12 steps to make Kilimanjaro Coffee
On the side of Mount Kilimanjaro I sit in a hut being watched gleefully by two small boys who take great delight as I show them wiggly finger tricks and clapping games.
They live here among scraggly coffee trees and soaring banana leaves on the Chagga Culture and Coffee plantation near the town of Moshi in Tanzania. On a table in front of us sit a series of cups ready to be filled, but not until we have all gone through a lengthy song and dance (literally) to prepare it.
Their older brother Casty Materu who, with a laugh, tells me call him Mr Coffee, comes and sits with us. In bright red pants and beaded sandals — he starts to explain the entire history of the area’s coffee and the process to make the perfect cup.
“This is our home,” he tells me. “Make it your home and I will explain how we make coffee here”.
Coffee is relatively new to Tanzania he explains, brought from Ethiopia by English colonialists in the 1800s as he shows me the late-season, red berries on the craggy trees. Chagga people who live in the area have farmed these hills in the shadow of the mountain for time immemorial, and the process to extract the coffee is steeped in their traditions.
“Did you know there are many different layers to the coffee beans?” he asks. I did not, but had a feeling I was about to find out.
“There are many steps to make coffee, not like the way you do it at home.”
1. The red berry
First the coffee is picked from the small, viney trees under the canopy of banana palms. It was discovered early the two plants work in a good symbiosis as the thirsty banana trees bring a lot of water to the surface for the coffee plants while also keeping the smaller plants, well-shaded from the often-harsh east-African sun.
2. Removing the skins
Put through a small hand-spun grinder, the fresh berries become pale and slimy as they slide into a bath of fresh water.
“Here we can tell the good coffee from the bad coffee — the bad ones float.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Ah,” Mr Coffee muses, “because they have no bean inside,” he smiles.
The beans then sit in the water for three days as the bitter slime dissolves.
3. Drying
It takes six to eight weeks for the berries to dry on large racks in their husked form depending on the weather, which on the mountain can be pretty variable. Since I didn’t have that much time to spend there, Mr Coffee had some already dried beans on hand to show how the rest of the process works — which is where the real fun begins.
4. Removing the husks
While coffee itself is relatively new, the age-old mortar a pistil method of removing the husks is not. The beans are pounded by hand to smash the husks away and reveal the white seeds underneath.
“It’s hard work, so while we do this we sing,” Mr Coffee says.
“Twanga, “ he sings. “Pepeta….kaanga….saga.”
While he pounds, everyone starts clapping to the rhythm of the work and singing along. It feels more like a party as everyone takes turns crushing away the husks and in no time at all the beans are ready for sifting.
5. Sifting
In banana-woven baskets the mortar’s contents are flipped, spun and shaken to separate the husks and remove a powdery substance which accumulates in the crushing process.
6. Roasting
A small fire which has been smouldering away is bought back to life with a few waves of the sifter and the beans are placed in a pot to be roasted. Time disappears into another series of traditional songs and chants going back and forth between the older and younger family members as the pot is stirred and the aroma of roasted beans fills the air.
7. More sifting
The beans have now assumed their classic dark-brown split-pea look which we are all familiar with and any small pieces of charcoal and any impurities are removed by yet more flipping and dancing as each step seems to have its own song to make the work go by faster.
8. Grinding
No electric grinders out here on the hills — it’s back to the mortar and pistil. When the beans are ground we all take a good whiff and are hit by the waft of fresh coffee which lingers with the smoke of the fire giving everything an earthy tone.
9. Separation
This time the powder is sifted through a metal grate and as it is carefully shaken into the bowl two distinct colours emerge. While roasting and grinding the coffee splits into two textures which can be filtered out carefully — one lighter and more chocolatey and the other more bitter, dark and strong.
“What country are you from?” Mr Coffee asks.
“New Zealand.”
10. Coffee chocolate
As the fire is stoked and water placed on the boil we sit back under the shade and I’m instructed to hold out my hand. Some of the raw powder is mixed in with heaps of sugar and spooned into each of our palms.
“You must wait until I say, then eat,” we are instructed.
On the countdown, I stuff the mixture into my mouth and am surprised when instead of feeling overwhelmed by powder the coffee and sugar just melt on my tongue into something chewable and absolutely delicious. I quip I should have my coffee like this all the time.
“Don’t do this at home, you can only do this here when we make the coffee this way.”
11. Brewing
The water is ready and bubbling away and the coffee is dumped straight into the pot at full steam and we sing and clap to the stirs. A metal clamp us placed around the handless pot and the brew is poured into a big pink jug ready to share.
12. Enjoy
Just like Mr Coffee said it takes a lot of steps to make a Chagga coffee and as we sit and chat with our steaming cups under the banana leaf awning, I notice all the graffiti left under the awning. Tour groups, friends and couples have all left their little marks in marker around the seats. From all over the world people have stopped in at this little plantation in the shadow of a mountain, to follow the steps and make the brew.
Find out more; https://www.facebook.com/chaggacoffee/
