I come from a family of serious coffee drinkers – generations of serious coffee drinkers.
My father was born in Laurium, Greece, a small town outside of Athens. His
father was Italian, his mother Austrian. My great grandfather was the captain
of a small coastal sailing ship that sold green coffee beans and salt to the
small towns on the Adriatic Sea, as well as to the numerous Italian and Greek
islands in the Mediterranean.
Yes, they were very heavy – and very serious – coffee drinkers. My father
used to tell me stories about how his mother roasted green coffee beans in a
coffee roasting pan every morning before the rest of the family arose.
The pan was similar to an old fashioned popcorn roasting pan and it had a very
long handle. There was even a hand crank located on the top of the coffee
chamber so the beans could be turned to prevent scorching.
Turks, Germans & Coffee Houses
My father loved to accompany his Austrian grandfather on selling trips to
the numerous coffee houses in Pireaus – the seaport outside of Athens.
My father remembers selling inferior coffee beans to the Turkish coffee houses
where the coffee beans were roasted very dark, then ground into a powder just
before being brewed.
To enhance the flavor of that dark roast (and to add a little aroma to the
coffee house) the Turks would add a small quantity of higher grade beans into
the roasting pans. At that time, just before the turn of the century, German
engineers were finishing the Corinth Canal. The numerous coffee houses
catering to the Germans used to purchase the better grades of coffee
beans for their clientele. My father vividly recalled how you were able to
locate those coffee houses and cafes by smell, long before you were able to see
them.
Hey, Soldier! Want Some Coffee?
During the Great War (WWI) my father was stationed on the Austrian border of the Italian Alps.
During the quiet periods, when they weren't slaughtering one another, my father (who was in the infantry)
used to resole the boots of the officers on both sides in exchange for coffee beans.
He recalled that the Austrian officers most definitely had a better grade of coffee than the Italian officers
during the first years of the war. As the war progressed, however, the supply of coffee beans diminished.
During the last stages of the war, my father recalled roasting all types of greenery to add to the few available coffee beans.
Gourmet Coffee . . . It's All In The Family
My association with gourmet coffee came to a halt when the Japanese
bombed Pearl Harbor. At the time, my father owned three grocery stores,
was part owner of the Montgomery Coffee Company, with another interest in a
sugar refinery.
I was a teenager and, of course, expected to join the family business. But on
December 8, 1941 my country was at war and I had to do my part. The grocery and
coffee roasting business wasn't the place to be during those times. I quit
school and, being too young for any military service, went to work for a
miliary supply company.
As the USA entered the war, my father had difficulty
purchasing green coffee beans, and on Monday December 8th, he found he couldn't
purchase any. After his current inventory was exhausted, he was out of the
coffee business in a few short months. Then, the government put a hold on
his sugar factory forcing a sale of all my Pop's businesses but one.
After the war, I went to work for an airline. My father had expanded again
and wanted to return to the coffee roasting business. Ah, but I was young
and there was no way I was going to leave the glamorous aviation industry.
Looking back, I sometimes think I may have been happier blending beans and
inhaling the fragrant aromas of freshly roasted gourmet coffees –
rather than foul-smelling aviation fuel.
I'm fortunate to come from a long line of coffee connoisseurs, and I continue
to enjoy gourmet coffees with the best of them. Right now, it's rather late
. . . so I'll have a cup of Colombian Supremo. Tomorrow's another
day.
My father loved to accompany his Austrian grandfather on selling trips to
the numerous coffee houses in Pireaus – the seaport outside of Athens.
My father remembers selling inferior coffee beans to the Turkish coffee houses
where the coffee beans were roasted very dark, then ground into a powder just
before being brewed.
During the Great War (WWI) my father was stationed on the Austrian border of the Italian Alps.
During the quiet periods, when they weren't slaughtering one another, my father (who was in the infantry)
used to resole the boots of the officers on both sides in exchange for coffee beans.
