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I
am sure most of my readers sip coffee, black or with
milk, at least one or two cups a day. This is not
news for people born and bred in a coffee-sipping
culture in a country where the red and ripe berries
were first tasted by a shepherd from Keffa who
observed his goats and their kids running and
frolicking after chewing the wild but stimulating
beans.
I
had once picked the ripe berries from coffee trees
and chewed the cherries. I found them to be sweet
and juicy. I cannot remember the stimulating effects
they had on me.
This was decades ago when I was visiting an uncle
who used to live in a small town named Jaja in
Harragie province as it was known then. He had some
coffee trees in his backyard. That was also where I
had my first experience of sipping coffee. I was
giving a helping hand to the farmers who were
picking coffee in his garden. That was the time when
I realised that coffee picking is a toiling task
that has to be done with caution.
The farmers spread clean white sheets of cloth under
the coffee trees to protect the falling berries from
having any contact with the soil or any other
material that could downgrade the quality of the
beans. Only the ripe red beans are to be picked.
I
saw the traders checking carefully whether the
coffee beans are broken in the process of grinding
or cracking the skins. They smell the coffee beans
to check if they are aging as a result of long
periods of storage or whether or not they were
exposed to foreign bodies that affect the smell and
quality of the beans.
The farmers sort the black beans and clean the
better ones before they are brought to market. All
these details are also heard over the mass media as
routines of agitation by the concerned bodies that
fall short of telling us what should be done next
before we sip coffee.
Ours being a country well known for its coffee, the
general notion is that roasting and brewing coffee
is not an eyebrow-raising issue. Of course this
notion is proven wrong by people who have tried
their hands in the coffee roasting ritual.
Kibnesh is a middle-aged woman in my neighbourhood
well known as a cook of local food and beverage
including coffee. She is fond of making coffee for
many reasons.
She believes that the aroma of roasting coffee and
the sound of crushing roasted beans chase away the
evil spirits or the feeling of depression from
vulnerable people. She does not say anything about
the nicotine effects of coffee. She has an excuse to
enjoy the aroma to escape the foul smell that comes
from a pipe oozing waste water in the neighbourhood.
Kibnesh says that sipping coffee is a stimulating
ritual that shuts down an empty stomach. That is a
saving of money, effort and time in these days of
food price hikes, she says. Good for her perhaps.
But is coffee any cheaper than a loaf of bread?
Kibnesh prefers charcoal fire for making coffee for
better heat and longer service. She keeps fanning
the charcoal stove outdoors until the smoke of the
charcoal is ridden off and the fire burns fully
fledged looking like the hind part of a monkey.
She has a special pan used only for roasting coffee.
It is a small circular pan made of galvanized iron
with a long handle conveniently held with one hand
only. She warms the pan for a few minutes before she
puts the washed beans in the pan. She has no
thermometer or any means of measuring the required
temperature apart from her experience.
As
the heat increases, the moisture evaporates and the
beans start getting dry. She starts shaking the pan
to simmer the cracked beans so that they get the
heat evenly. Gradually the cherries get brown and
start emitting oil and the pleasant aroma. The beans
shine and stain the pan. Kibnesh keeps on shaking
the pan concentrating on the roasting process so
that it is not overdone.
The beans look dark brown and oily as the popping
sound gets louder and louder as if to warn her of
the time. When everything is done Kibnesh circulates
the pan in the room so that everybody could enjoy
the aroma. Some of the elderly guests try to direct
the steam towards their bodies and utter a few words
of blessing and say their simple folkloric prayers.
The roasted coffee is put to rest for sometime until
the beans get cooler and the gas escapes. In the
meantime, Kibnesh fills the coffee pot with a
reasonable amount of water and puts it on the
charcoal stove to boil. She sets the cups on a small
tool in front of her. She then pounds the roasted
beans in a mortar intentionally maintaining a rhythm
of emitting a reverberating sound she believes is
not only music for the village but also ammunition
to fend off depression.
When she is asked why she does not grind it with a
mechanical device, Kibnesh says that too much
powdering spoils the taste. Coffee should not
dissolve in the boiling water according to Kibnesh.
"We ought to sip clear liquid, not the dissolved powder."
Kibnesh argues that coffee should be hand-pounded
and not ground in the mill. She serves some token
snack like roasted corn as a prelude to sipping
coffee. Roasted maize corn is the best option these
days. |
