sorting it out at the workbench

there is a real romance to roasting coffee. and there is a real need for precision and analysis. roasters have to be among the most evenly balanced left-right brains out there. for sure, there are myriad ways and means of capturing data with regard to roast time, moisture content, bean and/or internal drum temperature and so forth. the list can be eye-glazing, to be sure.

but there is also the artisinal, craftsmanlike ethos that almost borders on mystical. sometimes i feel a little bit like luke skywalker hearing obi wan's voice as i make my final run to destroy the death star. "use the force, luke. let go." and it's in those times during a roast that i put the pen down for a few moments and just enjoy the sensuality of the moment: the smell of the beans as they gain brownness and lose moisture; the waff of smoke heading out the exhaust piping; the carefree way in which the beans tumble over and over in a seemingly eternal cycle, traveling in their equivalent to ezekiel's wheel within a wheel from obscure jade greenish pebbles into the alchemist's gold. it's pure magic. and in those moments all the struggles and cares that attend an emerging business melt away and i am gently reminded by those beans what i'm meant to be doing in this world.