I'm frequently asked "Where's the best coffee?" I guess people think that since I'm in the coffee business, I must know the "in" places, the "hip" places and "the best" places. But, to be perfectly frank, I don't drink coffee at many places. Usually I'm too scared to try the coffee.
And while I've been exposed to and drank some of the world's top coffees, can I really say that they were "the best"? I don't think so.
For me, "the best" coffee happens in the most unexpected of places. From the wild blueberry of Stumptown's Ethiopia Harrar way back in September 2003 to the otherwise undistinguished blend of coffees at the local greasy spoon that went oh so perfectly with my pancakes to sitting at home sharing a coffee with my father (a self-professed connoisseur of Taster's Choice).
Other times, the unexpected happens. Like the coffee from Colombia that we procured from Hines / Origins Coffee in Vancouver. Colombian so good that it was truly delicious.
Or the bag of Kenya that was a gift during my end of the year run to Denver from Mike and Hugo at Allegro. I pressed and drank that coffee greedily at home every day until it was all gone.
Of course, I have the advantage of a ready supply of freshly roasted coffee at my disposal. But the truth is that I hardly ever have the best stuff at home. I leave our best supply at The Spro, for our customers. Instead, I make do with pressed house blend that I have leftover from the lot I brought home for the family Christmas party.