away from Bali.

The point is, we are all just hours away from Paradise.  All we need to do is realize it when we are there.