The coffee that was (not)

At some point, the words "Java" and "Sumatra" became imbued with a mystique that seemed to automatically lend credibility to any coffee-related product bearing those names. I'm here to discredit that appellation a bit and sit down for an honest discussion on so-called Geographical Indicators for global agriculture.

First, the good news. Sumatra and Java do have at least one thing going for them in the realm of coffee. Here, I'm referring to kopi luwak (or civet coffee), the beans from which have a unique kick deriving from their having gone through the civet cat's digestive system.

Second, the surprising news. Sumatra and Java are unfortunately not mystical islands in the Caribbean inhabited by descendents of Atlantis who have grown majestic coffee in rugged jungles for thousands of years.  Rather, they are islands of a rather corrupt Southeast Asian nation (Indonesia) that are being rapidly settled, deforested and saddled with feudal-style monocrop plantations of oil palm, rubber, and yes, coffee. Fairtrade has done an admiral job of raising attention to some of the most egregious issues here, but by and large, the romance of Java and Sumatra does not correspond with the reality.

Third, the bad news. There is nothing in the soils of Sumatra and Java that automatically leads to good coffee.  Sumatra, for example, is a massive island, the 6th biggest in the world, and the largest producer of Indonesian coffee. There are pioneering farmers in the uplands who produce that romantic Arabica and usually deserve your romantic devotion. Then, there are massive plantations in the lowlands that churn out tons of generic coffee (mostly Robusta, though I won't judge Arabica vs. Robusta, just the farming system) that might find its way into instant Nescafe. Location of origin, in the end, often has little to do with quality. A diverse island with mostly industrial coffee plantations can somehow garner the same reputation as the artisanal upland farmers.

The above three points were mostly known to me, but my real inspiration for this rather cynical piece is a recent trip (March 2010) to the islands of Sumatra and Java that really pushed me over the edge.

And so lastly, the heartbreaking news. The denizens of the mystical lands of Sumatra and Java, rather than being awash in aromatic coffee, have a rather dismal coffee culture in their own right. Admittedly, some of this has to do with history and poverty but certainly not all. And there are, of course, the exceptions who sit around and sip bitter AAA (treepehl AH) and might know something about coffee. But by and large, they drink over-sugared, low-grade coffee out of a water glass and don't even bother to filter or steam it. I suspect they care little for the roasting, storage and grind, and likely dream of Starbucks Christmas Blend with caramel syrup. Okay that was harsh, but it reflects how dramatically disillusioned I was with the coffee situation here in Indonesia.

I suppose I was seeking some kind of validation based on my past experience with romanticized foods and drinks. Something like the Arabic/Turkish copper coffee boiler with cardamom or the Mayan/Aztec chocolate blends. Instead I found a few denuded islands exploiting an historic appellation and boasting little to no local passion for their agricultural product.

Consider the increasing subtlety and localization of wine and beer quality in Europe. French wine farmers have some of their proud production specified down to the square meter of land on which the wine grapes are grown. Belgian beer brewers have their fermentation specified down to the airborne bacteria in a certain attic space. Japanese Kobe beef producers can trace a steak back to a specific cow. And yet somehow the coffee from a feudal plantation owned by a corrupt Indonesian commander shares the same reputation as a small-scale upland farmer?

And then of course, location matters even less when one throws in the consequences of processing, transport and preparation. Coffee, in particular, is vulnerable to storage, roasting, and grinding conditions. And once it reaches your home or your neighborhood cafe, cooking matters considerably as well.

So, if location can be misleading and the farm-to-home adventure of the coffee is hard to control, what can a poor consumer do? It all seems too complicated to manage.

Well, first, use your nose and your mouth and your eyes. Coffee has a fragrance (before it is prepared) and an aroma (after it is prepared). The shape (or rather the geometric regularity) of the beans is important. And tasting is, contrary to popular Starbucksian belief, something that you, as the consumer, can learn. And if all else fails, find a local company that you believe knows something about coffee and let them do the work for you. Don't ever fall for packaging that claims to have the "best" quality or "finest" beans. And for g-dssake, don't fall for the Sumatra or Java romance. You've been warned.