Breaking Boundaries: Coffee from Vietnam
One of the perks of living and working as a coffee professional in a coffee-producing country (in my case, Vietnam) is the proximity to action. And action is exactly what this country has. Anaerobic fermentation, aerobic fermentation, carbonic maceration, lactic fermentation, co-fermentation, fruit infusion, wild yeast capturing, wild yeast propagating, enzyme dosing; you name the processing method, Vietnamese farmers have tried it.
Open-mindedness and a spirit of adventure, with a healthy appetite for risk, fuel many of the farmers that our roastery, 96B, work with. So with that said, I invite you to join me as I explore some of the coffee processing ventures we’ve been fortunate enough to get tangled up in over the years.
Resurrecting Liberica
As one of the world’s rarest coffees, C. liberica is cultivated in some Asian countries and some regions of Western and Central Africa.
Indigenous to Liberia and Zaire, the species was brought to Indonesia and the Philippines in the 1890s to replace the Arabica plants after they suffered a mass die-off due to coffee rust disease. Liberica, however, did not prove to be as resistant to diseases and pests as expected. Furthermore, the size of the trees (5-15m) makes cultivation and harvesting extremely difficult. And, in Vietnam, sometimes it takes five years for a Liberica to produce its first harvest. The cherries' large pulp makes processing complicated and costly, while the high sugar content (up to 30%) makes the cherries a favourite snack for ants and pests. Soon, Robusta and Arabica replaced Liberica as more sensible options.
By sheer intrigue and curiosity, Hana Choi, 96B’s founder, approached a few villagers in Lam Ha, Lam Dong, based on a rumour that the village had a handful of Liberica trees cultivated as shade trees for Robusta. Indeed, perched at 1200 masl, this village turned out to have quite a few fully grown Liberica trees.
Upon meeting Mr. Lam and his wife, the engineer-turned-coffee-farmer showed Hana the handful of trees resiliently growing under the blistering sun. The condition was ideal for Liberica trees, as research has shown that too much rainfall compromises the productivity of the trees, while one to two months of under 50mm rain encourages uniform flowering. The tall trees had been growing for almost 10 years, appreciated mainly for their shade, with the cherries occasionally blended as filler in Robusta-heavy crops. Not surprisingly, barely anyone he knew had tried the pure Liberica, as the beans' delicate taste is shadowed by the smoky, bold-bodied Robusta.
Not knowing what to expect, Hana asked Mr. Lam for a sample of the coffee. A man of his word, a few months later 10 kg arrived at the 96B doorstep. Naturally processed Liberica proved to be clean, juicy, and sweet, with a mild acidity. Since 2016, 96B has worked with five households in Lam Ha, collecting more than one ton of Liberica coffee per year. Not a huge amount, but a vast improvement from the timid 10kg we received a few years ago.
About five tons of ripe cherries are carefully picked, fermented underwater, and dried under the sun for 12-15 days, before being hulled, producing one ton of green beans. As the mucilage and sugar content are exceptionally high, frequent raking is necessary to prevent mold development and pests. Due to its susceptibility to ants, up to 50% of the total green beans are not up to standard, and hand-sorting is necessary to sift for quality beans.
Left: The exceptional height makes Liberica a great choice as a shade tree, not so much as a financially-sensible cultivar; Right: Liberica leaves (Hana Choi, 96B cafe & roastery)
That’s a lot of work, but the farmers in Lam Ha were curious to taste their own neglected coffees. By paying a fair price for our lot, we ensure that whatever hard work put into these strange, unknown beans, is rewarded.
Improving Robusta
Mr. Lam’s story is not unique. After 7 years scouting the most remote farms, we’ve met similarly enthusiastic, open-minded, and hard-working farmers.
Hana and I have never been a fan of robusta. Growing up in Vietnam, we thought we knew what Vietnamese Robusta would be like: woody, smoky, rubber-like, not special. Bitten by the specialty bug, we had set out to improve Vietnamese Arabica and Liberica without giving Robusta a fair shot.
This all changed in 2021. The nascent Vietnam’s Amazing Cup, a coffee competition, put forward a dazzling line-up of beautiful Robusta beans. The second prize winner, natural Robusta (TTR variety) from Mori farm, blew our minds. The coffee was intensely aromatic, with prominent notes of roasted coconuts and butter popcorn. It was also the very first time we detected such bright acidity in Robusta, reminiscent of passionfruit.
Who was this farmer? Where is Mori farm? We had to find out.
After buying half of this lot, waxing poetically about this coffee, and selling a surprising amount to our Arabica drinkers, we found ourselves visiting Mori farm, in the Central Highlands province of Gia Lai. Greeting us was a youthful, beautiful, and fashionable Ms. Ngoc.
“I did not start as a farmer,” she said, “I saw the lands and loved them, so I bought a few hectares, then a few more, and started to process Robusta.”
Her breezy account glides past her struggles as a first-time farmer-cum-owner of a growing estate. “Selling cheap robusta was easy; a lot of traders were willing to pay for low-quality unripe beans,” Ms. Ngoc recalled. But she wanted more. The easy path was not for her.
Back in the mid-2010s, when “coffee processing” was limited to natural and washed, and when robusta equated to cheap and low quality, she set out to take processing courses with international processing experts. At the farm, Ms. Ngoc paid a premium to collect only red cherries and built raised beds, along with a green house. Back then, such an investment for robusta was considered stupendous at best, and ridiculous at worst. Changing pickers’ and other farmers’ mindset, however, proved to be even harder. “They still get paid with much less work, so why bother?,”she said, “besides, selling lands for a big sum is a much more secure way to make money.”
In addition to finding similar-minded farmers, she had to improvise. What she learnt was not always applicable in real life. Visiting her farms, we saw her robusta divided into several lots, each receiving different processing treatments. We saw natural and honey lots; we saw coffees drying in the green-house and on raised-beds. In the back, Ms. Ngoc was mixing her own ‘kefir’ to jumpstart her experimental lot; in the front yards, commercial-grade robusta of different ripeness dried under the beating sun.
Every square inch was covered with coffee. Fine robusta shared space with commercial robusta. There was no tunnel vision here. She knew what she had to do to survive: innovate, but with one lot at a time; experiment while controlling risk; push for better quality robusta, yet still process and sell other grades to keep her business viable.
Innovation goes hand-in-hand with sustainability; the new is not the nemesis of the old; specialty coffee does not have to exclude a traditionally commercially viable product.
After almost a decade in the business, her slow and steady approach has produced increasingly higher quality robusta. By receiving feedback from buyers and roasters, including 96B’s, she revisits and updates old methods, producing more stable and longer shelf-life coffees. The intensity and extravaganza of earlier lots have been tamed down, resulting in consistent, clean, sweet robusta.
After 3 harvests and an even closer relationship with Mori farm, we are still excited and proud to share Vietnamese fine robusta. Working with Mori farm has been an education. Ms. Ngoc’s intrepid spirit, her focus on quality, and her audacity to improve a traditionally “inferior” product is a lesson in open-mindedness, commitment, and clear direction.
Closed plastic bags left by a wooden shed.
Blue tarps covering polyethylene drums.
Tangerine peels haphazardly tossed into a pile of red cherries.
Funky coffee.
Low-cost experiments.
Farmers groping in the dark looking for ways to jump on to the new processing trends.
These images and the above assumptions usually go hand in hand. For all the talk about sustainability and highlighting the farmer’s work, specialty coffee still has a gatekeeping problem. Is carbonic maceration truly carbonic maceration without a stainless tank? If the yeasts and microbes introduced to a coffee lot do not come from a freeze-dried package, are they “inoculated” or simply “additives?”
The line between science and funk is razor thin. For a coffee deemed great, it could be a result of a “controlled experiment” or a “happy accident”.
For specialty buyers in North America and Europe, the notion of innovative processing in Central and South America has become the norm. Mountain-perched estates with shiny equipment, large washing channels, and airy raised beds have become the new standards for specialty coffee.
While this is all well and good, coffees from Asia are still very much seen as exotic and funky by some. For the past few years, pioneering farmers and intrepid roasters have championed delicious coffees from Indonesia and India, traditionally known for their earthy, low-tone, and low priced lots. Clean and sweet coffees from Thailand and Myanmar, once a rarity on a cupping table, have become a mainstay in some markets.
Our specialty coffee world is made flatter and smaller by hyperconnectivity. A new processing method could become trendy almost overnight. Across the bean belt, there has never been a moment where farmers could learn from each other like today.
Despite these encouraging steps to bridge the markets closer, old prejudice and ignorance still prevail. Say the word Vietnam, and it’s likely that the image of smoky, bitter, oily robusta would come to your mind. Vietnam, the second biggest coffee exporter in the world, is still struggling to find its place in the specialty world.
Yet, everywhere in this country, farmers, roasters, and consumers are pushing the envelope. Every month, we receive samples from farmers we have never heard of. More often than not, their coffees range from intriguing to delicious. Everyday, we have new customers, Vietnamese and foreign, visiting our space, asking to try a “new” coffee. Every time, we witness their delight and surprise in discovering a previously unknown coffee, breaking their own assumptions of Vietnamese coffee as a low-quality product.
From destructive wars and farming collectivism, the Vietnamese coffee industry burst forward in the early 2000s to become the second biggest coffee exporter in the world. Its breakneck growth came with detrimental consequences on the environment, on the farmers, and ultimately, on the coffee quality.
And yet, there has never been a better time to work in coffee in Vietnam. The dazzling growth and constant change are spearheaded by a younger generation of farmers with access to better learning materials. Buyers and roasters like us have a much bigger pond to choose from and to work with; while consumers are more open-minded and demanding.
In Vietnam, Ca phe sua da is still ubiquitous, traditional natural-processed robusta are still the norm, but the seed of specialty has sprung.
