Day One  

       I brush aside the swarm of pesky taxi-drivers and stumble blindly into the glare of the midday Costa Rican sun. I blink twice and a toothy mega-watt smile materializes before me like the grin of the Cheshire cat; followed by a ball cap, sunglasses and a wildly printed button-down. It is Alex Mason our Royal Coffee broker and junket guide disguised as a tourist, arms outstretched in a warm welcome. An icy bottle of water appears in my hand and a singular droplet of sweat evaporates on my forehead as I relax into the cool shotgun seat of my new "Tico" pal Dietrich's SUV. I am not alone in San Jose.

     A splash of water on my face, a whirlwind of introductions to fellow roasters and we weave like Indiana Jones through midtown traffic arriving at Dietrich's office, SuCafe. The offices surround a lush courtyard and all the windows are opened for the passing afternoon breeze. The kitchen is set for a tasting. We crowd around the Lazy Susan table and dive nose-first into ramekins of Pulped Natural Costa Rica coffee. This special brew is the brainchild of collaboration between importers Royal Coffee, Sucafe and the coffee cooperative Coopepalmares. The purpose of this trip for Alex Mason and Robert Fulmer of Royal Coffee is to evaluate the results of their collaboration and cup the individual micro lots. CoopePalmares, the sponsor of this uber-educational coffee experience has developed a new and innovative process that imparts the coffee beans with a sumptuous sweetness. The coffee cherries are sun-dried in their natural pulp (a deep red mucilage surrounding the "seeds") in special raised African beds constructed expressly for the project. A few of the Royal Coffee customers, such as myself, have been invited along for the learning experience.

     Our first cupping involves the traditional fully washed to 100% pulped natural coffee. I am entranced by the subtle differences in fragrance of the various ground samples. I smell the wafting aromas as hot water is poured over the grounds. I break the accumulation of grounds floating on top, known as the crust--and imagine curls of aromatic steam spiraling into my nostrils like on commercials. I smell wood, caramel, earth and crushed fruit. I try my best professional coffee slurp and let the brew rest heavy on my tongue before I swish it around like a Dixie cup of Listerine. Spitting has never been one of my talents, so I expectorate rather sheepishly into the tall spittoon. By the fifth sample tasting everyone is talking a little faster. By the time we pile into the Toyota and creep into the gridlock we know we are in foreign country. Rickety trains packed to the gills wobble by; teenagers on Kawasaki bikes slip through lines of Suzuki mini-vans to a chorus of honks. I sleep well that night.

Day Two

     Early the next morning our group of sixteen roasters, plus Tony and Fiorella of Tony Tours, file onto a turquoise bus with huge sparkling windows. One of my favorite pastimes is staring out automobile windows and this bus is a dream. I watch men with their cows leashed on ropes plod slowly up mountain switchbacks. They prod lagging calves playfully with twigs. Dogs doze peacefully on driveways and sidewalks. Every door, every window is opened for the breeze and old-timers rock back and forth in patios enclosed with colorful wrought iron bars. After a meandering drive through the hills of Palmares we arrive at the Joaquin Lorenzo Sancho Public School for a brunch with the coffee producers' children.  

     Children in plain uniforms line a walkway like paparazzi. They wave Costa Rican flags, hold signs and cheer us on in a most well behaved manner. I pose with Nicol who grasps the Anderson's banner and shakes my hand shyly. We gather in an open gymnasium for entertainment. I feel like I'm part of a caravan of Royalty-- a truck has silently followed us and a church organ-sized espresso machine is whisked out followed by sweet and savory pastries from a local panaderia . Fresh espresso in hand, I watch a confident group of girls demonstrate native dances in traditional costume. Their full skirts whirl and two girls grab my hands and drag me, protesting feebly, into their spinning circle. 

     After the festivities we pile onto the bus and wind slowly through narrow residential streets that seem to go straight up into the mountains. We reach Madre Verde (Green Mother Foundation), a reforestation project designed to restore the rainforests cleared decades ago for cattle ranching. We hike a steep trail through forests of trees smothered in bright bromeliads. I tiptoe through a loveseat-sized ant pile. On a sunny slope holes are dug. There we select tropical Mano trees to plant. After our young sapling is settled and covered with fistfuls of fertile compost we stake them with hand-painted signs. I feel like an explorer as I hammer down the stake, claiming this square foot of land in the name of Anderson's Coffee. I suddenly know I will be back and this tree will be big. 

     It is late in the afternoon and I am desperately in need of a pick-me-up. Thank goodness the espresso truck dutifully followed us to the Guardia Orchid Garden. I collapse in front of a Marimba and a trio begins to jam island-style. Two sips of Monte Cristol espresso and I am cognizant enough to notice the rows and rows of hot fuchsia orchids, purple guaria, growing on fence posts, broken trees, scraps of plywood.  Spindly yellow orchids spring from hanging baskets and heart-shaped anthuriums cover the ground.  A tiny old gentleman, Senor Javier Solórzano, presides over this tropical paradise he built with his own hands over 50 years ago.  I want to tell him in Espanol this is the most beautiful garden I have ever seen. I shake his hand warmly and flash my biggest Texas smile, "Phe-no-me-nal," I stutter hoping this is one of the words that sounds only vaguely different in English. By the look on his face I can see I am wrong but I am still smiling so I guess it doesn't matter. Later with the assistance of a couple cold Imperials (the National Beer of Costa Rica) my Spanish miraculously improves and I finally feel I am in Costa Rica.

     That night we stay at the eco-conscious Villa Blanca Cloud Forest Hotel and Spa. The 75 acre "green" hotel is nestled in the saddle of volcanic mountains and surrounding Los Angeles Biological Reserve. Villa Blanca is called a Cloud Forest Hotel because we are truly living in the clouds. A persistent mist hovers low, hugging the lush vegetation.

Day Three

     Stumbling out of my cabana Wednesday morning I am swimming in the Cloud Forest haze. I subsist on hotel coffee until we arrive at the coffee producer's farms and the espresso machine is fired up while we wander between the plots.

     The "almacigos" or nurseries have perfect rows of glossy deep green leaves. I crouch between them and rub the leaves for scent. There is nothing about these baby plants that screams coffee; I think of holly bushes and ornamental shrubs. These plants will live in the nursery for about 2 years until they are systematically rotated into the established fields where they will produce their first cherries a year or so later. The older fields need pruning and I take a small saw in hand and fell half a coffee plant in a few swift strokes. All but one coffee cherry (that I can see) has been picked and processed; only green buds decorate the plants. I kneel in the dirt alongside a fresh hole and sprinkle it with magnesium. Into it goes my own young coffee plant and I lovingly pat moist earth down around it. I stake it for Anderson's. Now I rule two square feet of foreign territory. 

     My little kingdom pales in comparison to the airy house belonging to the president of Coopepalmares, Xinnia. She is hosting a luncheon for the coffee growers, roasters and members of Sucafe at her home, La Canaria. Waiters offer trays of hors d 'oeuvres and Imperials. I recline in a wooden lounger and gaze over the city of San Ramon and its roofs of tin and stucco, giant palms, green hillsides and looming volcanoes. The town seems to be perpetually napping in the tropical sun and in no hurry to wake up and start dinner. 

     On the bus again we arrive at the deserted Coopepalmares Mill. The coffee picking and processing takes place from October through December. So during my March visit the motionless machinery looks more like an abandoned amusement park than a coffee processing plant. We are given an explanatory tour. The only thing lacking is the fresh picked coffee beans. We start at the beginning of the process. The fresh picked cherries land at the receiving dock and are measured into three-foot square containers and counted on a primary-colored abacus. Coffee is shuttled throughout the mill using compressed air and conveyor belts--water is only used a few moments and even then it is continuously recycled for use again. We follow the path through the de-pulping and washing and then outside to the raised African beds where the coffee dries naturally in the sun. Beans are sorted on slanted scales by weight and size and move through Lucite tubes at lightning speed where they are categorized further by a machine that reminds me of the egg sorter in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory . Bad beans fall pitifully into bags marked rejectadores. Good beans fill burlap bags sewn shut by a giant sewing machine and stacked one atop the other into massive sandbag walls of coffee that could stave off a Category 2 hurricane. The specially processed Micro-Lots are grouped, labeled and covered. Soon we will cup them. 

     The special Micro Lots we will taste are the result of a project that required detailed planning by each individual grower within the co-op. Coopepalmares consists of twelve hundred small contributing producers in seven sub-districts. Field managers carefully monitor the ripening of the coffee cherries. On the peak day of ripeness, a one day harvest is selected and a couple of twenty-five bag micro-lots from each sub district are set aside. Most of the Costa Rican coffees we drink are fully washed and the mucilage is stripped off or dissolved. Sucafe decided to process these particular Costa Rican micro-lots in the pulped natural style, leaving 50-100% of the "honey" or mucilage on the pergamino. then the beans are sun dried on the newly constructed raised African-Style beds. Compared to the typical one hundred percent washed Costa Rican coffees, these pulped natural Micro-Lots posses a more concentrated and intense flavor.

     Folding banquet tables are set with thirty ramekins of fresh roasted sample coffees, circular spoons and spittoons. I inhale deeply and scribble adjectives- -woodsy; earthy; fruity-- and gut feelings-- like Christmastime; warming; awakening-- on a chart. I assign each characteristic a numerical value. aroma, fragrance, body, acidity, balance I rate aroma, fragrance, body, acidity and balance and grant each lot a score from 1-100.  After the first round we buzz into the kitchen and sample pineapples, bananas and fresh local melons. After the second round we drag ourselves sleepily into the conference room for lunch. After the third round we stagger like zombies into the evening auction. Everyone has got their eye on a special lot and the bidding among the roasters begins. We passionately defend our favorites but agree that these coffees embody the taste of Costa Rica. I bid and buy five bags for Anderson's Coffee. Two different Micro-Lots really made an impression on my taste buds and I can't wait to roast them to full-city perfection.

Costa Rica Coffee Plantation Coopepalmares

Conclusion

     Visitors travel Costa Rica to surf, tour rainforests, lie on the beach and experience the laid-back Tico culture. Hopefully they return home with a favorable impression underneath their sunburns. Our goal as roasters and retailers is to rekindle their pleasurable memories and the warm friendliness of the casual Ticos with each sip of a fresh-brewed cup of exemplary Costa Rican coffee.

Home | Coffee | Tea | Customer Service | About Us | Location
Anderson's phone: 512-453-1533 or e-mail us at orders@andersonscoffee.com
© 2005 Anderson's Coffee Company