Letters from the Kitchen Counter
What surprised me most was how little equipment it needed. A cheap grinder holds you back more than a cheap kettle.
What I kept
The shift showed up bit by bit, then all at once. Most mornings I just want a good, simple cup. Grind size changes more than any other variable.
The best advice I got was simply to slow down. The first twelve weeks were mostly about unlearning. Light roasts reward patience and slightly hotter water.
Here is what altered, and what stayed exactly the same. The first three weeks were mostly about unlearning. The trick, if there is one, is to leave sufficient room for mistakes.
- Do less cupping, more grinding by hand
- Note the date and the weather
- Leave room for gentle mistakes
- Give grinding by hand a full autumn
The middle part
The first ten weeks were mostly about unlearning. Weigh the coffee and the water; guessing is half the problem. I tried the washed version first. It did not last. There is a version of this that is much more complicated. This is not that version. I altered my mind about water chemistry twice while writing this.
I altered my mind about cold brew twice while writing this. Most problems with light roasts turn out to be problems with time. I wrote most of this on a calm Monday morning. The bloom is not ceremony; it lets the gas escape. Some of this will be plain; some of it took me years.
Between tasting side by side and brewing pour-over, the second one taught me more.
First steps
It took me eight attempts to see the pattern. I altered my mind about tasting jottings twice while writing this. The specifics matter less than the practice of paying attention. I altered my mind about filter papers twice while writing this.
A friend once described brew ratios as calm work, and the phrase stuck. I would rather do one thing with care than five things fast. Most of what I know about pour-over came from getting it wrong first.
Odds and ends
A french press helps, but it is not the point. In June the light changes, and so does the work. In December the light changes, and so does the work. Thanks for reading, and for the generous jottings that keep arriving.
I keep coming back to tasting jottings, mostly because it rewards patience.