Doug Zell is a guy I don’t know, but I admire. He founded Intelligentsia, a coffee company well known for innovation and quality, a leader in both categories. Intelligentsia is a coffee company many coffee people look up to, me included.
On his blog a few days ago, Mr. Zell outlined a call to action for craft roasters. He suggests that in addition to a Roasted On date, we begin to include the crop harvest month and year on the bag. The logic is as straightforward as it is unassailable: coffee is a seasonal, agricultural product. Harvest date is relevant to cup quality, even if it’s not a perfectly linear thing.
I thought about his post today, and it’s impossible to disagree. In striving for coffee excellence, harvest information, in addition to roast date, is a relevant discriminator for consumers. It also achieves the goal of taking consumer education to the next level. I was ready to sign on, and commit our small company to adding one more little unregulated factoid to each bag. Because it’s a great idea, really.
And that gave me pause. Just a little. But it was there.
It made me think about teaching. My own career as an academic was brief, but enlightening to me. As a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed adjunct professor, I taught students in areas where I had deep domain expertise, and they had little to none. Since I was an undergraduate instructor, the material, to me, was basic and easy to grasp. So I drove my students at a pace and with a fervor that I thought was appropriate. They were going to LEARN, by God.
Some (many?) of them did. But… a couple of them actually cried along the way (and not tears of joy). And pretty much all of them thought I was Satan’s spawn. Because I drove them hard (which I still think is acceptable), but in an attempt to get them to a place they didn’t want to be. Their aspirations weren’t my aspirations, but I couldn’t see that. And I didn’t get the difference between real education (something driven from within) and technical instruction (something driven from outside). Sure, I was a technical instructor. But I was also part of their educational process, and I didn’t understand how that translated into how I should deliver the content.
Ultimately, I quit. Because I had big plans. And spoon-feeding undergraduates wasn’t part of them. So I left. And went on to actually do some great things professionally, of which I’ll be forever proud.
But I’m not proud of how I treated those students. I was young. I was earnest. I was well-intentioned, if a bit impatient. But nonetheless, I failed them. They needed something different than what I had to offer at the time.
And so it is with this.
Somebody asked me recently what I liked best about starting this business. I thought about it, and my answer surprised me. What I like best are the customers. I like the fact that they are hungry for knowledge (and passionate, and caring, and friendly). And I like the fact that I can be of some service in that regard.
I’m a little older now. I listen a little more. I understand a little better what people want out of me – my people (my customers), at least.
And it’s not coffee graduate school.
Harvest date may not seem like a graduate school concept to some of the people who read this. But believe it or not, it is to many if not most coffee consumers. I was reminded of this today, when a customer was in our shop, and happily commented that we had recently taught her that coffee came from a tree.
That is pretty fundamental.
And this is in a place where the education and wealth of the average person blows away the national average. A place named “America’s Foodiest Small Town by Bon Appetit magazine. If these people don’t know coffee comes from a tree, I will hazard a guess that it’s not a generally well-known fact.
I don’t mean any of this as a criticism of our customers, or consumers more broadly. I attribute their lack of knowledge to a generation spent trying to distance us from the source of our food – roasting their own coffee was not uncommon in my grandparents’ generation, yet many of their grandchildren don’t even know that coffee comes from a tree. I applaud the desire to recapture the knowledge gap that has developed. And I’m pleased to be part of closing that gap, the heavy lifting even. In this phase of my life, I’m enjoying the undergraduates.
But the frontiers of knowledge must be advanced. And so I happily cede the coffee graduate curriculum to Mr. Zell and his ilk. They do important work, and it should be acknowledged.
But let’s never forget that education is a process, and not every student is ready for advancement. Of course, we will keep our office hours, and be prepared to answer the one-on-one questions from the advanced students. Harvest dating is likely to be among those questions.
But for now, we’ll tuck that harvest dating suggestion into our “future reference” file, and take it out when our students are ready.
What do you think?
Jim- this is a really great post… and was in itself very educational. Your knowledge of coffee is obviously immense, but your passion for the subject is really what draws me in. Keep up the good work! Charlene
I like the idea, more so because it separates you more from the aged grocery store bags.
Your a great teacher too, You taught me how to properly tamp and prepare my espresso. And most recently to let a trained professional work on your grinder!!!!