Bitter Press

Thoughts: Coffee without the wine analogies

The Chicago Tribune just published a well-written profile on Intelligentsia head-honcho Doug Zell, with the headline “Intelligentsia’s Doug Zell wants you to think of coffee the way you think of wine.”

It’s a nicely written piece, and tackles some of the things that sometimes get brushed over in major media pieces about coffee, like Direct Trade, In Season, food pairings, and the idea of coffee as a culinary experience. But the one thing that still bothers me is the comparison of coffee to wine. Anyone who’s worked in the industry knows that when explaining coffee to certain customers, that analogy is always the winner that makes the idea hit home.

More often than not, I’ve likened a dark roasted coffee to microwaving a fine wine (I’ve also likened pipin’ hot diner coffee to frigid cold cheap beer — too hot / too cold will mask terrible flavors), and it’s usually effective. Or when people get confused about tasting notes, the easiest analogy is those snooty things that snooty wine people say when they drink wine, like in the movie Sideways.



Anyone can debate the merits of fine coffee or wine. People can go to war over tasting notes and what’s palatable or distinguishable. It seems like every year, some news outlet wants to do a “Gotcha!” piece on wine connoisseurs not being able to distinguish fine wines from cheaper ones, or there’s a national taste test that proves more people prefer Dunkin Donuts over Starbucks (hint: you’re both probably wrong).

But comparing coffee to wine is getting a little old. Instead of being a helpful comparison, it’s turning into a crutch, and is starting to feel derivative. If I have to compare coffee to anything, I’d rather it be cooking. The bridge? Preparation.

Wine needs to be uncorked, aerated, and and slurped. Coffee needs to be ground (to an infinite degree of coarseness to fineness), and partially dissolved in hot water (in a near infinite number of brew methods). A great wine can be purchased by anybody and taken home to be enjoyed. A great coffee requires a bit more time and effort put into it to show it’s full depth.

Auto-drip is the bane of a really high quality coffee. It’s a fast food cheeseburger. You’ve got your pickles, onions, ketchup, mustard, cheese, and lettuce to mask the flavor of low grade beef. It’s easy and cheap, and you’re looking for quantity more than anything. Auto-drip brings about a culture of cream and sugar and twenty-ounce standards. It’s quick, cheap, hot, and you need to mask the sub-quality flavors with something else. It’s also, sadly, how an EXTREME majority of Americans enjoy coffee, and puts coffee into the same category as wine: you take it home, you put it in the thing, and you drink it.

Making a good cup of coffee is like making a delicious apple pie from scratch. Sure, rolling out the crust and cutting edged lattice work for the top is a pain in the butt, but nothing beats homemade. Buying a great wine is like finding a good bakery. You get to enjoy the end result without the hard work, but there’s no ownership of the end product. And that’s what preparation gives you: a sense of ownership.

A great press pot or pour over cup should delight your sense of taste all the while giving you a sense of pride in your work. It’s a ritual. It’s an accomplishment. It’s a game — you’re working towards improving your brew at all times, and there are ups and downs and good cups and bad cups. It’s interactive, stimulating, and a great hobby as well as morning pick-me-up.

The American coffee industry screwed things up pretty bad in the mid-century. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. But it’s something we can accomplish together. The first step is engaging your friends, family, and co-workers. The next step — do it without a wine comparison. Make coffee it’s own culinary experience, not a derivative one.

1. calculator345 liked this
2. lovelovelifelife liked this
3. bitterpress posted this