Here is Thom's take on the coffee roasting experience.
The Other Side…
It was still early, Friday night around 5:30 PM and Malcolm had already called me three times, left voice mails for my wife twice, and sent out several text messages and emails. The messages were all the same: Thom, do not come over before 10 AM – otherwise, you might not like what you find (imagine Malcolm sitting in his wife’s pink bathrobe at his computer creating fabulous stories of grandeur and laughing hysterically to himself).
[I note here that Thom fails to account for the Oatmeal Breakfast Stout in the bathrobe pocket - but then this is his rebuttal - so I shall let him continue]
Due to snow and a pregnant wife asking for just three more things to be done before leaving, I didn’t arrive at Malcolm’s until 10:30 AM. I drove faster and faster though, worried that my friend would not wait for me, but instead pioneer ahead without me. Finally I arrived… and was somewhat concerned at the sight of hazy smoke pouring out as Malcolm guiltily opened the door. He had indeed begun without me; luckily though it was with just a handful of beans in a skillet to make what he repeatedly called Cowboy Coffee. It was wonderful – the smell was deep and strong, the color a black mocha. The steam coming off the mug actually tickled my nose and forced a slight giggle out of me (which I quickly covered with a cough).
After much debate, two spreadsheets, a PowerPoint presentation, and a heads/tails toss of the coin, we started roasting the Costa Rican beans. I spent the first hour trying to distract Malcolm, so as to keep him from continually opening the oven door and frowning at the beans: “Why aren’t you popping!” Finally, after turning up the oven and hearing a few lonely pops, we pulled beans out. We both sampled a few and found them to our liking. We set them aside and immediately began roasting the Brazilian beans. We played with the oven settings – going from 410 to 425, trying to find the golden spot – the perfect temperature. We heard a glorious sound after only 5 minutes... it was a choir of popping, aww yes, such a sweet popping sound, like little angles clapping their hands to our hard work.
The smile upon Malcolm’s face was indescribable – the kind of smile that makes every wrinkle disappear and the eyes glaze over with contentment. We congratulated each other - our second batch was successfully roasting away, quickly approaching the famous 2nd pop… just as we had hoped and dreamed it would.
The process was at its end – we were happy, sad, wired and exhausted. What a morning… why oh why had it taken us so long in life to rediscover the simple and beautiful process of roasting our own coffee. It was at this point I noticed Malcolm fondly holding the bowl of yummy roasted coffee beans close to his chest. He had a look in his eyes… the look of pure determination, “this is mine.. mine.. all mine.” I realized then we had not discussed how, if at all, we were going to divide the beans. I knew I had one chance at breaking through to Malcolm and so I did the only thing I could, I casually handed Malcolm a paper bag and with arms wide declared loudly, “well done my friend, now, let’s hug it out.” Needless to say, I left with half the beans, of which I’m now enjoying my first cup.
Ok – time for a reality check: The process was very fun and exciting, though in the oven on a pan seems to take a considerably long time – about 1-2 hours depending on how dark you want to go.
I’ve heard about a popcorn popper that works much quicker – any comments out there? The taste of the coffee is satisfactory; I would call it a light bodied smooth blended taste. It isn’t nearly as harsh/dark/acidic as I sometimes like my coffee, but still good. I think we needed to roast it longer to bring out a more robust flavor. I’m excited to try again and again and again.
Thanks for believing in us!
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