PRESS - AMERICAN COFFEE CULTURE

Originally published in Fresh Cup magazine.

Although we live in a country of immigrants owning many traditions, we seem intent on developing a new kind of coffee culture that is decidedly American. Our coffeehouses range from elegant to bohemian to suburban to slacker. American coffee culture exists as its own entity. It is not a reflection of Europe, but rather a frontier representing American individuality. Our drinking patterns run the gamut, and more of us than ever before are enjoying specialty coffee for its flavor. It's no wonder that specialty coffee consumption continues to thrive.

  There's no better place to begin an examination of the American coffee scene than on the West Coast. I spent seven years of my adult life in San Francisco, and my first sip of a West Coast dark roast from the now defunct Spinelli Coffee Company was nothing short of a metaphysical experience. My taste buds swooned and my heart raced. I knew immediately that this was the business for me.

  Not long after, on the tail end of a failed business venture, I took a job at Peet's Coffee & Tea as a so-called "coffee enthusiast," brewing great drip and pulling marvelous shots of espresso. I realize that there are many people in the Pacific Northwest who fiercely defend their region as the birthplace of specialty coffee, but honestly, it started in the always-revolutionary town of Berkeley, Calif., at the Peet's on Vine. From this one location, originally housing an in-store roaster, sprung a classic coffee company. Those who studied here went on to start many of the most respected roasteries around the country, all with an unwavering focus on quality.

  My job at Peet's consisted of brewing excellent coffee, making tasty drinks and leaving at the end of my shift. Never in my life was it so easy to make people happy by simply delivering a consistently high-quality product. That was nearly 10 years ago, and I haven't looked back since.

  The basis of West Coast coffee culture, although fueled by Peet's, most likely started in the heady days of the Beats, somewhere in North Beach in San Francisco, perhaps at a legendary spot like Caffe Trieste. There's nothing better than settling in on a Sunday morning with a newspaper (in this category The New York Times reigns supreme) and a fabulous cup of coffee or demitasse of espresso with the sun beaming through a slightly smudgy window. North Beach just might be the best place in the world to do this. The pace and natural beauty of the West Coast compels people to slow down and linger. Perhaps this is why American coffee culture still largely looks to the West for inspiration.

  What about the rest of the country? Any number of great roasters, roaster/retailers and coffeehouses are intricately tied to developing the American coffee scene in distinct ways in their own towns, cities or regions. Quality and care are not limited to one coast. I've had amazing coffee in Juneau, Alaska, Key West, Fla., and many points between. It is the so-called micro-roasters who really have an opportunity to push our coffee culture to the next level of enjoyment by providing super-fresh, stellar single-origin coffees and blazing espresso. These carefully roasted beans land in coffeehouses across the country, some in strip malls, some in inner cities, and some in bustling beach and mountain towns.

  As far as regional roast and flavor preferences, they are as varied as the topography of this great land. The West, and particularly the Pacific Northwest, is known for its dark roasts. But some of the best espresso I have ever had in the supposed espresso epicenter of the New World—Seattle—was by no means dark-roasted. It was a blend of coffees roasted full city, or just into "second pop," for those of you acquainted with roaster jargon. Still, a number of roasters in this part of the world do tend toward darkness when it comes to their roast of choice. Maybe it's because they figure this type of roast will stand up to all those milky concoctions their customers demand, or maybe it's because they simply like the hammer of intensity a dark roast can provide.

  In my current hometown of Chicago—representing the burgeoning Midwestern coffee scene—full city roasts tend to prevail. At Intelligentsia, my roasting company, this is the level we seem to turn to the most. But there are cold, lightless days when a great dark roast is just what we need to combat the wind, rain and snow. As of the printing of this article, drip coffee and espresso-based drinks are running neck and neck in the Midwest, both reaching new customers every day and converting many from stale, canned coffee. And if it's drip, more often than not it's enjoyed black.

  The East Coast harbors many talented roasters scattered in and around Boston and Philadelphia. There seems to be a tendency toward a lighter roast, but, of course, I cannot say this is always the case. I had some outstanding drip coffee and espresso on a recent trip to Philly, and it was not anywhere close to being light-roasted. I suspect that espresso and espresso-based drinks will never catch up to drip in this part of the world, as a big donut company beat the big coffee marketing company here by a number of decades. This may explain why a large portion of the population still seems to think that coffee is served exclusively with cream and sugar.

  The South represents a hodgepodge of tastes. Here, you can still find plenty of flavored concoctions with names like "pecan log roll" being passed off as specialty coffee. But a number of roasters in the Carolinas, Georgia and Florida are doing great work. Here again, the full city roast seems to have gained prevalence. Then there's New Orleans, where locals adore their dark roast mixed with chicory, hot milk and a beignet. I doubted this combination could be as good as many people had claimed, but when I tried it late one night at Café du Monde, it became clear why this is the stuff of legends. Miami offers yet another twist on the dark roast, served in a steaming cup of Café Cubano. Almost as much sugar as coffee, there is really nothing that better reflects the smoldering intensity and sweet flamboyance of the Latin influence on South Florida's coffee culture.

  The value that ambience can add to a cup of coffee or espresso cannot be underestimated. I was recently sitting in Miami's South Beach watching the world go by, when I was struck by the thought that the venue in which the coffee is served is almost as important as the coffee itself. Although my shot of espresso was pulled slightly long, the crashing surf, the palm trees, and the perfection of a sunny day contributed as much to my experience as the coffee itself.

  The venues serving specialty coffee around America keenly reflect regional differences. In the West, including those lovely mountain states, coffeehouses and cafés tend to be more sprawling, with a rambling, somewhat unorganized feel. They offer large outdoor seating areas and provide that delightful atmosphere where time is definitely not of the essence.

  In the East, there seems to be more of a European influence, perhaps from an earlier era, and there are spots that are very design-forward. Spaces are smaller and dearer. Time definitely passes more quickly here than in other parts of the country.

  The center of America seems to offer the most disparate array of styles, from mom-and-pop to holly hobby to hippy dippy to contemporary. Fireplaces are pervasive to help ward off what can seem like six months of winter. And you can bet that people in the Midwest will be sitting at an outdoor café long before any sane person would—sometime around the first heat wave, when the temperature tops a balmy 35 degrees.

  South of the Mason-Dixon Line national chains abound in the "New South" cities of Atlanta and Charlotte, N.C., while funky, bohemian independents thrive in towns like Austin, Texas, and Memphis, Tenn., where Elvis and the blues peacefully commingle. Southern culture has always understood the value of tranquility and hospitality. Both are offered in exaggerated portions throughout the coffeehouses of this region.

  The general state of affairs for coffeehouses and coffee retailers—the vehicles that help to drive our American coffee culture forward—is mixed. It's not easy to make ends meet if you are an independent in a major market like Chicago, New York or Los Angeles. Rent in major metropolitan areas can be in the stratosphere, and landlords are almost always looking for a national chain. In smaller markets, however, it seems like there is a greater number of prospering independents. Operating costs in these markets have typically been lower, and landlords are much more willing to give the so-called "little guy" a chance. Unfortunately, operating costs are rising everywhere, and I fear that in the not-too-distant future, every corner of America will be dotted with a giant coffee chain across from a giant bagel chain with some form of fast food filling out the remaining two corners. It will be a sad day when traveling around America simply leads us to more of what we have already seen.

  Organic, sustainable and fair-trade coffees are quickly finding a place in American coffee culture, particularly on the coasts. Environmental awareness is less entrenched in the Midwest, where I think the cold winters tend to make people cynical. I'm convinced that to turn people on to sustainable coffee, it must taste great. If a coffee is sustainable but tastes like cardboard and glue, a customer will not continue to support your store or the coffee. I'm fairly confident that this is the case in most parts of the country, although West Coast customers tend to be more forgiving. With the increasing presence of natural food stores and specialty grocers, and the rising number of excellent organic and sustainable coffees, I suspect this category will continue to see tremendous growth.

  In general, the level of coffee knowledge seems to be rising throughout the country, with customers inquiring about particular origins and preparations and asking for ristrettos and French-pressed coffees. This quest for coffee education is not unlike the public's desire to learn about wine over the past two decades. I suspect this thirst for knowledge will continue.

  So where is American coffee culture headed? As I've mentioned, sales of organic and sustainable coffees will continue to grow. The emerging trend will be one of regionalism, in that I think quality-focused independents will continue to thrive. Those that don't have their acts together will fall by the way. I suspect that Starbucks will continue to proliferate, with other chains duking it out (perhaps at their own expense) for the number two spot. Straight espresso and strong brewed black coffee will be elevated to their rightful place atop the coffee pantheon. And, ultimately, quality will reign supreme. A young man can dream, can't he?

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