Back in 2011, on a journey from Madina to Mecca, I had a sensory experience that stuck with me. After the last prayer, someone was distributing “chai” and “khawa.” I asked for khawa. I am not a coffee fanatic per se, but that specific taste stayed with me the whole journey. I know enough to distinguish instant granules from freshly ground beans, but that cup was something else.
Now, as we enter the few fleeting months in Karachi where the weather allows us to enjoy coffee without worrying about the heat, I’ve started reading God in a Cup: The Obsessive Quest For the Perfect Coffee by Michaele Weissman. It was part of a Humble Bundle I bought ages ago—I don’t even remember what the bundle was for—but the book sat in my library waiting for this specific winter.
Weissman is harsh on the average cup, noting that “The ubiquity of Nescafé and other caffeinated insults lead to the birth of the specialty coffee industry.”
It made me pause and ponder the vast distance—both geographical and economic—between that “perfect cup” and my cup here in Karachi.
Zauq
I have not yet tasted “specialty coffee,” and honestly, I don’t have the burning urge to do so. I don’t keep Zauq (refined taste or preference) simply because I cannot afford to keep it.
Khair (anyway), we do what we can. A few years back, I used to buy beans, grind them myself, and use a cotton sieve to prepare black coffee. I even ordered a percolator from AliExpress once. It turned out to be too small, and the aluminum felt trashy, so now it sits on a shelf, serving only as a visual aid when I explain to people how a percolator works.
Coffee and Mizaaj
The book is very US-centric, which made me wonder how coffee fits into our part of the world, specifically regarding Mizaaj (temperament).
In Pakistan, coffee is considered “garam” (hot)—not temperature-hot, but legally “hot” in the Unani system of medicine. It’s fascinating to contrast the modern American obsession with flavor notes against the ancient system of the Four Humors:
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Blood (dam): Hot and wet
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Phlegm (balgham): Cold and wet
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Yellow bile (safra): Hot and dry
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Black bile (sauda): Cold and dry
I have been diagnosed as “cold and dry” by Hakeems, so I am usually recommended foods that increase dam—things like grapes, figs, dates, mutton, and saffron. Coffee, being potent, is something I have to navigate carefully. It also makes me wonder about the taste of roasted date seeds, a traditional alternative often found in the Arab world, and where they fit on this spectrum.
The Economics of Obsession
Weissman describes a world of people obsessed with making coffee, traveling to remote farms, and paying premiums. Here in Pakistan, we have coffee enthusiasts, but not in those numbers. The economics just don’t work.
If these specialty companies are truly going to the farmers and helping them, that is a noble effort. But the reality for us is that our vendors likely get whatever is left over from these operations, or beans from places the high-end buyers couldn’t reach.
It begs the question: Can we just grow our own?
I looked into this, and the answer is largely “No.” Coffee grows in the “Bean Belt” (equatorial regions) and hates frost. While Northern Pakistan (Gilgit-Baltistan) is excellent for “cold” crops like apricots and cherries, coffee trees would die in our freezing winters. There have been small experiments in the Margalla Hills and coastal Sindh, but nothing commercial.
For us, Zafran (saffron) is the better “gold” crop. It suits our climate and our economy better than trying to force coffee where it doesn’t belong.
The Labor Behind the Bean
Reading about the process gave me a newfound respect for the beverage, regardless of whether it’s specialty or instant. It is incredibly labor-intensive. From the red cherry to the final bean, the coffee undergoes depulping, fermenting (washing), drying, milling, and sorting. The statistic that blew my mind: The final milled product is approximately 20% of the original weight.
During roasting, it shrinks another 15%. When you drink a cup, you are consuming the essence of a massive amount of agricultural effort.
Then everyone in the supply chain “needs to earn a profit in order to stay in business. Often this leaves farmers in the unenviable position of growing a crop that provides others with a comfortable living while they struggle to survive.” This is true for all crops.
The Art of Tasting
I learned that while our tongues only perceive five flavors (Sweet, Sour, Salty, Bitter, Savory), our nose does the heavy lifting. The book mentions that sweet coffee relates to the ripeness of the cherry, while salty coffee is almost always a defect from drying on the ground.
When I read about the complexities of coffee farming in Africa—and the politics involved—it strangely gives me perspective. We look at our own political affairs with despair, but seeing the struggles elsewhere makes one realize that chaos is, unfortunately, a global commodity.
For now, I will enjoy my Karachi winter coffee. It might not be the “God in a Cup” that Weissman writes about, but given the effort it took to get here, it’s a blessing nonetheless.