Paris, France
Last week I found myself in a Parisian apartment, surrounded by what can only be described as a UN summit of misplaced professions. A French coffee buyer who scours plantations worldwide for the best beans, a Danish researcher who's never set foot on an actual tropical plantation, and a Colombian wine guy (that's me). If this sounds like the setup for a bad joke, trust me, it gets better.
It all started with Alexis Gagnaire, the mastermind behind Kawa Coffee in Paris. This isn't just some guy who can pull a decent espresso. Alexis is a judge and frequent participant in coffee contests around the world. His expertise in the coffee world is like a sommelier's in wine; deep, nuanced, and slightly obsessive.
Then there's our Danish friend, the mad scientist of the coffee world. He runs a state-of-the-art lab in Copenhagen called The Coffee Research Station. Imagine a climate-controlled greenhouse where science meets caffeine obsession. Altitude, weather, soil — he can recreate it all with a few taps on a screen. Coffee has been his obsession for the past six years, but don't think he's a one-trick pony. Apples, pears, and strawberries are his other passions. This guy doesn't just grow plants; he engineers flavor experiences.
So here we are, about to taste what's supposedly the world's most expensive coffee. Fifteen hundred USD a pound. Yeah, you heard that right. Enough to make even the most caffeine-addled Wall Street trader think twice. But why so expensive? Well, try reproducing tropical growing conditions in Denmark. The electric bill alone probably rivals the GDP of a small nation. Solar exposure? In Denmark? Let's just say they're not working with Colombia's natural advantages.
As we gather around this contraption that looks like Dr. Frankenstein decided to create life out of spare coffee machine parts, an iPad, and an Alexa, the anticipation builds. Screens, lights, scales, and metal parts everywhere. It's less an espresso machine and more a mad scientist's caffeinated fever dream.
The Frankenstein espresso machine
Alexis works the controls like a maestro conducting a symphony. The aroma hits me, and I understand this is no ordinary coffee experience. This is a journey to the very essence of what coffee can be.
We're sampling two versions of the Kurume variety, an Ethiopian Landrace hailing from the Yirgacheffe region. Both grown in identical conditions at the research station, with one key difference: soil fertility. One batch got the standard treatment, but the other is the pampered prince of coffee beans. Precision-fertilizers, tailored like a bespoke suit to meet optimal nutrient levels, as well as over two years of soil and leaf analysis went into this bad boy.
As we sip, I find myself lost in a sea of sensations. The acidity sings. The flavors dance. But I'm adrift in uncharted waters. No reference points, like the minerality wines get from chalky soils, or the fresh berry flavors from high-altitude growing. No familiar shores. Yet, my companions are my guides, pointing out landmarks of flavor, drawing maps of aroma.
This intricate discussion of taste and smell, where it comes from, how it’s expressed, shows me that this isn't just about coffee. It's about passion. It's about pushing boundaries. It's about asking "what if?" Just like what we're trying to do with our wine club.
We're not here to sell you grocery store plonk or overpriced status symbols. We're here to connect you with visionaries, flavor pioneers. People like the Dávalos family, crafting our TACANA at extreme altitudes without barrels. Or Agustín Lanús of Sunal, championing the underdog Criolla Chica grape across Argentina.
So the next time you uncork a bottle from our club, remember: you're not just drinking wine. You're participating in an act of preservation, of innovation, of rebellion against the tide of "good enough." The price tag doesn't matter. It's about quality. Experience. Discovery.
Invite a friend to join the club. Compare notes. Debate. Disagree. Because the only thing better than discovering a great wine is sharing it with someone who gets it. We're not just selling wine. We're offering a compass. A way to navigate the vast, thrilling world of flavor.
Here's to the crazy ones. The flavor chasers. The terroir whisperers. May their vines flourish. May their beans ripen. May we always seek them out. Because in their passion, we find more than great drinks. We find reminders of what it means to truly care.
And that, my friends, is always worth the price of admission.
Salud,
Diego
