Ethiopia is the birthplace of coffee, and the local coffee ceremony is far richer than a mere drink. Based on a three-week field experience, this article provides a complete breakdown of the coffee ceremony: laying out fresh green grass, washing green beans, roasting over charcoal, crushing in an iron mortar, boiling in a clay pot, and then the three rounds of coffee—"Abol," "Tona," and "Baraka"—along with their drinking order and accompanying snacks. It also describes the unique atmosphere created by myrrh incense and why locals insist on hand-crushing rather than using a machine grinder. Whether you are a coffee enthusiast or a cultural explorer, you can feel the reverence and leisure of this ancient ritual, and learn about Front Street Coffee's recommendations for Ethiopian coffee.
The Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony (African Notes, Part One)
On the eve of Christmas in 2004, at a friend's invitation, I went to Ethiopia—known as the "Roof of Africa"—for three weeks of technical consulting. At that time, in the eyes of Chinese people, Africa was still considered a dangerous place. Before departure, I wanted to buy travel insurance. The PICC Wuxi branch escalated the request all the way to Nanjing, but the final answer was still that they could not help. But I had already promised my friend, so I could only brace myself and board the Ethiopian Airlines flight, with a stopover in Delhi, India.
During the three weeks I lived in Addis Ababa, this highland city, apart from the distinctive African highland scenery and the familiar-looking municipal roads built by many Chinese, what impressed me most was the local coffee ceremony.
Previously, I only knew that coffee originated in Africa and was later introduced to South America for cultivation and development. In fact, Ethiopia's "Kaffa" region is the true homeland of coffee. It is said that most coffee species in the world originate from this place, and even the raw materials of some famous brands of instant coffee include coffee beans from this land.
There, you don't have to go to high-consumption places like cafes or hotels to drink coffee; just like Chinese people drinking tea, it can be enjoyed at any time. At home, needless to say, even company and factory offices have dedicated coffee times and specific rituals, locally called "coffee ceremony." Like tea ceremony in Asia, I think what locals truly enjoy may not be the drinking of coffee itself, but the process of brewing and tasting with religious conventions. The ancient and simple ritual not only lets people experience the pleasure of authentic coffee, but also allows participants to feel the locals' long-standing reverence for coffee.
The Ethiopian coffee ceremony begins with the hostess laying out a patch of ground about two to three square meters with local fresh grass. After the ground is laid, a small stove for roasting coffee beans and a small table for coffee utensils are prepared.
Next, wash the coffee beans. First take a bowl of pale green raw beans, put them into a small basket and wash them clean, just like washing rice; after washing, take them out and spread them evenly on a slightly concave iron plate, then place the iron plate on a small stove burning firewood or charcoal for roasting.
During roasting, the hostess constantly stirs and turns them with a curved iron rod. As the temperature rises, the beans change from pale green to golden yellow, and after the moisture evaporates they begin to crack, giving off a faint aroma, just like what we often smell in coffee shops, only much fainter. As roasting continues, the coffee beans turn dark brown, and the aroma becomes stronger accordingly.
After roasting comes crushing. The hostess moves the iron plate off the stove, lets it cool slightly, pours the roasted beans into a container about 30 centimeters high, similar to the iron mortar used in Chinese medicine, and crushes them into powder with an iron pestle. This action looks easy but is difficult to do: one hand must hold the iron mortar, while the other hand must lift high; only when lifted high does the downward thrust have force. The iron pestle must accurately strike into the small opening of the iron mortar. People without experience would probably only smash their own hands.
I was also curious and asked why not use an iron grinder or coffee machine to grind. The host said that when a machine grinds, the coffee beans and metal rub at high speed, which introduces iron impurities and affects the pure flavor of the coffee.
After the coffee powder is ready, the hostess carries the clay plate holding the powder and presents it to the guests one by one, letting everyone smell the aroma. Then the crushed coffee powder is put into a clay coffee pot with a long neck, water is added, and it is placed on a charcoal stove to boil. The long neck opening of the pot has a specially made wooden stopper, somewhat like the wooden spinning top children play with, only more crudely made. The wooden stopper has two functions: first, to keep warm; at a local altitude of more than 2,500 meters, the boiling point of coffee liquid is lower, and an open pot mouth is unfavorable for heat preservation; second, when boiling, steam can escape through the gaps in the stopper. All utensils made of natural materials naturally make the brewed coffee more fragrant and rich.
While the coffee is boiling, there is also a porcelain incense burner nearby, containing a kind of white powder. Only after asking did I learn that it was what Chinese medicine shops call myrrh. After the porcelain incense burner is heated, curling fragrance drifts out, intertwining indoors with the rich aroma in the pot, creating a unique atmosphere. Locals proudly say that only coffee drunk in this atmosphere counts as authentic Ethiopian coffee.
This kind of coffee is called "buna" in the official language Amharic. Before tasting, there is also a snack: the hostess brings a plate holding bread or cake and a small knife for dividing the snack to the guests, and the guests cut it themselves, a bit like dividing a birthday cake. This is probably what is now called a coffee companion.
After the guests take the snack, the main part of the ceremony begins. The hostess pours the rich coffee liquid from the pot into small ceramic or porcelain cups on the small table—similar in size to gongfu tea cups—and serves them to the guests one by one on a tray. On the tray there is also a small clay jar containing granulated sugar, which guests can take according to preference. Locals like to add a lot of sugar, perhaps because their coffee is especially rich and slightly bitter.
The first round of coffee is called "Abol" in Amharic, and its taste is very strong. Although it is only a small cup, after drinking it one feels mentally stimulated, completely different from the instant coffee drunk in China. Instant coffee is lighter, like a cup of clear tea; "Abol" is heavy, like a cup of mellow liquor. This is a beverage that allows the coffee aroma to linger and swirl in the mouth for a long time.
After finishing the first round, the hostess adds water to the pot and continues boiling. Soon the second round, "Tona," is ready to enjoy. "Tona" is slightly lighter, but more mellow. I rather liked it, because it is not too bitter, requires no large amount of sugar, and is rich in the original coffee flavor, so it can be savored carefully.
The third round is called "Baraka," and by comparison it is much lighter, already the tail end.
Gathering around the stove to taste authentic Ethiopian coffee, the primitive and simple coexist with leisure and elegance, and with the hostess's devout performance and warm hospitality, to borrow a popular advertising slogan, this is truly "delicious." The once-a-week coffee ceremony made me very interested. Before returning to China, the hostess insisted on giving me a complete set of coffee-brewing utensils, and of course authentic Ethiopian Arabica coffee beans. I truly liked the plain clay coffee pot and porcelain incense burner; when choosing coffee cups, I preferred the black local clay cups, but she insisted on giving me fine porcelain cups, saying these were better: smooth, durable, and more valuable for artistic appreciation.
After a long flight of ten thousand kilometers, I returned to my hometown and could not wait to open the package. The porcelain was indeed white and delicate. But when I turned it over and looked at the mark on the bottom, oh, it had a few English words: fine china, Made in China. "Fine porcelain, made in China."
The above content is compiled by CoffeeHunters, a coffee news website.
