ITs been a while since I wrote about a roast.
I figure its number 20.
A short sequence from my 20th roast.
I usually roast about 4-5lbs of coffee at a time about once a year . Then, after the roast I celebrate by sparking up the ibriki and make myself some Armenian coffee, then I read the cup.
Usually it tastes terrible, but this time it tasted pretty delicious, I don’t use sugar it’s just the good stuff, BUT this sumatran robusta coffee and it isn’t much for drinking but for developing film, paper and glass plates, cross processing film, making reversals and other stuff.
I used to use instant coffee for caffenol , but who makes 8oz of developer? And who can afford instant coffee? My annoyance was in 2 stages. First it was because the recipe I used was with Teaspoons and Tablespoons of coffee and Washing Soda and Vit C, and I had to multiply and scoop the ingredients like I was working at DunkinDonuts, just shoveling it in the container, that got old fast and I just started to pour and not measure the coffee and co conspirators. Every other darkroom session I was buying more instant, it was getting expensive.
I got tired of the dance bought about 100lbs of pure robusta green beans. This was almost 20 years ago, they came in 3 of these plastic bags with about 30lbs in each bag. I am finally almost done with the 2nd bag. I’d use more of it but caffenol for me is in a gallon tub and I re-use it and it lasts for about a year.
From 1030 to about 12 neighborhood was full of smoke, as I roasted.
The yellowish rocks turned brown, the parchment turned to carbon and blew away in the wind some cracked twice.
After each batch, I dumped the hot beans in a paper bag and left for a little while so they cool, and after 4 I stopped, and started the ritual.
I looked for the ibriki. I found it, it was on the fridge.
I rinsed it and reached deep in the paper bag and came out with a handful of warm brown beans to grind to dust on the finest setting my grinder has. I put them in the jezvah with water, then I turned up the heat on the coil.
the mud swelled, and rolled, I removed from the heat so it didn’t boil. back on the heat, again until It foamed 3 times: I brought it to the cup to drink. It was sweet and floral, like summertime grass; it was smoky and I could taste the char, it reminded me why I do this.
I put the saucer on top and flipped it. I waited and thought of photographs I’d make.
3 turns on the saucer and my print on the bottom of the cup
“Let my fortune match my state”
Then I saw it.
