we who have relationships with this plant

The other time in my life I have seen coffee growing was last summer. I took a grueling trip south where, in the exotic heat of July, I visited the Chicago Roasting Works. On the sill above the kitchen sink that day stood a motley line of little pots sprouting the one and only—leftovers from travels or a project or a donation of some kind. I was offered one, so I chose a sapling to take home that afternoon, and I told all my friends. (“Dude!” etc.)  The coffee tree went proudly on top of my sidewalk dinner table. It sprouted two leaves, then two more, adorably perpendicular, on its little stem. I would leave bars to come home and check on it. I was devoted. Water, shade (mine will be shade-grown, I thought), attention. Plants are living things, I knew. They will appreciate attention. I really had a relationship with this plant.

It died within a month—within probably an hour of the weather changing for the drier or hotter or gustier or whatever, Chicago, I was not there. I just came home as always right on the dot, and it was a crisp. I was devastated, but only so deeply, because I knew there was a reason why we travel for this plant.

Last week I got to do exactly that, and even my own emotional experience as a coffee farmer (ha.ha.) couldn’t prepare me for what we saw in El Salvador. Mountains covered in coffee. Mountains covered! I mean this literally. It takes your breath away to see, and I beg the buyers and origin-familiar among us to spare me a word of first-round wonder here: no picture frame, big or small can hold all there is. I spent whole hours turned away from conversations during the bus rides because the imagery of the coffee was so great. To walk down one slope of trees and look across to the next, you feel almost pulled right into the air between them. It was abundance, powerful and silent.

At dinner on the second night, a friend with many such visits under his belt intimated to me his first impression of visiting at origin: you feel like you’re never ready for your first trip he told me; it’s like you simply can’t know enough. He described a kind of processing anxiety—no pun—that overwhelms the reality of the barista, who has never seen with his own eyes the world where his product originates. I felt this too in El Salvador, but my bigger fixation last week was on the reality of the farming world, not my own. I kept asking myself as we met more and more people, do they have any idea what their product means to us in the U.S.? It seems simple (yes!) but “meaning” is a loaded term. I wonder if farmers in El Salvador, or Kenya or Peru, any of the 35 or so on this trip, would understand our almost competitive sniffings of a Chemex brewed at Broadway as we try to mine the aroma of their blooming beans so we can bust out words like “articulate” or “sturdy”; or the insane drive behind empirically measuring levels of dissolved solids in a brew with a refractometer. What about a specialty culture in which “God” has become a cliché for a wonderful cup of coffee?  Or one where we plead with customers to take their drinks in ceramic cups (while farmers often served us Styrofoam)? I wondered: do our growers see their product the way we do?

The overall effort of the ECW is to collectively focus us all on a broader meaning of coffee understanding, innovation, and community. As a barista, I got to assist the workshop by reifying the specialty industry for the growing world—one far behind our roasters and our counters. I taught regional taste differences to one farmer; I explained the bottomless portafilter to another; i.e. I did a few small things. They told me stories of coffee piracy; they showed me what it’s like to be up to one’s elbows in cherry juice at the end of a picking day; i.e. they did a few small things. But the impact of this is huge, as you can read over and over again on this blog. We throw all our coffee meanings into a pile and let it stew, and leave full but wanting more, wondering what else can be done.

I will tell anyone with confidence that each of us at Intelligentsia (and “Intelligentsia is all of us too” as we are reminded by the growers) strives for a common relationship to coffee. We have gotten together to strengthen that relationship, so that we are strong enough to spread it.

Awake and Sing

My adventure began before I got to El Salvador (flight delays, missed connections). I finally arrived to join our contingent at the opening night’s festivities held at a restaurant by our hotel,  a little bit late and quite a bit ragged from the journey.  Though I might have been in much worse shape. Many thanks is owed to Intelligentsia’s own Stephen Morrissey and to whatever fates allowed me to wind up on the same flight as his.  Had I arrived completely alone, I’m not sure my poor, poor Spanish would have gotten me where I needed to be.  But as it was already night by this time, there wasn’t much in the way of sights to be seen during our cab ride into San Salvador; just dark roads.
At the restaurant, we greeted everyone, became situated, ate, drank and finally unwound.

I was ready and eager to find out what now awaited me here. This was my very first trip to Latin America and my first trip to origin and while I’ve learned a great deal in my (many) years at Intelligentsia, that piece -  actually seeing the farms where our amazing coffees come from  – is one of the last puzzle pieces I needed in order to fully share with our customers.

Birds, Whoa!

I had my phone set to wake Andy Wickstrom and myself up bright and early for the start the of the first day of ECW, but instead, before the alarm could ring, what woke me up was the startling sound of the birds in San Salvador. It was incredibly loud and quite impressive.
Even more impressive? The view outside our window in our hotel room. What I saw was impossibly beautiful. I grabbed my video camera and literally took in a minute of this (please click “Birds, Whoa!” to see and hear what I did). The mountainside, the skies, the houses. The birds! This, after such a long, hard day to get here, is what I was hoping to see.  It completely set the tone for the rest of the trip.

My time at ECW, like that first view, was breathtaking. It was eye-opening.  It was what I needed to help me fully understand what it is that we do and how (as well as why), we do it well.

Is this coffee defective, or was it raised by wolves from outer space?

Hello, and welcome to the second annual Extraordinary Coffee Workshop, where we have gathered producers of some of the finest coffees in the world. We’d like to start the event by offering you a defective cup of coffee. Huh? Yup, let’s taste some defects. OK, so this seemed kind of weird to most of us. Why are we tasting coffee that’s bad? I guess as soon as I asked myself that question, I started answering it. Even those who cup coffee on a regular basis (myself and many producers not included) don’t plan to tastes defects. If they are there, we hope to be able to pick them out, but how would we know what they were if no one ever told us? Ah, now I get it. As we went on, many heads were turned and curiosities peaked. Some defects were quite obvious (I think everything I ate or drank for the rest of the day seemed fermented, thank you very much) while other were quite subtle or unfamiliar. Rioy is a defect (described as earthy or dirty) that I would have blamed on bad brewing instead of a bad bean. Phenol is a taste that you can immediately recognize as not good, but that you might never be able to name unless you were specifically told what it was. Approaching this exercise with defects in mind has helped me to learn that looking for the bad qualities in a bean is as important as looking for the good. Hopefully after a morning of bad coffee, we are all a bit more educated as to why we produce and roast such great coffees.

Name that Defect!

Not Your Everyday Extraordinary Event

I’m back from El Salvador – my body is a bit beaten up, but I am mentally recharged, with a renewed motivation to keep chipping away at the “it’s only coffee” beast.

This is the second ECW that I have attended. It was great to visit with friends from last year, and great to make new friends from as far away as California, Chicago (I work in New York), Papua New Guinea, Tanzania, Kenya, Central America, and Brazil, both farmers and Intelligentsia crew.

I would like to emphasize how rare it is for coffee farmers from different regions to come together and share ideas. It is hard enough for them to get together in their own country with the daily responsibilities of pruning, harvesting, and milling. Be it because of far off distances, lack of telecommunications, or language barriers, the point is that it just doesn’t happen every day. The importance of sharing successes and failures can have an enormous impact on which paths we choose to take.

As baristas or roasters, we can sometimes take for granted the now hundreds of blogs, online communities, competitions, festivals and events that we attend. This simply isn’t the case for coffee farmers. Even at events that include farmers from many origins, farmers tend to stick together with their countrymen, with the common goal of selling the coffee from their respective country.

During the ECW, farmers and non-farmers alike took part in cuppings and lectures, and had a chance to discuss farming and processing issues with their peers. This group included some of the best coffee farmers from around the world, a coffee farming “dream team”, so to speak.

I am fortunate to wear two hats at this event. Sitting next to my father, a coffee farmer from Nicaragua, we discussed ways to improve our coffee processing and collection. Chatting with Intelligentsia colleagues, we discussed how to hone our coffee message to better encapsulate the essence of hard work that goes into each coffee bean by both the farmer and Intelligentsia.

The experience and excitement of going to origin with people who have never been, never fails to give me fresh vision to see the incredible work going on around us. It is both humbling and inspiring to see how many hundreds of man hours (yes, hundreds) goes into preparing the coffee at origin.

It’s easy to be mediocre, it might even be easy to be good, but it takes care and passion to be excellent. It would be an easier road to not have events like this, to buy good coffee and leave it at that, but it truly takes passion to give the farmers every tool that can help them succeed in improving their quality and communities.

My father called me when I got home, and we were recapping the event. It may sound self-serving, or even sappy to recount his impressions of the trip, but so be it. He has grown up around coffee farming most of his life, but he told me what an impression speaking with the other farmers had made on his thoughts and plans for his own farms. When I asked if he would attend the next year, he said, “If I am able, I will absolutely go every year.”

So…if I am able, I will report back to you next year for the third ECW. In the meantime, don’t drink “just coffee”.

Thanks to all that had a hand in coordinating ECW, it was not your everyday extraordinary event.

new colors

Intelligentsia’s Stephen Morrissey, our director of education, asked for a one-sentence summation of the experience of being at the Extraordinary Coffee Workshop thus far. In perhaps the longest run-on sentence I’ve yet to utter, ever, which you’ll note even now is no small feat — I mean, just look at this sentence already — I spoke of sensory overload.

Fitting.

But there was more to it than that — more than a torrential downpour of scents, tastes, views, sounds, & textures. I learned about the depths of perceptions even possible. It was as though I had discovered new colors.

We cupped coffees next to the farmers who grew them; this made me taste deeper. We drank coffee at the farm on which it was harvested; this made me perceive the mouthfeel, the finish, the balance, sweetness, & acidity more closely. We stood in the middle of a Rube Goldberg machine of a milling station as the coffee cherries were rinsed, sorted, & pulped; this made me greater understand the qualities we seek out (or avoid) in specialty coffee.

This milling station could have been designed by Le Corbusier. A “Machine for Milling,” it was very thoughtfully & thoroughly designed, from sequence to orientation to color.

I ate a coffee cherry right off a tree. It tasted a little bit like snap peas.

Having been given the opportunity to go to origin gave me the opportunity to sense anew.

But my perception didn’t just deepen. It broadened. I got in a little bit of trouble for bus-hopping on this trip. Every time we re-embarked upon the buses, most people returned to their original buses, their original seats. But I couldn’t resist; I had the opportunity to talk to everyone, if I wanted to, & I very much wanted to. And so I did, because there was a time limit on my ability to perceive all that was going on around me, & the producers’ perspectives & stories would enrich all of it. I sincerely hope that none of the organizers were caused unnecessary strife, but I hope they understood; I needed to be overwhelmed for a small time.

(I was.)

(And thank you.)

Cooperation within Competition

I departed for San Salvador on Monday with a fairly good understanding of coffee production under my belt (when measured against the average of the wider barista community). Still, this being my first trip to origin, I naturally anticipated learning a great deal. However, instead of simply providing context and better understanding, ECW revealed an entirely new scope of complexity, unknowns, and possibilities in coffee production. One possibility for the future that was discussed at ECW was that of cooperative efforts among producers from many different regions. I entered into this trip admittedly skeptical of how an alliance or even general cooperative efforts could function in the competitive coffee market. Indeed, after observing the initial interactions among the producers that travelled to El Salvador from all over the world, I was still a bit unsure. But as the week went on, I think that many of the producers had experiences not so different from my own. As we discussed production problems like soil nutrient balance, wind, pests, storage, and transportation and cupped a variety of defects associated with different coffee growing regions, I overheard remarks and interactions indicating a more global perspective of coffee production, one that could conceive the set of problems one individual farmer faces in one particular region as being a component of a larger framework of unknowns that impact all coffee producers. By the time Intelligentsia’s green coffee buyer, Geoff Watts, started talking about cooperative efforts, his proposals to initiate collaborative experiments on many farms all over the world and share data and methodology were greeted with hearty applause.

We are all Intelligentsia.

In the four days that I was in El Salvador, I experienced coffee in a way that I had not done in eight years of working in the industry. Until now, my perception of coffee was that it began with roasting, continued with the barista, and finished with the consumer. But these last three steps actually take place far from the coffee branch and long after the fruit is picked. Until now, it’s been difficult for me to conceptualize how far back the process reaches and how the individual steps are connected.

El Borbollon - washing station

Experiencing the real path that coffee makes–starting at the very beginning, opposed to the end–opened my eyes to the importance of each rung in the process. It also made me keenly aware of how amazing it is that our coffees make it so far in the near perfect condition it does. But, after seeing how the coffee is carefully sorted, bagged and eventually milled, I now realize our partners are the very best and if it’s going to be handled by anyone, they are the best ones to do it. What was cool about meeting with different growers and mill owners in El Salvador was that despite our different geographies, backgrounds, roles, etc., we all understood that we are important in the process. We all strive to preserve the coffee’s intrinsic quality (or promote it–in my case, as a graphic desiger).

Banner at Finca Matalapa

As Eduardo Alvarez of El Borbollon said, “We are all Intelligentsia.” I was moved by those words on the last evening of the trip; they seemed to sum up our collective commitment to quality and dedication to one another.

"We are all Intelligentsia"

My cup is full. Thank you.

I really didn’t know what to expect from the ECW. I definitely felt some anxiety over the idea of being with people who are enmeshed in the coffee industry for several days at a time. It turned out to be unfounded. Everyone was simply amazing. Even the people I could not hold conversations with because of a language barrier were still welcoming and we shared smiles of acknowledgment that “it’s nice to be here, wish I could talk to you.” So many inspirations settled on me at ECW. Learn Spanish (among other languages), learn more about the genetics side of coffee, more of the history of each country coffee is grown in and the infrastructure supporting all aspects of coffee within that country. So much to process…I have never been to origin before. I loved having the real experience to flesh out the knowledge I have gleaned from reading and talking to others about what a coffee farm looks like, what the sun feels like as it beats down on the coffee trees and you at the same time in the same place. It left me peeling, by the way. The coffee tree is better equipped to handle the sun’s energy. If I can just figure out how to utilize photosynthesis for myself. Injections of chlorophyll? Perhaps not. Just more sunscreen I think.

Home-brewing demo

I was humbled by the hard work and care that goes into delivering excellent quality coffee into my hands as a barista in Chicago. On the last day we were in Santa Ana, we put on a home brewing demonstration for everyone. Everybody seemed intensely interested in it and it was very rewarding for me to see the people who provided the coffee light up as they tasted their own coffee brewed several different ways. I am not sure you can imagine how humbling it is to serve the person a cup of coffee from their farm after the coffee has made the journey all the way to chicago to be roasted and packaged to be brought back to El Salvador and brewed. To see their face light up as they taste how amazing the fruits of their labor are when each collaborator in the chain brings their experience and knowledge to their step of the process was just about the best part of the trip for me. I love seeing people enjoy their coffee. It’s what got me hooked in the first place. Try as I might, I really can’t put words to the feeling of those people I see enjoying the coffee being the ones who grew it. Add to all that the fact that we were in El Salvador in February with 80F and 90F weather, learning and sharing ideas about how to do things better with people who care and are interested and what you end up with is a full cup. Thank you to everyone who made it possible.

Keeping it Together

Trying to think back on the last 6 days, especially when asked, “So how was El Salvador?”, I find myself scrambling mentally to collect everything that occurred and synthesize it into some coherent thought.  It’s near impossible.  I find myself, though, realizing that this is a fitting conceit through which to try to explain my experience.  The Extraordinary Coffee Workshop was a massive ordeal: 5 days, 70 attendees, no fewer than 3 languages, representing 4 continents, 3 farms, 2 cuppings, 1 brew demonstration, 3 buses (in which more hours were spent than anyone wants to count, including me),  1 wet mill, and countless cups of coffee and bottles of cerveza consumed.  I could go on and on tallying the numbers; but to see that written is not to see it performed.  Have you ever tried to corral 70 people onto 3 buses in two languages?  Or get them to all walk to one place (at least at any reasonable speed)?  What the organizers went through to make this happen is unbelievable; they deserve credit and praise and thanks.

The reason I begin like this, though, is not to overwhelm, it is to say that it has come to my attention that this work, keeping together and organized a massive machine with moving parts beyond number, is what we do.  Not just Intelligentsia, but every single individual, company, farm, cooperative and organization associated with our mission to find, pick, process, ship, roast and brew the coffee of the highest possible quality in terms of flavor and ethics.  It’s a big job.  Some might say an impossible task, but in this industry, we’re nothing if not idealistically ambitious.

While visiting Finca la Malacara, an experience I know others have touched on (see below and elsewhere: the death truck), we were able to actually watch the pickers sorting their harvest at the end of the day.  The visuals of this are incredible; see a huge pile of ripe coffee cherries, look at what is being separated out, and you have a very clear idea of what good coffee looks like.  There’s just no getting around it.  As we observed the pickers at their work, who were incredibly tolerant of our prying camera lenses, laughably earnest wonder and clumsy feet as we excitedly wound our way through them and their haul, someone mentioned creating a timeline of a coffee cherry.  Imagine what it would look like to follow one cherry from the planting of the seedling, the tending of the tree, the picking of the cherry, the sorting process, tracking the journey to the mill, to the drying beds, to the cupping table, across the water, through the roasting process, and into the cup.  That’s what origin is all about, I suppose.

Sorting the cherries at the end of the day

But it’s bigger.  Isn’t it?  A timeline isn’t enough.  We need a web!  A sculpture!  An encyclopedia!  An interpretive dance!  (Ok, maybe not the dance)  My point is that a timeline, linear as it is, can’t show you what’s outside of the cherry (and I don’t mean mucilage).  It’s a point to anchor, but timelines and itineraries (as we well found out at ECW) only show you the progression of events.  They don’t show you the mechanisms that actually do the work of making these things happen.  They don’t show you the people that keep it together.  At heart, Intelligentsia and Direct Trade isn’t about showing you results, it’s about making them.  More specifically, it’s about making them with other people.

So, how do we keep it together?  This huge thing that no one person can control in its entirety?  Part of me wants to say, “that’s easy!  we all love coffee!”  But that’s silly.  We do love coffee, but that’s not it, that’s not enough.  We keep it together because we like being a part of a community.  By “we” I don’t just mean Intelligentsia, I mean everyone involved in the Specialty Coffee industry.  Watching how much everyone at ECW loved being together, loved sharing ideas, loved being at those farms, at that mill, loved eating dinner together, and yes, even loved being on those buses together, it was clear that this was a community event.  Farmers, representatives, buyers, roasters, baristas, administrators, salesmen and CEOs alike all climbed onto the back of an enormous coffee hauling truck to be packed in like sardines ride down the side of a mountain together, safety and dignity bedamned, and loved it.  Okay, maybe loved is a strong word, but no one cried.

We keep it together to be part of something bigger and more fun and more ethical and, very importantly, more delicious.  Group hug, everybody!

Death Truck!

dance, coffee, & other kinds of magic

I had a strange realization Tuesday night. At dinner, we were treated to a performance by a local folk dance troupe. As a former ballet dancer, I was already all “Cool, yo,” curious about a style I’d never seen, interested to see the similarities to other folk styles with which I am familiar, & other boring things dance nerds think about while watching dance performances.

One of the dancers stood out from the others. Part of it was his technical skill — he demonstrated mastery in every gesture he performed. But it was also clear that he had thought about the character he was portraying, making the character human, personal, relatable, even funny. Lastly, & this is the cause of the first two things for sure, every movement he made was infused with a joy for doing it, whether the emotion expressed was anger, pride, sadness, flirtation, determination, humility, or repeating the same steps in the midst of a group, at the same time, to music.

Earlier that same day, our green coffee buyer Geoff Watts had made an announcement. After a series of conversations & an experiment or seven with one of our coffee producers (Eduardo Alvarez from El Borbollon, here in Santa Ana, El Salvador), Geoff had announced to the crowd his commitment to innovation — to undertaking a series of experiments, with Eduardo & also with any farmers we work with who are willing. The specific experiment he referenced was a submersive processing method, post-harvest, & the idea is a big one. With what else can we experiment? Which other methods (from other regions, say) can be imported, explored, & assessed? And who’s in?

“But what the Yirgacheffe, mate, why did you even bring up the dancer?” Because the young man on that stage expressed three qualities that are absolutely essential to the series of projects our man Watts proposes. Mastery, innovation, & joy. It’s not enough to be good at what you do. It’s not enough to do things differently. It’s not enough to love the heck out of it. But man — all three? That is big. That is iconoclasm. That is magic. I’m eager to see the results of the experiments as they roll out, to see who else participates (& what their experiments are), & I’m grateful to have witnessed magic three times in one day.

The third magic was in the surreal whorls, the abstract geometries, in my hair as I awoke that morning. El Salvadorian humidity + Irish hair. Magic.

refrigerator art

The delayed and canceled flights from the east coast storm have rippled across the countries and time zones, leaving me overnight in Houston. I’m tired. Exhausted really.

And I could expound on the rigors of travel and long hours, but really, it’s not the point.  Okay, maybe some of it is.

I don’t think there’s a single thing in life that I’ve appreciated more than the things I’ve worked for.  Not to say I prefer to be a martyr, only loving what I’ve slaved over for the very point of slaving over something. No. Not like that. But rather, the satisfaction of effort fulfilled. And this week, I realized something more. This feeling is not restricted to my own efforts.

I cannot begin to tell you the happiness that washes over me when I cup a beautiful coffee from one of our producers. To know them, to know their work and then to experience first hand the fruits of their labor is thrilling. I imagine it’s the way my mother felt when I’d come home with Honor’s Student letters and high ACT scores, pinning them to the fridge and calling her friends.

This week, we were able to cup an amazing coffee from Juan Pablo of Finca Santa Teresa, Panama.  We cupped the coffee on a blind table. As we tasted the beauty, the nuance, the floral notes, the sweetness, the structure, the cleanliness, and the complexity, it made me think of a Yirgacheffe.  And when the origins were revealed to show this coffee to be from Santa Teresa, happy shivers ran through my body. All this work, all this effort and then this beautiful coffee.

In a way, we may be more like my mother than I think. We post our producer’s successes on our fridge (I mean, our website is kind of like a fridge, right?) and we tell our friends. We uphold a relationship that encourages and enables Juan Pablo to continue to produce the coffee that we all love.

Defects, Boots, Pants, Buses and Trucks-Day 3

Early mornings, late nights, and long days, that seems to be the pattern here. On the 2nd day of the ECW we started our day in a not so tasteful fashion, cupping and identifying various defects. Some were mild, some were gruesome with phenolic, a defect first prevalent in Colombia, being by far the most offensive. After completing this exercise we headed on an erratic and often lost bus ride and finally a walk to the COE winning farm, Finca Malacara in the Santa Ana growing region. There we enjoyed some delicious tacos (Mexican food in El Salvador??) and a spectacular view of the valley. This was followed by a harrowing ride on a less than straight dirt road for about 60 people on the top of a coffee truck to see ripe coffee cherries being brought in from picking. In El Salvador the color of the coffee considered to be of the perfect ripeness is more burgundy than typical in other origins. We are interested in tinkering with this just a bit to see if the colors on the redder end of the spectrum might bring some added complexity, sparkle, and balance. Geoff led a brief question and answer discussion with the farm manager and coffee pickers about this and we will begin the experiment this year.

Day 2 Farm Tour (Photos)

Day Two!

After a afternoon spend getting to know everyone who’s in attendance here at the ECW, we spend the evening gallivanting and having a merry good time. These photos are from day 2 which was spent running all around El Salvador.  I’m not very good at this blogging thing, so here are a bunch of photos from the first day of events. Granted they are from my iPhone, but give it a few days after we’re home and I’ll have some wonderful shots to post!

This is a view of the Finca Matalapa farm, facing towards San Salvador. Notice the tree pattern on the left. They are called Copalchi, or wind blocking trees which provide shade and protection to the coffee trees.

This is the opposite side of Finca Matalapa facing the ocean.

We had lunch at the Paraiso Mill which uses steam power to sort the dried coffee beans. Charlie “accidentally” broke off what was described as a very large lemon or “Coco Lemon” We had lemonade made form these and it was delicious.

The evening wound down at Borboillon, home to Los Inmortales. Andy is here discussing the difference in processing techniques between El Salvador and in Africa with the gentlemen responsible for the Kenyan coffee Thiriku, one of my absolute favorites.

Much more to come this week!

-Sara Travis

Meaningful-Day 2

We’re finally cooling off here in the hotel lobby in Santa Ana, surrounded by friends, coworkers, and a fine glass of Venezuelan rum courtesy of Geoff Watts via Chris Kolbarn and Melody Chacon of Papua New Guinea. The first full day of the ECW has left me with an immense appreciation for straight and paved roads, sunscreen and the fantastic coffee producers with whom we work.

El Salvador is a country of rugged beauty. Throughout the day I rode past some very modest homes and weathered murals that seem from an era long past. Market-goers pile into pickup trucks, generally ignored by playful schoolchildren and rifled policemen, while others weave through traffic to sell newspapers or sell papusas and fresh fruit. In our three-bus caravan we climbed nearly 1400 meters to Finca Matalapa for a fantastic tour and lunch courtesy of its producer, Vicki Dalton-Diaz. Vicki gave a thoughtful talk on the challenges posed by El Salvador’s reduced coffee yield this year as well as climate change, all while perched on a vista overlooking the many Bourbon and Pacas trees of her 65-hectare farm.

From Finca Matalapa we traveled to Procafe, which is a not-for-profit coffee research institute funded by the government and coffee exporters of El Salvador. Our hosts gave a talk on their scientific methods of controlling insect damage prevalent in coffee cherries. Attendees were treated to a tour of the extensive varietal garden and the laboratories where many an evil broca was bottled up glaring back at us with tiny beady eyes.

Finally, our caravan arrived at the El Borbollon mill in the closing hour of sunlight, just in time to observe coffee cherry pulping and parchment drying. Our host Quincho Alvarez led us through an inspired tour and history of his mill, and demonstrated his willingness to experiment with new methods of processing coffee in a setting you simply couldn’t dream up. With the sun setting on fields of parchment and the sweet scent of burgundy colored cherries in the air, the scene was absolutely stunning.

By DC

Odd

It is an odd thing to start the journey to El Salvador beginning in Chicago with wet snow falling all over me and then finally step out of the plane in San Salvador into 90 degree summer weather.  My brain knows what’s going on, but it still feels odd. Yesterday was a day of bumming around the hotel and settling in while waiting for everyone to arrive. We had a very nice introduction to the Extraordinary Coffee Workshop by Doug Zell and our El Salvadoran hosts at Viva Espresso, followed by dinner at Fire of Brazil.  Today we will make the trip to Santa Ana and stop at some farms along the way for those of us visiting from other places and who are not familiar with it to see how some of the things work on a coffee farm.  I can’t wait!

Begin the begin-Day 1

Here is what I opened with for the event. I hope it becomes a reality becomes for Specialty Coffee.

“I was struggling for a theme for this 2nd annual Extraordinary Coffee Workshop. Last year’s event was so ground breaking and it was hard to imagine that we could take greater steps forward than we did last year. But then I was struck by what might be perceived as an odd inspiration and I think something that will resonate with all of you.

I recently attended an event for my one and only daughter’s school. It occurred to me that most of the parents in attendance were in their forties and that one’s forties are the age where one reckons with the odd combination of a good deal of knowledge and wisdom and a keen sense of one’s own mortality. It occurred to me that each of us wishes we could have the strength and beauty of our youth with the knowledge and wisdom of our later years.

Unfortunately this is not destined to happen in human form.

So where does that leave us and how is relevant to what we are doing here today, or over the next few years or in our lifetime in coffee?

Well you may or may not know that at Intelligentsia, each bit of work that we are doing in each country falls under a specific name with a reference to that project, the particular farm or cooperative that is involved and so on with a great deal of specificity.

On each of our single origin bags we list the country of origin, the name of the coffee project, the name of the farm and farmer or cooperative, the altitude, the varietal, the harvest dates, and the roast date of the coffee.

So what is the over arching name of our coffee efforts in El Salvador? Well oddly enough it is called Los Inmortales, “the Immortals,” a state of being not granted to any of us on earth.

Well except for one way.

In the work we do while we are here. In the legacy it can leave. I am convinced that chasing a personal legacy is for fools, a waste of time and merely for the stoking of one’s ego.

What I am hoping we accomplish over the next several days is to take the first few steps in creating a legacy we all can pass onto our children and our children’s children. One that transforms the industry of coffee and has the power to transform economies and lives all the way from source into our customer’s cup.

My hope is that as a result of our collective effort, between farmers, and roasters and baristas, and all of the rest of you that help make this possible we will radically alter history, changing forever what coffee can be, from a commodity that has been undervalued and traded as such for hundreds of years, to a revered culinary product that can withstand the test of time. Something, that in its own special way, is immortal.

So we thank you for joining us at the 2nd annual Extraordinary Coffee Workshop. Here’s to creating a legacy that is truly everlasting, and undeniably extraordinary.”

DZ

The Arrival

After navigating a very long line at Immigration, I’ve finally made it to El Salvador Folks are slowly trickling in with a few mishaps as expected. We’ve got beautiful views of the volcano from our hotel. So it begins. It is always difficult to coordinate this many people. But we’ll try and will certainly keep you posted. More to follow.

DZ

Sitting in the Day-Effay

I’ve got a little time on my hands here in Mexico City at my departure Gate-19 (with the added bonus of there being a 19a, 19b, 19c, & 19d). Red eye flights aren’t what they used to be and I’ve already heard from a few folks that have landed safely in San Salvador. Inevitably when you’ve got people coming in from all over the world there is bound to be complexity in getting everyone through. (More on this later).

I am yet again embarrassed by my stunning lack of Spanish skills. Each time I leave Latin America, I swear I’m going to learn the language, but inevitably life and work intercedes.

The charming mild chaos of this part of the world creeps in on all sides and I’ve got to say I just love it.

Doug Zell

Extraordinary Coffee Workshop Poster

Screen-print poster for the event

In Intelligentsia’s art department, we have had a lot of fun over the last year or so doing more and more printing ourselves, in-house.

No, I’m not talking about pressing “print” on the Canon printer next to our desks. I’m talking about actually printing posters, cards, tees, etc., by hand in the screen-printing studio that was built at the Intelligentsia Chicago roastery. In our department, we are all artists who come from diverse experiences with different media like illustration, printmaking, painting, drawing, and photography, any time we get the chance to get our hands dirty again and put the computer away for a bit is a welcome one.

For this year’s Extraordinary Coffee Workshop in El Salvador, I had the opportunity to create some posters that will commemorate the event and serve as thank you’s for our grower partners who will be coming long distances to attend.

It’s the least I can do to show my appreciation for the exemplary coffees I so often enjoy.

The Journey Begins

So we are packing up for the 2nd Annual ECW in El Salvador. What does that mean? Well, we have a whole lot of coffee and coffee gear to bring with us for all of the brewing and tasting. About 20 of us will be hauling some part of these 1000 lbs of stuff. Customs is always interesting to navigate in this regard, but we seem to have greater success bringing everything in suitcases and boxes as opposed to shipping it on a pallet that inevitably gets stuck in customs if there is no one to usher it through. Some of the coolest stuff is what we are bringing for our grower-partners. We’d like to give a big thank you to the generosity of Chemex and Mypressi for providing one of their coffee making devices for every grower in attendance. We will be leading classes in El Salvador to demonstrate how to best brew on these devices. Last year the home brewing classes were among the best received.  What could be better than a great cup of coffee or espresso in the coziness of your own kitchen?

More to follow.  Stay tuned.

Almost There…

We are putting together the final pieces for this year’s Extraordinary Coffee Workshop. There is a lot of last minute scrambling for what is not a small undertaking. In all, we will have 70 attendees from all over the world.  There is a lot of frenetic energy swirling and we anticipate a great event on the heels of what was illuminating and rewarding participation at the TED conference. Everyone looks a bit ragged, but knows that this is why we are here…to push what great coffee can be. Stay tuned, more to come.