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Love and coffee: Two things I could not live without

Janet DeNeefe "For I have known them all already, known them all:-/Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,/I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;" T

(The Jakarta Post)
Sat, August 29, 2009

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Love and coffee: Two things I could not live without

J

strong>Janet DeNeefe

"For I have known them all already, known them all:-/Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,/I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;" T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

For years I have been addicted to Balinese coffee, to that first early morning shot of caffeine that filters through the system like an illicit drug. Coffee is a revered morning tradition here. Most waking folk start their day with a cup of it: strong, hot and sweetened with a little sugar or perhaps condensed milk, a plate of fried bananas or jaja kukus, sticky rice cakes, served alongside.

Coffee in Bali has always been synonymous with chatting and no subject is taboo when armed with this precious brew. It opens the debate on all subjects from lovers to loans, from religion to rice fields. It has even been said to have played a part in world revolutions: Che Guevara drank coffee.

For more than half a millennium, the fabled story of coffee as a beverage has been far more than just a drink. The dark liquid coaxed from the roasted beans of the Coffea Arabica tree still commands the attention of corporate executives, world leaders and an ever-increasing number of the global population.

Legend has it that coffee was first cultivated in Ethiopia 1000 AD and then made its way to Yemen where members of the Sufi sect began consuming it regularly.

Wherever it spread, it became the drink of commerce and was praised for its ability to boost stamina and mental sharpness. It became the elixir of enterprise, toppling wine from its glamorous perch as it was inclined to dull the wits of even the most entrepreneurial folk. I'll second that!

As with so many exotic ingredients in Bali, coffee is not native to the island. It was introduced to Indonesia by the Dutch, who transplanted - or smuggled - the trees from Yemen and cultivated them in the highlands of Java in the 1700s.

After all, colonialism was always about trade and monopolizing world commodities. Sound familiar? By 1732, Indonesia was producing around 2.3 million pounds of coffee annually. It eventually became the drink of the masses. At a later stage, coffee trees were planted in Singaraja and Kintamani.

Warung kopi were the original coffee houses for locals. In the early days, there was a certain quaint rustic charm about them, a touch of Balinese bohemia that became even more poetic at night under the light of a kerosene lamp. You could plan a revolution there, plot any kind of mayhem or discuss all things political. It was like a primitive Internet cafe or CNN with daily news updates, fired with a certain kind of liberalism that safely existed beyond the palace walls.

Run by the local ibu, mother, tasty snacks such as fried bananas, jukut mesantok, rujak or bubur were offered. And it helped if her daughter, who usually served alongside, was beautiful, a bunga desa, flower of the village. In fact, I guess that helps any situation! Picture the scene: A dozen farmers huddled together on wooden benches sucking on crackling clove cigarettes and engrossed in local gossip while furtively peeking at the glowing black-haired beauty. You can imagine the subject of their conversation. The warung kopi was the informal meeting place where you rubbed shoulders with other members of the village. It was the office of the common people.

And if beauty is skin deep, it stops where coffee enters. Children of mixed race in Bali are affectionately called kopi-susu, milk coffee, conjuring up an image of creamy olive skin. And if a nubile dark Balinese man is called "black", his defending argument might be, "ah yes, as black as coffee". He may be the color of polished ebony but like coffee or a dark and dazzling gemstone, he is precious, expensive. And, of course, exceedingly charismatic.

Nowadays, warung kopi have become a little more sparkling in appearance and are lit by the almighty fluorescent light, as opposed to old lamps or candles. Aluminum cases filled with food and cakes greet you, and fridges containing cold drinks for parched travelers are perched near the entrance. But in the villages warung kopi remain the same.

There is something so distinctive about the flavor and aroma of Bali's coffee, a certain earthiness, nuttiness and maybe even a mellow hint of chocolate that makes it so delicious and addictive. Some say it is redolent of sweet mango. Boil pandan leaves with water and pour over the ground coffee and you have something close to perfection - what a friend of mine calls coffee moksha! Or try it with ginger and you have wedang jahe, warming and intense. And being mainly Arabica, Balinese coffee is naturally low in acid and caffeine.

When Balinese travel they take their own coffee with them. Like language, it is somehow linked with identity, ethnicity and regional pride. And there is a subtle drama or mystique wrapped up in coffee's full-bodied persona, rather like an Italian opera. You can almost hear Pavarotti singing with each mouthful. It has an aura of substance and a magical quality that brings people together.

This year, the Ubud Writers & Readers Festival pays tribute to Indonesian coffee in a session called "Voices from the Coffee Lands". Writers from Indonesia, India, Kenya and Haiti will share their words while readers sip on the finest full-bodied coffee from Bali, Java and Sumatra. Perth-based coffee aficionados, Five Senses, who market Indonesian coffee, will be supporting the event with endless cups of this revered black elixir.

And to quote an old proverb, coffee and love taste best when hot. Now, there are two things I could not live without.

The writer is the founder of Casa Luna and Indus restaurants in Ubud, author of Fragrant Rice and creator of the Ubud Readers and Writers Festival.

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