i’m thinking of taking a coffee course, i said one day in april.
four of my ex-coworkers sat around the dining table. we were at my then-manager’s apartment somewhere south of the city, where she invited us for a housewarming at her lovely new place. it was my first time saying the idea out loud, and it didn’t sound as bad or stupid as it was in my head. everyone was excited. they encouraged me to go ahead.
my coffee arc started in college, much like most people, driven by essays and ultimately sealed by the dreadful monster that was my undergraduate thesis. i liked drinking coffee more out of habit rather than actual love—i definitely didn’t use to chug it black as i often do now. but something did grow out of it, resembling something like love.
it might be passion. fascination. interest? whatever. it’s a taste i grew to adore, the rich bitterness and lingering sweetness behind it. i never craved the sleep-repelling effect much. i just want to know more, i recalled thinking as i scrolled through ads for the course. to understand what makes it good. how to make it good.
it still took me months to finally sign up for that course.
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the backstory is long and due for another post, maybe, sometime in the future when i no longer lack the maturity to scrutinize my more vulnerable thoughts out in the open. the short version is i got laid off from my job in march. the moment was monumental and every bit self-defining as any life-changing event does to someone young, but it kickstarted a grand saga of having too much time on my hands.
my life used to be dictated by tight schedules and rituals. i had to spend at least twenty minutes every morning sitting alone by my porch before work or else it’d ruin my entire day, because i’d spend the next nine hours in front of my screen and won’t move again save for food or the toilet. whether i could run an errand outside the house would depend on how many meetings i had that day, and when—this would also define whether i would pay attention to my friends, and how mindful i would be when i needed to be present for them that day. it felt questionable, having your rhythm be guided by work. i was restricted, but also, in a way, liberated from the obligations of making decisions; including figuring out how to spend my time and what i should use my brain for.
suddenly i woke up with absolutely nothing on my agenda. it fucked up how i saw mondays for months. to have your projects handed over from you without closure—that’s another thing to get over. on the other hand, it was very much like going through a sudden detox. the idleness threw me for a loop at first, but of course, then comes the silver lining: i was absolutely free.
eventually i got things done. i did my prep and pursuit for grad school. i took lots of trips, spent time with my family, and started writing passion projects i never could’ve done if i still worked full-time. i plowed through games i’d queued for ages, got back into reading, and went through a lot of exciting firsts. but this one thing stood out on my to-do list like a boulder. five months passed and somehow i kept skirting around that course. i also wondered why.
for one, price was a factor. i was aware of how comprehensive the class would be, consequently costing more than average short courses. it unnerved me for a bit, seeing as to how i won’t be switching careers to be a barista nor plan to open a coffee shop anytime soon. ultimately i settled with the unshakeable mantra of no knowledge will ever go to waste. there is no expiration date for lessons learned.
who knows. maybe if someone stops me on the street to ask the ideal temperature range to steam milk for a latte, i’d be able to answer without missing a beat.
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the thing about being idle is that you tend to make justifications for your free time even when nobody is holding you accountable. and so when i arrived for my first class one tuesday in september, i was a little anxious about the possibility that i would be asked about my current activities. i was so stressed that i forgot that nobody would fucking care anyway.
it’s funny that even after rightfully being able to say i’m filling up my gap year before starting school, the label that sticks strongest with me is that i’m jobless. i knew i struggled a lot being okay with this state—still am—because the rituals and regularity of work and being helplessly busy was my identity for as long as i could remember. as much as my seniors at work advised against it, it inevitably gave me value. i work. i’m good at it. i actually like working, even if it tires me out. made me feel smart.
i did try a new motto afterwards. i’m free! i reminded myself, i have absolutely nothing to do! i am no longer chained by the vicious schedule of a miserable employee. but it sounded more like a pathetic excuse to feel good at that time. i braced myself for the worst.
our instructor skipped introductions, merely asked us to exchange names, and went straight to the material. i never felt stupider.
aside from the brief magnification of my insecurity, nothing else idiotic happened. well, one. but i’ll tell you later on.
things were a lot less dumb after that. i was practically required to focus and be a student again, which was fun; but also because life works in that funny little way it sometimes does, as if the world isn’t small enough.
there were supposed to be three people in my batch, but one didn’t show up. turns out i had mutual friends with the other person. she was a grad student at my alma mater, and even went to a high school that had some affiliations with mine. as a result, all through the course, we behaved like two old friends who hadn’t seen each other forever.
our instructors kept thinking we were classmates before this, and it was the most wholesome thing. the course felt like a private class where we were allowed to record our practice brewing sessions while laughing and having fun; it was a privilege and pure luck.
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we spent three days taking notes and brewing and pouring and tasting and making poor latte art. there were so many things novel and fascinating, but what i can tell you for sure is that by the first day, i sipped so much coffee i had a migraine. i suck at cupping. but everyone does at first, our instructor says.
cupping is the methodical evaluation of the aroma and taste characteristics of beans. we do it to understand the coffee profile, essentially. there’s a whole set of metrics and indicators to adhere to, as well as a robust scoring system. identifying the tasting notes, however, relies solely on the individual’s palate. you’d have to be able to reach a consensus with another grader (or have impeccable sense) to accurately determine how the beans taste. this skill, of course, takes years to hone.
i think it has something to do with being a great cook. my course-mate bakes a lot, and the way she confidently jotted down the tasting notes made me envy her taste buds. ninety percent of the coffee aroma, my instructor said, comes from its flavor, and it is objective. why did i only taste sweetness or acidity the entire time? you see, if you think the coffee tastes like some kind of fruit, you can’t just write fruity—you have to identify it. is it like berry-like or citrusy? is it like ripe fruits or dried ones? eventually, you have to name the exact fruit.
if it’s sweet, you have to detect what kind of sweetness it is. fruit-sweet (which has its branches again), or sugar-sweet, like caramel, honey, or molasses? if it’s nutty, is it more cocoa-based or, well, like a nut—almond, hazelnut, or peanuts? then comes floral and spice notes as well. did you know there are five types of acid in a coffee, all of which taste differently? the flavor wheel seems endless to me, and impossible to master. i felt like being doused with ice water at this point; fruits are hardly a part of my (unhealthy) diet. damn. the instructor told me to get into a habit of eating it. no buts. yes sir. (i still haven’t.)
we went through aroma challenges where we sniffed tubes dripped with essences. our instructor wanted us to differentiate between green and black grapes, lemon and lime. you think this tube has a herby scent, but what does it exactly smell like? he told us that we need to be able to tell when coffee smells unpleasant—‘dry distillation’, he called it. we smelled soy sauce and mint and cucumber. coffee doesn’t mean that it has to taste bitter, he said. bitterness can be nice when it is soft and does not linger, like dark chocolate.
theory modules were enjoyable for me. coffee goes a long way. my country is located in the earth’s “coffee belt”, which has optimum rain, temperature, and altitude for plantations. it was fun, knowing that beans from sumatra tend to taste bold with hints of spices, while beans from west java tend to taste fruity. we saw how altitude impacts flavor, how various fermentation processes work, and which roast profiles are meant for different brewing methods.
then came the hands-on sessions that reminded me of science experiments. it did seem that way, i swear—the precision required to bring out the perfect taste was unbelievable. from timing, to water temperature, to heat, to the grind size, down to how to store beans… we used grinders and V60 tools and espresso machines. we had an endless attempt at latte art. we learned the sizes and volumes for various coffee menus and the correct distinction between an americano and a long black (the eternal discourse…).
i thought about all the coffee i wasted brewing the wrong way. well. that’s the cost of knowing your mistakes.
more than anything, i still mourn over my dull tongue.
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i talked about the discontent of being idle with
a while back. how i knowingly chose rest this year, but still felt restless about it—guilt kept crawling back, knowing full well that i might be wasting my time while other people moved on with their life and made money and filled their time. somehow, productivity is a quicksand. you are free to interpret it how you want, but other contrasting notions about it keep tripping you up.that might have something to do with the environment we’re familiar with, she said. because people around us are busy and always working, that makes us feel like we have to do the same, too. i nodded, because that made a lot of sense.
you know, the coffee course you took a while ago, she said after that, that must’ve felt really nice, then, for you. that you got to do it.
yes. it did feel nice, i think, even though i embarrassed myself in front of my (really cool) barista instructor.
in which i sipped espresso directly from the spoon she held up instead of taking the spoon like a normal person. and i only realized how stupid that was after doing it twice. can a person get any dumber? this isn’t ao3.
at least today i made really good coffee.
