Uncommon Grounds: The History of Coffee and How It Transformed Our World

by Mark Pendergrast

  For the study, Rossiter agreed to abstain from caffeine for two days. “It felt like a migraine, just right behind your eyes. It was like someone had a little knife digging out your brains.” Caffeine withdrawal symptoms include headaches, drowsiness, fatigue, decreased performance, and, for extreme cases, nausea and vomiting. Rossiter made it through the two days but refused to kick the habit permanently.

  “There is a real withdrawal syndrome,” caffeine researcher John Hughes emphasized, “even for those who consume as little as 100 milligrams (one cup of coffee) a day.” Hughes considered it ridiculous that coffee, tea, and cola containers do not currently have to specify the amount of caffeine they contain. He espoused a warning label: “Abrupt cessation of caffeine can cause headache, drowsiness, and fatigue.”

  Despite the pain of caffeine withdrawal, it only lasts a week or so. As addictions go, it is a relatively harmless one. “Addiction has lost whatever vestige of clear scientific definition it ever had,” caffeine researcher Peter Dews said. “Most people are addicted to caffeine-containing beverages, just as most are addicted to showers and regular meals. That is not a bad thing. It is a habit that can be indulged for a lifetime without adverse effects to health.”133

  Maybe. The habit has such a hold on us that there are innumerable Web sites, chat rooms, blogs, and newsgroups on the Internet devoted to coffee. Perhaps it isn’t just the caffeine. There are 2,000 other chemicals in the roasted bean—oils, caramels, carbohydrates, proteins, phosphates, minerals, volatile acids, nonvolatile acids, ash, trigonelline, phenolics, volatile carbonyls, and sulfides—making it one of the most complex of food products. Still, I suspect it’s the caffeine that binds most of us to coffee.

  The Coffee Tour in Costa Rica

  Historically, the best beans have been exported, but as domestic markets become more sophisticated, and as tourists flood the tropical paradises where coffee thrives, there will be an increasing demand for better quality in the producing countries. About 26 percent of the world’s coffee is consumed where it is grown. Ethiopians and Brazilians have become so fond of the beverage that they are consuming almost half of their own production.

  In Costa Rica, Steve Aronson sells Café Britt, his “strictly hard bean” (meaning high-grown, high-quality) specialty offering. Aronson, a Bronx native, has spent his entire career in coffee trading or roasting. By the early 1990s, with Costa Rican tourism booming, he saw an opportunity. For years Costa Rican law forced all coffee exporters to sell 10 percent of their beans at a government auction for domestic use. The prices were so low that exporters could have gotten more money abroad for even their blackest beans. As a result, the exporters often would sell 2 percent of their beans, buy them back, resell them, and continue this recycling until they had sold 10 percent in volume, but not in fact.

  To counter such subterfuge, the government dumped beans to be auctioned into a vat of blue dye, to prevent their being resold, thus making them even less palatable. By law, it was illegal to sell high-quality beans in Costa Rica. Aronson successfully lobbied to change the law and to do away with the blue-dye fiasco. He then sold his Café Britt beans in upscale Costa Rican supermarkets, hotels, restaurants, and offices. It was consequently much easier to find a decent—indeed, superior—cup of coffee. I can testify that the regular brew is horrific. I had perhaps the worst coffee of my life—weak, bitter, and tasting faintly of ammonia—one morning in Costa Rica’s Central Valley, the epicenter of the coffee industry.

  Taking advantage of the one-way valve, Aronson pioneered in another way as well. He roasted, bagged, and sold his beans worldwide through an 800 number (800-GO-BRITT) and air courier service, cutting out all middlemen. U.S. consumers pay about $11 a pound (including shipping) for their specially delivered beans. Aronson attracts most of these customers through the Coffee Tour show at his roasting plant in Heredia. There, tourists pay $20 to watch attractive, energetic young actors present a whirlwind history of coffee in English and Spanish. And what better way to end the tour than to buy some Café Britt? Some 40,000 people annually troop through the Coffee Tour, making it Costa Rica’s third biggest tourist attraction—and 10 percent of them become regular customers back home.

  As other entrepreneurs roast and sell coffee in producing countries, perhaps the profits from coffee will be distributed somewhat more evenly. Café culture itself is apparently going global, with specialty coffeehouses popping up across the Pacific Rim, where tea traditionally has dominated.

  Winged for Posterity

  Only one thing is certain about coffee, though. Wherever it is grown, sold, brewed, and consumed, there will be lively controversy, strong opinions, and good conversation. “The best stories [are told] over coffee,” wrote a wise commentator in 1902, “as the aroma of the coffee opens the portals of [the] soul, and the story, long hidden, is winged for posterity.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Researching and writing the first edition of Uncommon Grounds took three years, which included much travel and archival research. I should have kept better records of the many people who helped me along the way. If anyone feels left out, please put it down to my memory rather than my intent.

  Thanks first to my ever-patient agent Lisa Bankoff. Tim Bartlett was the editor for the first edition at Basic, along with his assistant, Caroline Sparrow. In addition, my freelance editor, Regina Hersey, helped me prune over a third of the original manuscript and to shave this edition. Michael Wilde, copyeditor, also provided constructive comments on the contents. Tim Sullivan edited this second edition, with assistance from Adam Kahtib.

  Many other people read portions of the manuscript and made helpful suggestions, including Betty Hannstein Adams, Rick Adams, Mané Alves, Irene Angelico, Mike Arms, Ian Bersten, Dan Cox, Kenneth Davids, Margaret Edwards, Max Friedman, David Galland, Roland Griffiths, Marylen Grigas, John Hughes, Jack James, Wade Kit, Russ Kramer, Liz Lasser, Ted Lingle, Jane McCabe, Chris and Penny Miller, Bill Mitchell, Betty Molnar, Alfred Peet, Britt and Nan Pendergrast, John and Docie Pendergrast, Scott Pendergrast, Marino Petracco, Joanne Ranney, Larry Ribbecke, Donald Schoenholt, Steve Schulman, Tom Stevens, David Stoll, Steve Streeter, Steven Topik, Blair Vickery, and K. K. Wilder. Of course, I alone am responsible for the contents.

  I must single out Betty and Rick Adams from that list. Betty appears as a character in the book, particularly in the final chapter. She was also a thoughtful reader of the manuscript. In this book’s Notes on Sources, Rick appears as Richard N. Adams, the anthropologist. In Guatemala, he was my part-time chauffeur as well as guide, and his criticism of some oversimplifications in the original manuscript helped keep me honest. Both were gracious hosts when I visited Finca Oriflama in Guatemala.

  I also want to thank the many e-mail correspondents who helped brainstorm the book title. Coincidentally, Uncommon Grounds is also the name of a fine coffeehouse in Burlington, Vermont.

  I could not have completed this book without the help of research assistants William Berger, Brady Crain, Jan DeSirey, Erica De Vos, Chris Dodge, Shad Emerson, Sherecce Fields, Meg Gandy, Denise Guyette, Margaret Jervis, John Kulsick, Liz Lasser, and Dhamma Merion. Many thanks to Chris Dodge, Peter Freyd, Henry Lilienheim, my parents, and others who acted as my “coffee clipping service.”

  Helena Pasquarella took photos from old periodicals that appear in the illustrations, and I am grateful to Greg Arbuckle, Brad Becker, and Jerry Baldwin for help with other illustrations. In conjunction with his film on coffee, David Ozier shared archival music and video footage. Jane McCabe, then editor of the Tea & Coffee Trade Journal, generously granted permission to reprint illustrations from that publication’s pages.

  Librarians and archivists helped me at the Hartman Center at Duke University, the Rockefeller Archives (Tarrytown, New York), the Underhill Public Library (Vermont), the Brownell Library (Essex Junction, Vermont), Bailey-Howe Library at the University of Vermont, the National Archives, the Library of Congress, the New York Public Library, the South Street Seaport Muse
um, the Archives Center at the National Museum of American History (Smithsonian), CIRMA (Antigua, Guatemala), Syracuse University Special Collections, Stanford University Special Collections, and the International Coffee Organization in London. I was particularly indebted to librarians/archivists/curators Anne Dornan, Ellen Gartrell, Bill Gill, Steven Jaffe, Tab Lewis, Ginny Powers, Tom Rosenbaum, Allison Ryley, and Martin Wattam.

  In general, I found members of the coffee industry to be passionate about their product and eager to help with this project. See the Note on Sources for the long list of interviewees who shared their time and memories. I want to single out a few people. Donald Schoenholt generously shared his vast knowledge of coffee history and meticulously reviewed the manuscript. T. Carroll Wilson, who joined Hills Brothers in 1924, took me through eight decades of his life in coffee. Dan Cox gave me hours of his time and expertise. Russ Kramer shared his wonderful private coffee library. Coffee exporter Klaus Monkemüller, who ran Unicom, hosted me on my initial forays in Guatemala. Bill McAlpin put me up at La Minita and shared his firmly held convictions. Doug Mitchell, the travel agent who ran Café Away, made the three-week SCAA visit to Honduras, El Salvador, and Nicaragua a well-planned pleasure. Ted Lingle shared with me his knowledge and the resources of the Specialty Coffee Association of America, just as Robert Nelson allowed me to rummage through the National Coffee Association files and helped me in other ways as well. Starbucks executive Dave Olsen granted a lengthy interview, and for the second edition I interviewed CEO Howard Schultz and other executives. Thanks to Sanja Gould of Starbucks for her enthusiastic help and encouragement.

  Other coffee experts who unselfishly helped were Mane Alves, Jerry Baldwin, Ian Bersten, Kenneth Davids, George Howell, Fred Houk, Kevin Knox, Erna Knutsen, Sherri Miller, Alfred Peet, Rick Peyser, and Gary Talboy. Thanks to Green Mountain Coffee Roasters for allowing me to be a student for a day at the company’s Coffee College in Waterbury, Vermont, and to illycaffé for inviting me to attend Universita del Caffe in Trieste.

  Like most writers, I couldn’t afford standard accommodations during my research forays. I was fortunate to stay with varied and interesting hosts—Sue Taylor in Fairfax, Virginia; Dan McCracken, Roz Starr, and Grace Brady in New York City; Esperanza “Chice” Chacón and her daughter, Andrea, in Guatemala City; Rick and Betty Adams at Finca Oriflama and their home in Panajachel, Guatemala; Bill McAlpin’s La Minita in Costa Rica; Philip and Jessica Christey in London; Sheila Flannery in Chapel Hill; Brent and Janie Cohen in Oakland; and Britt and Nan Pendergrast (my parents) in Atlanta.

  The three largest coffee corporations at the time of the first edition—Philip Morris (Kraft-Maxwell House), Procter & Gamble (Folgers-Millstone), and Nestlé (Hills Brothers-MJB-Chase & Sanborn-Nescafé-Taster’s Choice-Sarks)—chose not to participate in this project, other than in a minimal way, so I had to rely primarily on interviews with former employees. Becky Tousey of the Kraft Archives provided background material about Maxwell House, however, and Nestlé headquarters at Vevey, Switzerland, sent me a fine published corporate history. Procter & Gamble provided a 1962 history of Folgers. Ogilvy & Mather (Maxwell House) and McCann-Erickson (Taster’s Choice) personnel were helpful.

  For this second edition, I am again particularly indebted to Donald Schoenholt of Gillies Coffee for his help and encouragement, as well as Silvia Carboni, Tim Castle, Karen Cebreros, Dan Cox, Owen Dugan, Frank Elevitch, Moreno Faina, Brian Franklin, Kyle Freund, Sanja Gould, George Howell, Russ Kramer, Mausi Kühl, Ted Lingle, Bill McAlpin, Graham Mitchell, Laura Peterson, Marino Petracco, Rick Peyser, Ric Rhinehart, Paul Rice, Robert Rice, Rolf Sauerbier, Susie Spindler, Yesenia Villota, Geoff Watts, Sandy Wynne, and Sandy Yusen

  Author Mark Pendergrast (left) looks down at his half-filled canasta, which he picked in the same time it took his caporal Herman Gabriel Camel (right) to harvest a full basket on Finca Oriflama in Guatemala.

  APPENDIX

  How to Brew the Perfect Cup

  Despite the mystique, brewing a good cup of coffee is relatively simple. Grind recently roasted whole beans of a high-quality arabica blend. Bring cold, pure water to a near boil. Let the not-quite-boiling water remain in contact with the ground coffee at the proper ratio—two tablespoons of coffee per six ounces of water—for four or five minutes. Pour the filtered coffee into your cup. Add sugar or cream if you prefer it that way. Drink immediately. Sigh contentedly.

  That really is all there is to it. Having said that, I have to admit there are finer points that true coffee aficionados discuss endlessly. What is the best grind for what kind of brewing method? Which is the best brewing device? How dark should the beans be roasted? Is it preferable to store roasted coffee in the freezer or the refrigerator? Which are the best beans for after-dinner enjoyment? Are paper filters okay to use? And God help you if you want advice on espresso, which is treated as if it were an esoteric art best performed by Leonardo da Vinci on speed.

  When I began writing this book, I thought I appreciated good coffee. Now I’ve slurped, swirled, and spat at cupping sessions, tried beans from Antigua to Zimbabwe, and own various brewing systems. Sometimes I even roast my own beans in my kitchen oven at 450°F using a Palani Plantation roasting pan—an aluminum pie plate with holes punched regularly in the bottom that set me back around $20, including a supply of green beans (fax/phone orders to 650-327-5774). In my oven, it takes about seven minutes until the first pop, when I can hear the beans crackling and expanding. With the oven fan on, I take them out at eleven minutes for a medium roast, then toss them in a colander outdoors to cool them. I blow on them to remove most of the brown chaff—the silver skin that pops off during the roast. It’s magic. Hard green beans that look something like peanuts come out of the oven nearly doubled in size and looking like roasted coffee.

  They taste like it too. The heat has caused a chemical alchemy inside the beans, caramelizing sugars and carbohydrates, producing chlorogenic acids, and releasing volatile aromatic oils. I grind my fresh-roasted beans in a burr grinder. Then I measure the right amount into my preheated press pot (sloshing hot water around in it does the trick). In the meantime, I’ve put a tea kettle on the stove until it’s whistling. I take it off the burner and let it sit for a few seconds, then pour the water in. Because the beans are freshly roasted, they still have a lot of carbon dioxide, and they foam up. I stir them down, add more water until the pot is full, cover it with the little piston, and read the paper for five minutes. Then I slowly press the plunger to the bottom and pour my cup.

  I like the press pot because it is so basic—it makes a real infusion, just the coffee and hot water. The drawback is that it’s annoying to clean, and the coffee cools off pretty quickly. Regardless of your brewing method, you should pour it into a thermos to keep it warm once it’s made. A paper filter system makes cleanup easier. For a superb, dramatic brew, use a vacuum system, if you can find one in a specialty shop. Or you can use an automatic electric brewer, but beware—only a few models get the temperature (should be 195°F) and brew time right. And don’t leave the coffee on the hotplate, where it will turn bitter quickly. You can even make a decent cup of coffee in a pumping percolator if you carefully regulate time, temperature, and grind, but I don’t advise it.

  If you’re not keen on coffee smoke in your kitchen (or setting off your smoke detector), and if you want professionally roasted coffee, you should find a local specialty roaster. Ask questions, and you’ll get suggestions for different blends and roast styles. For that bright wake-up cup, try a high-grown Guatemalan Antigua. For after-dinner coffee, how about a rich, full-bodied Sumatra? I cannot advise whether to purchase dark-roasted beans, since this is a matter of preference. I don’t like beans roasted just this side of charcoal, but many people love them. The main point, regardless of what roast or origin you choose, is to get freshly roasted coffee at frequent intervals, buying only what you plan to use in the coming week or so. Otherwise, your coffee will get stale, no matter how great it was to start with.

/>   If you don’t have a local roaster, order through the mail. I can’t recommend specific suppliers, but there are plenty of them. Or try your local supermarket. The choices have gotten better. If you buy bulk whole beans, ask the manager how frequently they are rotated. You don’t want to buy beans that have been staling for a couple of weeks. If you buy packaged beans, make sure they are all-arabica and that they come in a one-way valve bag.

  If you have to store your beans, put them in your freezer in an airtight container (with as little air in it as possible). You can grind and brew them straight from the freezer. It’s best to buy a superior burr grinder, but one of the blade whackers will do. The longer you let it whine, the finer your grind will be. Generally, the proper grind is determined by how long the grounds remain in contact with the hot water. For drip methods, a medium grind allows the flavorful solubles to be dissolved in five minutes. Longer contact with water just extracts bitterness. For my press pot, I use a slightly coarser grind, since the water remains in full contact with all of the grounds for the entire brewing time. For espresso or vacuum brewing, you want a fine, powdery grind owing to a very short period of contact.

  If you’re into espresso, there are many kinds of expensive machines. And if you really want great espresso, go to your favorite coffeehouse and buy it there. Or buy one of the single-serving machines from Keurig, Nespresso, illycaffé or others.

  If you want to flavor your coffee, try easy-to-find natural additives first. The Ethiopians and Arabs used cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, citrus rinds, or ground nuts. They didn’t know about cocoa or vanilla. Various forms of liquor work well. Whipped cream is nice. If you must, use flavoring syrups after you’ve brewed the coffee, or buy preflavored beans. Remember—whatever you like is okay.