by Kevin Sinnott - click for more information about the author

Rather than waste your time and my ranting about what dark roasts are missing, I'm going to try to explain why dark roasts have gone from being a regional style to mainstream within just a few years.

In case you don't know the story of dark roasting, it begins, not in Italy or Yemen, but in the United States Old West. Prospectors in San Francisco would buy several months' provisions for their entrepreneurial venture into the mountains in search of gold. Roasters were under the misconception that if coffee was roasted to the point where oils appeared over the entire surface of the beans, this "coating" offered some preserving action, a kind of coffee shrink wrap.

And, it did make sense to the taste buds. Anyone who has bought dark roasts usually finds it harder to tell when the product gets old. A critic might say it’s because the more delicate flavors have been burned off in the roast. Let's just agree that dark roasts do seem to keep their flavors longer. Whether this really means the coffee stays fresher longer is subject to debate, but please let's save that for another time.

So, the American West Coast, roughly from San Francisco upwards, has a history of dark roasting, one that either inspired or accepted Alfred Peet's eccentric habit of roasting his beans beyond recognition. I meant this last bit literally. Peet's coffees are almost impossible for me to tell apart in standard brewing tests. The only exceptions are some of his aged coffees, which are so different and "take the roast" so exceptionally well, that they are easy to spot, even after the most careless brewing.

But, none of this really answers the question of consumer acceptance. It's too easy to just stand around with coffee snobs (my friends) as we brew for each other and play flavor tune detective, a game we all feel is spoiled when coffees are roasted too long. It's too lame to just blame the snake oil "marketers," nor do I want to credit them.

I've discovered an answer, and, as usual, it comes from observing other cooking arts. Grilling, for instance. Have you ever wondered why we all can't wait for those long summer weekends, bad Hawaiian shirts included, where we cook all manner of food on those charcoal grills? It's not just for the cold drinks and chance to see friends.

We all love to see our food with those "grill marks" on them. Those are so prized that a major fast food chain painted them onto their chicken pieces. Well those marks are really where the meat or vegetables came in contact with the grills' hottest part, the surface. That surface is so hot that it actually singes the food wherever it comes into contact.

That burning causes carmelization. Did you know that caramels are pieces of burnt sugar and milk? Carmelization results in a smoky sweetness.

Another analogy. The popularity of oaked wines, especially Chardonnay, is directly attributable to the sweetening effect of charred wood. It's basically another way of doing the same thing, to enhance the taste by adding sweetness.

Now, I'm not judging here, I'm actually trying to answer the question that plagues many a serious specialty coffee roaster. A lot of them were left scratching their collective heads when, following the return of some great single origin coffees, the public seemed to suddenly become entranced with coffees roasted to cover the very tastes that distinguish these coffees.

To them, and to me, I say, sweetness sells.

From a brewing standpoint, sweetness is also easier to extract. The caramelized flavors in coffee are almost brew-proof. I'm not saying that brewing doesn't matter, but I can back up what I'm saying with some simple brewing tests. If I vary the time, temperature or formulas with light roasts I find I get significant taste changes. When I do the same thing using dark roasts I find the results far more consistent.

I doubt Starbucks, Alfred Peet or anyone else predicted this side effect to dark roasting.

But as we’ve seen, dark roasting often makes brewed coffee sweeter.  What it all comes down to is... Sweetness sells.

by Kevin Sinnott - click for more information about the author

I’m going to “out” the industry as well as coffee snobs who do more harm than good when it comes to bringing the joys of great coffee to people around the globe.

One of the biggest myths around is that coffee connoisseurs only drink the stuff black – that is minus cream, sweeteners or, for that matter, any flavor you can mention.

Let me tell you a little story. I was “cupping” once with someone who’s well known in the industry.  He represents upscale coffees from farms where I bet they vacuum the employees to keep dust off the precious coffee plants. I know they carefully cut the weeds rather than use any solvents to clear the fields.

Let’s call him Michael. Michael and I were cupping – that is, rating various coffee samples. Cupping is the coffee equivalent to taking carpet swatches and testing them in your living room, only instead of wall-to-wall carpeting, the cupper wants wall-to-wall flavor. It is necessary to brew it very consistently and to drink it straight, nothing added, and at several temperatures. (Believe it or not, coffee flavor is most revealing as it cools. Try it yourself some time – take a few sips of some cold coffee.)

Michael and I finished our work (yes, it is considered work) and he made notes as to which coffees were going to be purchased in big lots, then we left to take a break – a coffee break. Michael broke out some rolls he’d bought from his favorite French baker that morning, put on some music and brewed a pot of coffee with some of his firm’s latest blends featuring a beautiful aged Colombian in the formula. He weighed the beans, ground them in his $1200 commercial grinder and brewed a full pot. You might think we were caffeinated enough, but, most coffee that is cupped is expelled (spit out) so there is little if any caffeine absorbed.

As we sat down to enjoy, Michael just naturally reached into one of those little dorm-room refrigerators and took out some 18% cream. Without skipping a beat, he poured it into his cup to achieve whatever learned degree of lightness to which he’s grown accustomed, then scooted it across the table to me. I must have broken out in a smile, because he looked suddenly perplexed and asked if something was wrong.

“I guess I didn’t expect you to use cream,” I said.

“Oh, well, we’re relaxing,” he responded matter-of-factly.

Ah, yes, relaxing. In other words, we’re drinking for pleasure.

To some degree, this comes down to the reason why you drink coffee at all. I know there are people who say they drink coffee to stay awake. I’ve suggested to actors that they drink coffee in a scene in order to give them what’s known as “business” to do. Alcoholics drink coffee as a substitute. The list goes on.