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Site Directory General
Information COFFEE
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By Alan Knott-Craig Coffee is a beautiful thing. Drunk by homo sapiens throughout the known world, it is unique in that it has the ability to entertain you through times of painful boredom, as well as support you when trapped in high-pressure deadline situations! I take the liberty of describing myself as a coffee-voyeur: not a true disciple of the coffee-deities, but sufficiently attracted to the products of the ubiquitous brown bean to possess an insatiable curiosity for all its shapes and forms. To all those coffee fundamentalists out there who disagree with my conclusions, note that the principle of freedom of speech also applies to reading, and you may simply choose not to read these lines of drivel. Of course, if you are unfortunate enough to live in a country where such principles do not exist, ie: Zimbabwe, please feel free to rather spend your time intimidating voters and stealing land. Rob Bob before he robs you. This is an account of my coffee experiences in Cuba, Mexico, Peru & Chile. Also on the itinerary is New Zealand, Australia, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos and Indonesia, but those stories are in the future whereas we are firmly stuck in the present. Keep in mind that this is based upon my own experiences and uncultured palate, and no offence is meant to any bean, nation, or taxi-driver. To start out, I must provide some definitions: Cuppa
coffee: A standard cup of filter coffee with a dash of milk, and 1 sugar. Cuba: café doble espresso The dark brew of Cuba is outstanding, but only if you are partaking of the machine-made variety. The manually-brewed variety generally tastes like sweat off the leg of a dead donkey, but with much less kick. Always ask the waiter how the coffee is made, and if any confusion exists, physically inspect the machine to ensure no shenanigans. The beans appear to be locally grown (although the language barrier resulted in a lack of certainty in this matter), and there is no mixing of beans from other countries. Favourite amongst the locals is the famed double espresso. A common mistake made by the innocent gringo is to ask for "uno café" (for the mentally challenged that means "one coffee"), expecting a pleasant cuppa. Rookie error. Be prepared for an espresso guaranteed to put thick, greasy hair on your chest. Unless you are one of those afore-mentioned coffee fundamentalists and actually want more lovely tresses on your pectorals, always order "uno café con leche". Although this will expose you as a tourist and result in ridicule, it will ensure that you do manage to leave the land of cigars without going to the vet first.
This may be a controversial statement, but the less said about Mexican coffee, the better. Although dominated by the Arabica bean (acknowledged as the superior species of coffee), the local stuff, excuse the pun, leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Instant coffee is, the puns seem to be everywhere, the order of the day, sometimes being added to a mixture of lukewarm water and milk. You may come across the odd espresso machine, but the brown, tepid, virtually caffeine-free liquid produced by these monsters is a travesty to the coffee-making profession. Having said that, I did come across a coffee museum in San Cristobal, the coffee capital of Mexico. Very impressive and full of interesting information about the domestic industry, it should be commended for the initiative taken. Ironically, the museum guidebook actually ends with the line, "The Mexican coffee industry has recently suffered from severe fluctuations and deterioration in quality." This remark is conveniently proven by the distinctly crud-like coffee sold in the museum café. In Puerto Escondido, chill-out capital of the Caribbean, I was lucky enough to meet an Italian who owned his own coffee shop, Café Pacifico. He also gave me my first insight into why Italians are the uncontested masters of coffee-making. Its simple: They are BORN to it! It's a passion, and in the same way that "ze Germans" can't leave a book unaligned with the corner of the coffee table, the Italians just can't help making great caffeine receptacles. He also confirmed my fears as to the parlous state of Mexican coffee, the reason being, according to Pepe, that the beans are not graded properly. For those coffee novices out there, here's a quick rundown of how, in the coffee-world, size DOES count. Before the beans are prepared for roasting, they should be carefully sifted in order to ensure that only beans of the same size end up on the roasting tray. Should there be beans of varying sizes, then the smaller ones will cook faster and burn before the larger boys are finished. As a result, your carefully manufactured filter coffee ends up with an unpleasant bitter taste. According to Pepe, the secret to great coffee is to firstly, sort the beans carefully, and secondly, blend beans with complimentary flavours. In his opinion, no single bean is perfect and can be improved by adding the characteristics of other localities. To prove his point, he served the best cuppa this voyeur has ever had the pleasure of imbibing. A mix of Mexican and Guatemalan beans, it was delicious! So at least there is some purpose for the cultivation of coffee in this part of the world. It is with some disappointment that the Mexican beverage scores a lowly 5. Peru: café americano Caffeine-addiction is widespread here, the espresso once again being the most popular form of intake. The gringo-favourite cuppa is mysteriously referred to as Café Americano. The method of preparation is slightly unusual, in that you are served with a cold espresso and a jug of steaming milk, which you personally bring together in matrimony within the romantic confines of your mug. Seeing as Peru is situated so close to Columbia, Venezuela and Brazil, its not surprising that the local brew is of a very high standard. Strangely enough, there does not seem to be a distinct Peruvian taste to set it apart from other countries. It scores a tasty, but otherwise unremarkable 7.
This coffee is of the highest standard, although there seems to be some confusion as to the exact definition of café con leche. Some souls will serve you espresso with milk, others will serve equal parts espresso, water and milk, and some will even serve a cappuccino. There seems to be a total lack of experience in the preparation of an espresso topped up with hot water and a dash of milk. This, combined with the unfailingly haughty stares drilled into me every time I ordered "café con leche", caused an evolution of my tastes to the infinitely more acceptable and respectable "grande cortado" (aka: double espresso with equal part milk). The Santiagans also share the Italian pastime of stand-up coffee bars. I had the good fortune of befriending the owner of Café Nefertitis, a friendly old bugger who became virtually apoplectic in his efforts to introduce me to Chilean coffee. After ensuring that I would not be able to sleep for at least 3 nights, he explained that the favourite cuppa for the locals is known as a ristretto. A double espresso topped with frothed milk. For those interested, he's situated in front of the Manual Montt metro station. Overall, it seems to be a real coffee-culture. That is, until you move 1cm south of Santiago. Never has this voyeur had such consistently terrible wannabe concoctions. In the same way that the Catholic Church had no idea that the world was round (and strenuously resisted all such suggestions), the southern Chileans have never heard of filter coffee and religiously stick to Nescafe. So in conclusion, the Chilean beverage can be divided into 2 categories, Santiagan and non-Santiagan. The Santiagan scores a solid 8. The non-Santiagan gets a generous 1. That's all for now. Further updates of coffee from around the world will be forthcoming. Goodnight & Godspeed.
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