Smoke begins to rise. Pastel-green beans dance upon a worn, flat stage that shields them from a fire burning below. A young lady, the composer of sorts, moves the beans around in calculated motion as to make sure they all dance in harmony. As I sit there, in awe and anticipation, it appears to me as nothing short of art.
I’m referring to the Ethiopian way of coffee. But before I indulge in the artistry of it all, let me say that this art took centuries of perfection.
The espresso you get on your way to work, and the pumpkin spice latte you hate to love may not exist at all if it weren’t for the first foragers in Ethiopia.