Looking Glass Series, part 3

Terengganu, Malaysia

Early morning

 I rubbed the bleary look out of my eyes and walked into the living area. My flight back to the States was in a couple of hours. Chris entered the room, cup of coffee in his hand.

“Here you go.”

I took a sip. Neurons fired, senses awoke, and life slowly entered my body.

“This,” I muttered, “Is probably the best cup of coffee I have ever had.”

A few moments later, Chris produced a bag and I gleefully stuffed it into my backpack. I finished that cup of coffee in the car ride to Sultan Mahmud Airport. I jotted these words into my journal as the rain hit the car window.

Malaysia ends in monsoon rains

Another flight

Another cup

Another road traveled

Golden riches gained

For the soul

Poetry-inducing coffee: the best kind of coffee.

Two days later

“Any food with you today?”

Well, I thought, you don’t eat coffee.

“Nope.”

The US Customs agent handed back my passport. I walked over to the connecting flights TSA checkpoint and threw my bag on the counter.

The beat-up backpack gently rolled into the scanner. The red and black bag smelled of curry and too many nights away. It’s been with me for nearly 15 years. It’s carried me through a spectrum of circumstances, each crazier than the last. And half the time, it’s covered in mud, blood, ramen, or coffee. In fact, I was a little worried about the coffee buried in the bottom of my bag. As the rollers paused, I guessed in my mind what would happen next. Sure enough, the TSA agent pulled me aside. I made it easy for him and pulled out a one-pound bag of coffee. I had already been a little less than truthful with the Border Patrol and Customs agent. But I doubted the coffee would be an issue with TSA.

“Just a bag of coffee,” I said.

“Oh yeah? Is it any good?”

“The best in the world,” I said slowly, hoping not to sound snobbish or condescending.

“This is coffee from Sumatra,” I glowed, “It’s 50% Kopi Luwak, 25% red wine cured, and 25% natural bean. It’s open. You can smell it if you’d like.”

The agent popped open the seal and took a sniff. He seemed pleased. But then he said the sentence that I hoped he wouldn’t say; a sentence I hear a couple times a year.

“Luwak? Isn’t that the cat-poop coffee?

I hung my head and sighed.

“Yeah”

Whenever I hear this sentence, the entire conversation become unredeemable. I could explain that the Asian Palm Civet is not a cat, but a cute little mammal called a viverrid. I could also explain that it eats the coffee cherry, in which resides the green coffee bean. The cherry passes through the civet because it cannot break it down. I could then conclude in saying that farmers retrieve the cherry, clean it, and harvest the bean, and use it to make the world’s most expensive and delicious coffee.

But it’s no use. He’s still hung up on poop.

And it’s true. Kopi Luwak may forever be the butt of jokes (apologies for the pun). However, most coffee drinkers may never have the opportunity to try it. Kopi Luwak is far too expensive and unavailable in the States, though prevalent in southeast Asia.

“Cat-poop” coffee may be a barrier that many people never cross. But what about other strange food items. Nobody thinks twice about eating an egg, produced directly from the back end of a chicken. And don’t get me started on hot dogs.

A good cup of coffee can vitalize your day, bring a smile to your face, warm you up, and bring friends together. And if a good cup of coffee can do that, what happens when you try the world’s best coffee?

You’ll just have to break down the “cat-poop” barrier to find out.

anthony forrest

Other Looking Glass Stories:

Part 1, Of Blood and Barriers 

Part 2, Of Strong Hands and Reservations