Knowledge Is Way Too Complicated

Lord, how I miss ignorance. It comes in so handy.

Not when it comes to science, history or politics; ignorance is bad in those cases. It is also bad in a few other selected fields, such as structural engineering and epidemiology. But when it comes to food and drink, ignorance is something to be coveted.

I was pondering this issue recently when I was over at my aunt and uncle’s house. They were lamenting the fact that they are now forced - FORCED to buy expensive varietal wines at $10 or $12 a bottle. They used to be content with a big old jug of Carlo Rossi Red-Colored Wine-Like Product at $4.99 per barrel. They were under the impression that wine was supposed to taste like that.

It isn’t, but the important thing is my relatives were content in their innocence, kind of like Adam and Eve, except my relatives are named Aunt Jean and Uncle Lefty.

But then one day somebody came over to their house and brought a bottle of cabernet sauvignon. It tasted different. Not necessarily better, but different. Then somebody brought over some merlot, and some chardonnay, and something French from 1986. Before long, Aunt Jean and Uncle Lefty were thinking, “You know, I’ll bet that’s what wine is supposed to taste like.” In other words, Aunt Jean and Uncle Lefty were ruined forever.

Carlo could never satisfy them any more.

I bring this up now because I am in the midst of losing my coffee ignorance, and I am heartbroken over the whole thing.

For years, I have been happily ignorant about coffee. I didn’t know much about it, but what I did know I clung to with the faith of the truly ignorant: Buy whole beans and grind them at home, store beans in the freezer for freshness, use a good drip coffee maker, and, for the ultimate cup, use 100 percent Colombian coffee.

Then I started reading this annoyingly informative book called “The Joy of Coffee” by Corby Kummer. This guy knows way too much about coffee, which would be fine except he feels compelled to tell me about it, too. Naturally, he is destroying every coffee principle I have ever held.

First of all, I am grinding my beans with exactly the wrong kind of grinder. My “propeller grinder,” the most common kind, uses brute force on the innocent coffee beans, which makes the correct-size grind impossible to attain, like I’d know it if I saw it. Instead, I should use the more expensive “burr mill.”

Next, I shouldn’t be storing my coffee beans in the freezer. Coffee “never quite tastes the same after it is frozen.” Unfortunately, storing them in the refrigerator is worse, so the best way to store them is not to store them at all. I should buy freshly roasted beans as often as possible, arranging my life around bean purchases.

Next, I shouldn’t be using my electric-drip coffee maker. It is a travesty for many reasons, the chief one being the burner beneath the glass pot. It overheats the coffee and throws off its flavor. In fact, Kummer says “burners are today’s national disgrace,” which I take to mean that it narrowly surpasses infant mortality.

Instead, I should use the manual filter method - a carafe and a filter, preferably a gold filter. Let me get this straight. I can’t afford gold for my wife, but I’m supposed to buy it for my coffee.

I have known for many years that a true coffee connoisseur such as myself should not swagger into the supermarket and buy any old can of MJB or Folgers right off the shelf. I knew that I was better off buying whole beans from a specialty roaster. But whether buying whole beans or the occasional supermarket can (I’m sorry, sometimes I’m in a hurry), I always knew to look for 100 percent Colombian.

Wrong again. “At best, Colombias are clean and neutral …” (that’s an insult), and he goes on to say that Colombia has “faded from the map of devoted coffee lovers.”

So Juan Valdez has been conning me all of these years? Not to mention his jackass? I feel so betrayed.

Today, as I sipped morosely at my 100 percent Colombian, ground in my propeller grinder, brewed in my electric-drip machine, I couldn’t help but feel it was underextracted, vaporized and oxidized.

And yesterday, it tasted so good.

, DataTimes MEMO: To leave a message on Jim Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Jim Kershner The Spokesman-Review