the case for filtered coffee

Ever been to a coffee shop and ordered your usual flat white, only to have your coffee companion reel off the most detailed, rigorous set of specifications for their cup? Milk type, temperature, caffeine content, height, weight, horoscope - a seemingly endless list of variables which would have any scientist in a spin. (Maybe that's why my sister doesn't drink coffee).

During uni a good friend of mine (you know who you are) worked for an upmarket coffee chain and became very discerning about the quality of coffee which he consumed. Outside of the store he worked in, any supplier to his caffeine levels would come under intense scrutiny as to the construction, temperature and appearance of his soy lattes.

My brief stint on hospitality (which lasted exactly until the moment I realized management were falsifying wage records in order to underpay us) provided more insight into the coffee snobbery which we seem to have developed. Many of the customers requested macchiatos, decaf skim cappuccinos (hint - skim milk rarely actually exists in hospitality... think about that) an extra strong double shot of espresso with a jug of warm soy on the side... christ, when did coffee get so complicated?

Espresso coffee, is, by its nature, conducive to such an array of variations. A few teaspoons of bitter black liquid is sure to have many a caffeine addict running for the milk jug and sugar bowl. But does it need to be this way? Should hospitality staff be subject to the whims of an indecisive, discerning public with their infinite variations of froth consistency?

Absolutely not. And the answer, my friend, lies in filter coffee. But first, a little story.

I was in London on the tail end of a European trip when, wandering around the famous Borough Market near London Bridge (which turned out to be nothing compared to our Central Market) we happened upon a warehouse which, with the addition of a few chunky pieces of funiture, a counter and a spiral staircase leading up to the 'office', suspended near the ceiling, had become a coffee house.

The Monmouth Coffee Company, which has three sites around London, specializes in single estate coffees, which they roast themselves in London. In their Borough Market store, where we whiled away a rainy afternoon waiting for a family friend to turn up, we whiled away an afternoon drinking cup after cup of the splendid stuff.

No doubt it had something to do with the quality of the coffee, but more exciting - and unique - was that instead of using a machine, they had simply set up a row of single cup, cone shaped porcelain filters (the kind that fit over the top of a cup) to which they added the coffee and poured the hot water through, producing the most pure and fresh coffee you could imagine.

A small table to the side of the counter provided raw sugar and warm milk for those who required such additions. Little platforms around the edge of the warehouse looked over a huge communal wooden table, which was spread with a tempting platter of fresh baguettes, butter and jam, which you could help yourself to.

The coffee was incredible. Now, at home, I have ditched the so called convenience of the coffee machine and dug out an old plastic cone filter from the back of my pantry. It takes me less than two minutes to boil the kettle, grind a big spoon of coffee beans up and whack a paper filter in. The coffee is incredible, lacks the bitter flavour my machine produces, is hot, perfectly measured, and bloody amazing.

So why is it that Adelaide has been overrun by espresso machines at the expense of filter coffee? I could hazard a guess and say that it's just what has become trendy over the years, or that the system is more lucrative for the coffee companies (as espresso machines are supplied along with the coffee by many companies) but I don't really know why filter coffee is so rare in Adelaide. But there IS one company which, through the years, has provided filter coffee – and until recently, only filter coffee – to its customers.

Even more impressively, has just announced that it will use solely Rainforest Alliance certified coffee, which is environmentally sustainable and gives a fair price to farmers. This is a hugely significant step in Australia, where large coffee companies are more renowned for their links to fundamentalist Christian groups than protecting the environment and supporting fair trade. Hopefully, their investment will pay off big time, both in terms of revenue, which will reinforce the change, and in awareness on the part of consumers who will demand sustainable and fair trade products across the board.

But I digress. A month after conducting my initial investigations into the case for filter coffee, I remain committed to it on the grounds of sheer convenience, aroma, flavour and, as has recently occurred to me, calorific value. Espresso coffee is comprised of about one tablespoon (20mL) of coffee to as much as ten times that (200mL) in a standard cup. Filter coffee is pretty much the exact opposite, using much more water than milk to achieve the same overall volume. And in our rapidly expanding communities, who wants to be wasting precious calories on an inferior cup of coffee?

My closing statement on the matter is that filter coffee is, in general, going to be cheaper (a plastic filter cone will cost you $2-4 while an espresso machines from $150-$2000), more flavourful (and it is impossible to ‘burn’ the coffee, and better for you. However, for now, it seems that filter coffee will continue to be relegated to home settings and the types who frequent the Golden Arches.

Unless filter coffee regains trendiness in the community at large, it is unlikely to elbow espresso machines from their polished perches in every restaurant. So that’s why I’m calling on you to get the word out on the streets of Adelaide. Ask for filter coffee at your local cafe. Demand it in restaurants. Buy it at McDonalds. Yes, really. Together, we can bring back filter coffee.