Coffee is life. So why do I like burnt coffee?

I enjoy the unique taste of coffee which makes me a wholly un-unique person. It has a pleasant and interesting taste which differs from cup to cup.

I first got into coffee as a nurse. It was a mix of pragmatism, to stave off sleep, and because there was an expectation that nurses drank coffee. But now I enjoy it simply because I enjoy the taste, appreciate its various aromas, and delight in the making of the coffee (from roasting pan, grinding, through to percolating it). I also appreciate the way that it is associated with my morning routine and the way that it is associated with my social life, meeting with friends and acquaintances.

At first, my favourite coffees were the sachets with lots of sugar that were caramel flavoured. But times have changed. I now love a classic short black – just hot water through grounds, please. Ironically, we might say that my tastes have been refined for I no longer prefer the refined.

Nowadays I roast my own coffee. It was a long journey through life to get to this point, but I think the thread of coffee is somewhat representative of my life – representative of the journey itself.

It represents the unrefined in a refined world, the imperfect in a specialised world, the authentic in a mass-produced world, the analogue in a digital world, and the unrushed in a rushed world.

There is a world of difference between the caramel sachets from the supermarket to the home-roasted, home-ground, home-brewed coffee that I now make. We could say that the refined product is the product of a professionalised, perfected, and convenient process. Indeed, none of these is necessarily problematic. But in our current context, each element is so heavily present in society that it is worth highlighting the exchanges that take place so that we might have “unburnt coffee”.

My burnt coffee represents the imperfect in a specialised world. My coffee is good enough. Maybe only just. Maybe only 51% of the time. But preference dulls the edge on imperfection. I drink specialised coffee in our specialised world. At times I prefer it over my own and at other times I don’t. But whether I prefer it or not doesn’t diminish the fact that professionals made it with professional gear. While on the other hand, I have made very imperfect coffee. It is an unrefined process producing a product of imperfection. But is there a place to say a palate for the unrefined is more mature? We do it in some other ways. Children mature to appreciate foods beyond the simple and the refined. Similarly, we might argue thus for the appreciation of the imperfect as well. Some examples might be the op shop couch over an IKEA couch, or “imperfect picks” over the pear-shaped pears and the apples of our eyes.

Moving on, my burnt coffee represents authenticity regardless of its imperfection. The handmade has its maker’s touch (and some of his hairs floating around too). So every bean which is burnt, and every bean left slightly under-roasted (with the potential to break my grinder), is an authentic work of an artisan who himself is perhaps overcooked in some ways and undercooked in others.

My burnt coffee also represents the analogue in a digital world. You see I get imperfect, although authentic, burnt beans because I use a gas cooker and a thick pan with a wooden spatula. There is always going to be a margin of difference between the bean profiles and that’s because I’m using analogue methods. These methods are old school. There is no algorithm involved. There is much human error involved. But it is simple. Anyone can do it. It is cheap and affordable. The maintenance is minimal. The expectations are low. It has very clear limitations. There is little stress involved. It is analogue in a digital world.

And finally, it represents the unrushed in a rushed world. Making imperfect yet authentic burnt coffee with analogue methods takes time. It takes the time to roast and the time to wait for it to degas, and then the time to do it all over again to produce another small batch. Yet after all that time, I get freshly roasted beans. So although it takes me more time I’m closer to what I want and made. While in one sense, the rushed product leaves me further from what I want. Then consider that coffee is somewhat representative of hustle and rush, productivity and product. But it takes time to burn coffee.

No doubt striving for excellence is worthy. But equally, we should consider what determines excellence. A product is more than its measurable end qualities. It is also the cumulation of its process and even its maker’s motivations. It is part of an interconnected network of relationships – “my mum’s soup”, “my neighbour’s veggies”, “my friend’s signature dish”, and “my mate’s home-roasted burnt coffee”.

But at the end of the day is it really all a metaphor for my life? Or am I just justifying the fact that I make, drink, and serve burnt coffee?