When I got to the interaction that I had scribbled on a ripped envelope corner I nearly missed the small roasting facility. I was looking for a sign with the words, Novo Coffee. After circling the block twice, it wasn't until I noticed two men standing on a loading dock that I noticed Novo written on the door to their right. "Any where to park a bike around here?" I asked, pulling my helmet off sweaty hair. This stretch of road was desolate. No trees or posts to loop my bike lock around, let alone sidewalks. Just a stretch of red-brick warehouses, each made distinct by a simple door logo.
The older man walked over and with a big smile replied, "Yeah, just walk it on in! You must be Emily, right?" How did he know my name? We chatted briefly and I picked up my bike to ascend the small staircase into the front door. When my eyes adjusted to the shady interior, a tall, red-bearded man spun around the corner, "Yep, just roll it on in and you can put it over here on this wall." I was parking my bike next to three others, in the large room filled with conniver belts, burlap bags, and a small kitchen area with a sink and few coffee pots. There were five others in the room and they were all standing in a small semi circle making small talk. We were all here for coffee cupping, but these guys looked experienced in ways I couldn't materialize. Maybe it was their calm composure. I was the only female in the whole facility; that must be why he new my name!
The older man appeared again and gathered us together to begin a tour of the facility, which took 10 minutes. This is who we are, this is some of our coffee we just got in, this is our first roaster and this is our new one, this is our production rate, this is where we bag and ship... I honestly don't remember much of what he was saying. I was too distracted by my surroundings, the smells, the sounds, the cool air on my back. What I did catch includes the following: Novo is a small business that started up nine years ago by this man and his two sons. One of the reasons they are being nationally acclaimed is that they spend a lot of their time scouting the best quality coffees and developing relationships with farmers and customers. The red-bearded man, I learned, is one of their highly trained staff members that travels around the world cupping new coffee beans and ensuring Novo's bean quality. How does someone even begin a career path like that? What a craft to learn!
There was a lot of discourse about varietals, roasting techniques, and other coffee terminology that I wasn't acclimated to. I was slowly piecing details together, making mental notes to research them later (as of this moment, I can't remember). The best part was when we began the cupping. We entered a small room off to the side with a raised table in the middle, lined with glass cups half-full with ground coffee (the smell was just like sticking your face into a bag of fresh coffee beans... heavenly). I took my "station" complete with four glasses. We were immediately instructed to start smelling our cups, sticking our noses right in there, shaking the cups to rotate the grinds as we sniffed. The red-bearded man went on to describe each coffee and what makes it unique. It all reminded me of what a wine sipping class must be like, as his was throwing out descriptors like, "racy, citrus, bright", but I thought they all smelled wonderful and it was difficult to pick them apart. Perhaps I don't have acute sense of smell, or perhaps it is something you acquire over years of doing it? Water was boiling in the background and he went on to fill our cups with "perfect brewing water" (brought to a boil and then let to sit for a few seconds) and once our coffee cups were filled and brimming with a milky froth we chatted some more for exactly four minutes, the "perfect brewing time". We each got a metal spoon, a second glass cup (empty) for spitting, and two glasses of water to share with my table partner facing me: one for washing the spoon and one for rinsing between tastings. After these four minutes, we cleaned off the foam with our spoons and cupping began!
Cupping, as I experienced it, is where you take a small spoonful of hot water steeped with fresh coffee grinds and you slurp it as loud as possible into your mouth. Swish it around, let the coffee slide over your tongue, and then spit it out into a cup and move on to the next, after washing your spoon so that no flavors are mixed. Cupping, in an short, is a hilarious way to get to know a table of strangers. I stood there slurping and spitting and trying not to crack up as everyone was wearing such serous faces, deep in contemplation about the coffee they were trying. As the coffee cooled and the slurping slowed, we chatted a little bit more. I learned that four out of the five guys at the table were ex-Dazbog Coffee employees (Dazbog is sort of the Starbucks of the Denver metro). They all roast their own beans. I previously thought I was a coffee snob because I only purchase fresh fair trade and I use a Chemex... but these guys were discussing the differences between washed Ethiopian versus washed Panamanian beans. What does washed mean? I was going to ask, but the conversation moved so quickly, probably from the caffeine (you didn't' have to spit if you didn't want to so we probably had a few cups of coffee in that hour). I did learn a lot about "fair trade" that surprised me.
Fair Trade, I learned, is a label that is expensive to get certified in and actually pays farmers less than direct buyer-farmer relationships. Novo practices direct farmer relationships and because they seek quality beans they pay a premium for them, above what Fair Trade would pay. How do consumers know if the coffee they are buying is compensating these bean farmers appropriately?? Look for roasters that cut out the middle man and place value in the farmers they work with. This can't be found on a label, but the only way to know is to ask the employees, like at Novo. He added, "Do research on the coffee you are buying. It is not all about labels; it is about being a conscious consumer." Just like the "organic" label. Coffee (and other food products for that matter) sourced from small farmers are most likely organic, but they don't have the certification because it is too expensive.
Part of the experience was picking out a pound of coffee to take home as a souvenir. I picked the "Hartmann Geisha" varietal from Panama. I guess it goes for something like $20 a pound so choosing this special bean meant that it was only an 8 oz bag. The "nuances" include, silky mouthfeel, grapefruit and lemon citrus, bittersweet chocolate, red grape, and clean finish. Someone commented, in between slurs, that the four coffees we were cupping were "absolutely ridiculous." I'm an amateur but I had to agree. They were each unique in a sensory-stimulating way. I would have sipped all four glasses until they were empty if it hadn't been for the jitters. This experience expanded my perception of coffee 2-fold; like standing at Picnic Point and realizing there is a whole other half to Lake Mendota (Madison, WI reference).
We all hung around for a while, discussing beer now. Their single fridge was full of craft beer for their new happy hour on Friday afternoons. Upon leaving I felt as though I was saying goodbye to friends. It felt like a "See ya around" instead of "goodbye." In my back pocket was the business card from the older man, the cofounder, who moved from Madison nine years ago. He wants to talk Madison sometime. I want to talk Denver and coffee. Small world. Biking home I contemplated how coffee, such a simple beverage at face value, is actually the sum of many subtle complexities. Kind of like people.
A storm was brewing to the west now. I raced the violet clouds home, thinking about the strange connection a handful of strangers had over a few simple cups of coffee.
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