Untitled - Four Barrel Coffee

It’s like magic! Or string theory and stuff. For instance, we know that at this very
moment, wherever you are, you are reading this.
We know that right now someone somewhere is posting a picture of coffee online.
Don’t bother to check. Keep your phone in your pocket. It just looks like a cup of
coffee anyway, maybe with a couple flowers behind it. Trust us, we know.
Furthermore, we know that at this very moment, somebody’s looking at a shelf of retail
coffee bags, totally confused by tasting notes. They’re scared of mispronouncing
Karisimbi, los Yuc, or Goljo; and they’re feeling generally overwhelmed.
You can help this person.
You are reading this booklet, and you are remembering a lot of it--at least the
interesting parts. You are smiling and catching that person’s eye. You’re answering
the questions they were afraid to ask.
So: what do you think? Are you in? We can’t see into the future, just the present. And
here we are.
Bruselas, Huila
1,600-1,900 meters
Caturra, Bourbon, Typica
Bruselas, Huila
1,600-1,900 meters
Caturra
When you visit the Four Barrel Homeroom for our bi-weekly public cuppings, you’ll usually taste
about a dozen different coffees that we offer at that moment. If, on the other hand, you sneak into
that room on a random rainy afternoon, you might see a cupping that’s a lot more intense.
Eight years ago, we couldn’t have offered this coffee. It was hard enough for us to explain to people
that a few particular Colombian coffees were more exciting than all the assorted grocery store
coffee they had seen labeled “Colombian” for decades.
You’ll see forty or more different bowls circling the circumference of our cupping table. Each sample
will be labeled with the same name: Andino.
While we were busy telling our parents why our expensive and floral and syrupy sweet Andino was
really worth the effort, the farmers of Bruselas were doing their part as well. First the Andino co-op
tightened up their tasting and testing, then they started sending us samples of their neighbors’ most
exceptional coffees. What we’re saying is, things have really picked up over the last few years, on
both the coffee production side and the coffee-drinking side.
As we taste through those samples in a silence broken only by inelegant slurping sounds, we make
notes on clipboards and spreadsheets. Once we’ve come to our personal conclusions, we get
together to assign scores and choose favorites. That’s where the fine print comes in.
Besides “Andino,” each sample includes some fine print scribbled in pencil: the farm name, the
harvest date, and any other distinguishing notes for that particular micro-lot. For instance, one of
the names that made this lot of Andino is David Burbano--the very first Andino farmer we worked
with there, six years ago. So the fine print might say, “Burbano lot #7.”
That’s how we build our Andino out of the many separate lots from the hundred-some members of
the Andino co-op and their neighbors... slurping and scribbling.
Okay, there’s a little more to it than that: there are days of sample roasting, weeks of personal visits
to Huila, and hours of dishwashing. But mostly it’s about the slurping. Drop by sometime.
Tasting notes: Come check this confection. It’s a triple-A, citric connection of butterscotch
affection and nectarine perfection. The brown sugar selection for a big bean election.
And now, here we are: 2016, and it’s the third year we’ve offered a sub-lot of Andino featuring the
half-dozen coffees that jumped out to us. As usual, we’re paying these producers a quality-based
bonus for these coffees beyond the premium prices fetched by the Andino co-op.
Just like we told people in 2008, this coffee isn’t for everyone. It’s exceedingly tropical, held together
with dense syrup and surprising complexity. In fact, there are some hungover mornings when we
prefer the straightforward butterscotch flavor of the full Andino co-op to this wild coffee. But if
you’re the kind of person who appreciates something rare and special, you really have to give this
coffee a try. (And then another. And another....)
Tasting notes: Andino Especial’s college application shocked the administration. Under race, he
wrote, “Cinnamon.” Age? “Sparkling.” Interests? “Kiwi & mango.” In the end, Especial skipped
college, opened a little flower cart, and became famous for handing out tangerines to kids.
East Wollega
1,750 - 1,850 meters
Heirloom
Antigua
1,800 meters
Bourbon, Caturra
There’s more than one way to make a coffee. Like, totally hypothetically, let’s just say you decided
to start growing coffee on a little stretch of steep-sloped land through which the Karru Nagesso river
runs. That would be totally normal. But what if the river was at the peak, not valley, of your land?
From the Gilmore Girls to Ghostbusters, this is the year of the revival. Sure, it’s not terribly original,
but so what? Neil Young opening for Paul McCartney? Sure, why not? Likewise, here we are working
with the Zelaya family yet again, and roasting up another incredible Guatemalan coffee.
Well, growing coffee below a river would allow you to use that river for cheap and clean irrigation
without pumps and generators. In fact, you could even dig a couple trenches to flood your farm
once a month in the dry season. Of course, if you did all that, you’d be doing something nobody
else does; would that be cool with you?
Luis Pedro Zelaya Aguirre and Luis Pedro Zelaya Zamora are pretty dependable guys (like Bruce
Springsteen), and we’ve been working with them for years now (like Bono and The Edge). They
know what we like, and that we pay for great coffee, so they’re always looking to hook us up with
local producers.
It’s cool with Tolemariam (“Tolu”) Jibat, who founded Goljo just a decade ago. His parents were
coffee farmers, but he chose to head to town and start a few pharmacies. He seems to have picked
up a lot of ideas from fruit farmers, or maybe just his own ingenious brain.
This particular coffee is one of their own--it’s from Buena Vista, the farm that Luis Sr has semiretired to. But like Mick and Keith, his idea of retirement is pretty active. And Buena Vista just keeps
improving. From the symmetrical rows of shade trees to the shrubs pruned back at the slightest hint
of leaf rust, the operation is tight. Tight like the encore of a Rush concert.
Ethiopia, on the other hand, features the most traditional techniques of any producer. (That stands
to reason, considering Ethiopia started growing coffee a few hundred years before the rest of us
caught on.) Our very first batch of Goljo combines both traditions: something old, something new,
something borrowed, and something to brew.
Tasting notes: Floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves. Bergamot and lavender in the dusky air. A
family crest with knotted elderflower & chrysanthemum. Golden raspberries on a silver tray.
We certainly understand why Luis Sr. likes focusing on Buena Vista. All it takes is a ride up the farm’s
steep slope, switchback after switchback, to get a free view of the sun setting over all of Antigua.
And that’s a show that’s been on every night for years, and never, ever gets old.
Tasting notes: Shy, coy, or just the strong and silent type? Deep as the Dali Lama, Denser than
Derrida: Buena Vista blushes peach and orange sherbert into those nectarine cheeks, flashes a
syrupy smile, and disappears.
G OL JO,
ETH IOP IA
G OL JO,
ETH IOP IA
Antigua
1,500 - 1,800 meters
Caturra & Bourbon
The wheels of fate turn in mysterious ways. Sometimes they need a little help from us mere mortals.
Luis Pedro Zelaya Zamora is one of those guys who greases the wheels.
It’s been six years since we met, and every year we’re more impressed with the great Guatemalan
coffees he helps us find. Along with the farms run by his family, he keeps his Bella Vista mill (which
processes both his family’s coffees and those of his neighbors) in top working order.
Three years ago, we were in Antigua, cupping with Zelaya. We’d bought from one of his neighbors
for a few years straight, and every year they produced a tiny amount of coffee. But that particular
year they produced even less than usual. Ever resourceful, Zelaya added some extra, neighboring
farms to our cupping.
His idea was to make sure we’d buy enough coffee to make importing it efficient. But what he got
was a couple Four Barrel folks constantly pestering him about this anonymous “neighboring” coffee
that blew us away on the cupping table.
Nubarrones, Jalapa
1,500-1,650 meters
Pacas
Throughout the years of civil war and unrest in Nicaragua, Don Anibal kept growing low-risk
vegetables like bell pepper, onions, and cabbage on his valley farm. He was moderately successful,
but his dreams were up in the clouds. When peace finally came to the Nubarrones, that’s exactly
where he went: the highlands of Nubarrones (“thunderclouds”).
Up in the Nubarrones, he bought a modest 37 acres--that’s about two Dolores Parks, for you locals.
Unlike Dolores Park, this farm lacked roads. There are probably a lot of other things at Dolores Park
that Anibal’s new farm lacked, but a way to and from the moutainside farm... well, that was a bit of
a hurdle.
Don Anibal spent more of his vegetable farm profits on a few mules to ferry supplies up and down
until he finished the road. He expanded the farm in all directions. All the while, Anibal’s long-held
dream continued to glow in the back of his mind: the chance to start a coffee farm, up among the
clouds.
Eventually we discovered that the “neighboring” farmers really were his neighbors--practically next
door to Bella Vista. The Yuc (pronounced “yook”) family farms sit scattered around the Volcan
de Agua, and they somehow produce the absolutely exquisite florality we treasure in Guatemalan
coffees. Apparently, the wheels of fortune are spinning in our favor.
Tasting notes: Ever since the first Bring It On movie, the light-bodied los Yuc has been inventing
and perfecting cheer squad moves: The Grapefruit Twist, Lemonhead Leap, & Sweet Sparkling
Spin.
Tasting notes: Thanksgiving in summer: Cranberry and plum tart, rhubarb pie, and pluot. A
cucumber palate-cleanser followed by grandma’s caramels.
Nueva Segovia
1,350-1,375 meters
Caturra
This lot actually combines three farms, all owned by members of the Lovo family. Each farm’s lot
was washed in a separate beneficio, then immediately delivered to the La Estrella mill for drying on
African-style raised and shaded beds.
First, there’s dad: Don Joaquin Augusto Lovo Lopez. He’s sort of the neighborhood’s go-to elder for
specialty coffee. He made sure that his sons were educated, but kept them working on the family
farm evenings and weekends.
Among the sons: David Ariel Lovo Gutierrez. David Ariel bought Finca la Pradera back in 1969, and-except for the conflicts of the 1980s--hasn’t left it since.
Finally, his brother: Don Luis Joaquin Lovo. He’s basically the spokesman for the family, or at least
the guy who sells us the coffee. Don Luis is actually a pretty quiet guy for a spokesman, come to
think of it. What he is, is driven. He’s the one who pesters the Estrella mill-workers and his export
partners, frequently checking in on the coffee’s quality, always seeking feedback.
It was a desire for feedback as much as anything that motivated Don Luis to hold back a few bags of
his Maragogype crop for the Nicaraguan Cup of Excellence. What he got was an award. We’ll have
a little of that for you this summer. But for now, step into this Caturra lot from the whole Lovo family.
Tasting notes: If I said you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me? What if I mentioned
your complexity, or your concord grape intellect and jasmine spirituality? We could re-make that
Ohio Players record cover, with the honey dripping down that belly... if you’ll be the honey.
Byumba
1,700 meters
Bourbon
Immy Camarade is one of Rwanda’s many female entrepreneurs. In fact, she owns the gas station in
Kigali where we picked her up for the drive out to her brand new Karisimbi mill. That mill, even in its
young state, is part of the incredible transformation the Rwandan coffee industry has experienced
over the last 20 years.
That transition--from focusing exclusively on volume to adding the element of quality--happened
at the processing level. The yummy Bourbon variety coffee, the volcanic soil, and the climate have
always been there; infrastructure and habit were the only things to improve. Karisimbi mill is among
those mills working exclusively with fully washed coffees, and accentuating excellence rather than
sheer quantity.
Of course, the country itself has gone through bigger changes than that. Rwandans really
capitalized upon the assistance international NGOs have offered since Rwanda’s 1994 genocide.
The country seemed to us to be one of the most clean, safe, and progressive places we’d ever
been. On an individual level, Immy herself joined a businesswoman’s delegation that visited the US
for entrepreneurial training, including a stint working with coffee folks like us.
Immy’s nascent mill in Karisimbi is still a small and temporary setup. This year’s output--her first
ever--was only around 1,300 pounds total. But she has pretty big plans, and we hope to partner
with her for years to come.
Tasting notes: As corgis scuttle under the table, Karisimbi lifts her host’s Limoges cup of
chrysanthemum tea to her lips. She wonders: Are the peaches, cherries, and grapes on display
just for looks, or should she help herself? She slips a couple sugar cubes in her pocket for later.
She can’t resist.
Huye
1,700- 1,800 meters
Bourbon
We would never tell anyone to “follow” anyone else on any sort of social media “platform” or
anything else. But if you had been wasting your life following us back in the summer of 2015, you
would have noticed that we visited a place called Rwanda.
You might have seen our photo of a coffee mill worker garbed in a white lab coat, or other photos
of Simbi, which ranks among the cleanest and most highly organized mills we’ve ever encountered.
We didn’t “post” (as the kids say) photos of the density channels and multiple c-bends that
progressively ensure quality as coffee gets washed at the Simbi mill. But they exist, and they’re
part of Simbi’s great hybrid of every washing system we’ve ever seen: density, washing, tanks--all
in beautiful condition and working in concert.
Simbi itself is only three years old, and has produced incredible coffee every year. This is the
second year that we’ve bought it. The owner, Abdoul Rudahunga, built it to match his vision. He
has designed impeccable raised beds leading directly downhill to a natural mountain spring, among
other feats of engineering.
On the human side, he’s dedicated himself to maintaining a good relationship with his farming
neighbors and employees. We heard over and over that Simbi was a great working environment-IRL, as we say.
Tasting notes: Simbi is approachable and sweet. Think of an old white Mustang convertible
covered in bumper stickers, with tangerine and nectarine peels under the passenger seat... parked
in front of a stand selling pink lemonade.
La Palma
1,500 - 2,000 meters
Pacas, Pacamara
We should apologize. For years we’ve been saying, “Our decaf is way better than it needs to be.”
But really, that’s not true. It needs to be this good.
When you want to make a statement, sometimes you have to go above and beyond, or over the
top, or whatever. Our statement? Decaffeinated coffee is coffee. And coffee should be great. The
coffee industry in general, and even some of the fancy coffee world, simply doesn’t care about
decaf. Which sucks.
Think about it in terms of some other produce, like apples. First a harvest of fresh and tasty apples
arrives at the grocery. Eventually, the bruised and distressed apples get discounted, and then
maybe dropped in a free box for the employees. Those old and ugly apples left in the free box after
being discounted and even offered for free... are better than most decaf.
This coffee, on the other hand, is the fruit of four years of direction-asking and aimless driving up
1,500 meter mountains on the El Salvador-Honduras border region called Chalatenango (“Chalate”).
That’s where we found Los Chelazos. We brought Los Chelazos here to SF to taste, then forwarded
it along for reverse osmosis decaffeination by Swiss Water Process in British Columbia.
Because it really needs to be this good. We’re sorry.
Tasting notes: The little luxuries of twentieth century England, all in one coffee: almonds dipped
in milk chocolate and apricot marmalade. You might as well stroll down the garden path to
investigate the bustle in your hedgerow.
G OL JO,
ETH IOP IA
LOT SIZE: 1,500 lbs.
Is it better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all? Yes, of course it
is! Life is for living, love is for sharing, and these coffees--however little there may
be of them--are for drinking.
They really should be more expensive. They should only be available for preorder on the third Tuesday of the month. They should be packaged inside limited
edition mini-totes, wrapped inside limited edition canisters, and tied with limited
edition ribbons.
Every year we cup through upwards of 100 day-lots from Retana. (Each day-lot might be separated
by picking day, variety, and quadrant of farm.) This particular lot of Retana is a single Red Bourbon
day-lot from the beginning of the harvest. We aren’t sure what made this particular lot so exceptional.
We just know it’s worthy of the SMALL treatment.
Tasting notes: “Hey, the Retana is like cherry cola fruit leather, with a vicious mouthfeel.” “You
mean ‘viscous,’ right?” “Yeah, that too! So heavy and enchanting, like Pete’s Dragon or something.”
But time is fleeting, and every second spent untangling that ribbon is time that
could be better spent--better spent drinking these two coffees. Both of them
are sub-lots from producers we’ve worked with for years. They both presented
something exceptional on the cupping table, so we set them aside for a rainy day.
Well, that rainy day is now. Today is the day. Carpe the diem, as they say. These
should be on our menu for at least a few weeks to a couple months, but don’t
test it, taste it.
Life is for drinking.
LOT SIZE: 1,950 lbs.
This is the Maragogype separation from Anibal’s farm--his Caturra is among our usual offerings.
The first time we visited Anibal’s farm, we hiked straight uphill, from the base of his farm to the
Honduras-bordering peak. Up at the top, a south-facing expanse of beautiful Maragogype came
into view, like a mirage. Since that day, Anibal has sent us separated samples of this lot, and now
here we are, with an outstanding SMALL lot.
Tasting notes: As wild as a washed coffee gets, this tropical trajectory trips from turf to tree-tops:
lemongrass, dulce de membrillo, mango, coconut.
SAN
J UAN
SAC ATA P E Q U E Z ,
G UAT E MA LA