#3 The Bloom.

A defining moment for me when I was young was the day my Dad gave me my first super-basic manual camera.  Now I wasn't exceptional at photography, my compositional skills and visual imagination weren't up to much, but I loved the process of creating a photograph.  At every step I was in control whether I wanted to be or not, it was all down to me.  You can't replace the joy of creating something when you've been so closely involved in its production on an physical, mechanical level.  Even if the results are not so good, there's a pride and a sense of ownership that all of the iPhone filters and on-board editing software in the world just can't give you.  And when it's good, when everything combines with a bit of luck and it all just works, well you can't beat that.

Of course, you don't have to take that level of control on, automate any process and the results will always be ok, they might even be better than when you do things yourself and get it wrong, but they'll never be great. 

This isn't about ok though, this is about great. It's about learning what makes great, about getting it wrong and being ok with it, then trying again. 

Today, it's about the pour over.

This is the method that first sparked my interest, the one that seems the most involved and the most temperamental.  The one that gives me the best chance of making something really great, something different. 

In truth, the basic kit is pretty easily accessible and doesn't have to be expensive.  The only strictly necessary part is the filter, the one that's most commonly associated with the pour over is the V60, so that's where I started. I ordered mine with my whole bean postal subscription, but they can be easily sourced elsewhere online.  I also went ahead and bought a load of other kit, a swan-necked pouring kettle, scales and a load of Hario glassware, but that's because I was over-excited.  You don't need that stuff, just the filter and either a decent grinder or access to good fresh ground coffee.

So this is how it goes:

Use 25g of beans, ground to medium cou....

Ok, a little confession at this point.  In the original piece I'd written most of a whole recipe and method for the pour over as I do it at the moment, but I couldn't finish it.  I wasn't adding anything new and I was trying to speak with an authority that I have no right to. So I gave up.  I still wanted to write about the pour over though, but what could I do? How could I put across my love for the pomp of it all, for the difference it makes? 

And there it was:  The story I wanted to tell in the first place, the difference. What's the point in a great long method with numerous variables and precise measurements if they don't change or improve anything in the end? I resolved to find out.

I made 3 brews, all using the same beans and the same grind: A decent but not outstanding Columbian bean, ground to medium-course.  In order to set a (low) benchmark, the first brew was made using an old electric filter machine.  For the second (the strict one) I followed James Hoffmann's recipe as closely as my temperature gauge and scales would allow.  For the third (the lazy one) I approximated everything that I had measured and timed previously. About a small handful of beans, around a mug full of water, three to four minutes-ish and so on. The strict brew took around twenty minutes from first boiling the kettle to settling down with a coffee at the perfect drinking temperature and demanded my attention for pretty much the whole time.  The lazy brew took under half of that and could easily be left for a bit on a busy morning.

This is how they stack up:

Both the strict and the lazy brews were really good compared to the benchmark.  That might seem obvious, but it's the first box ticked. Against the others, the benchmark was murky and bitter, with a flat flavour, crying out for sugar to bring some sort of balance to it.  

On the nose all three were very similar and looking at the two pour overs together they appeared to be very close, a deep red colour as opposed to the unappetising brown of the benchmark and both were beautifully clear.  It was only on the tasting that the larger differences between the strict and the lazy brews became more apparent. The lazy had a lovely rounded flavour and a crisp, clean mouthfeel.  It's a simple flavour that certainly doesn't cry out for sugar; it's obviously black coffee, but it's great black coffee. 

At first, I didn't find the strict brew as pleasant on the palate.  This  was probably the fault of my brewing skills, but there was a tiny hint of bitterness in the beginning. However, it quickly opened up and allowed notes to come through that just weren't there in the lazy brew. There was a rising sweetness followed by a cherry-like hit of fruit.  Overall, there seemed to be a feeling of space between flavours, with them taking more time to develop and shine, as opposed to delivering everything in one big hit. It really felt as if the extra care and time that I had put in translated into the final taste. 

Of course, without doing blind testing, it's impossible for me not to be biased because I knew which brew was which.  My test was only ever a blunt tool, but I think it worked.  Rather than proving one over the other, I have to conclude that both pour over brews were worth it.  The lazy brew was such a huge improvement over the benchmark for so little extra time and effort that you're winning if you go that far and leave it there.  The strict brew though, if you are willing to take things that bit further (and we're talking about double the time and easily five or six times the initial outlay in kit) will pay you back with a proportionally refined and complex flavour.