Angry Whale
Grabbing the dime-bag of specialty coffee beans, I looked closely at the Red Whale logo, and that morning, before I had any coffee, it looked like an Angry Whale, with that single eye cocked, and the apparent brow scowling. The color, the company’s name, Red Whale just added emphasis. Great name, excellent logo design.
Most important? Good, good coffee.
It’s from my sister in Marin County — she’s West Marin — and the coffee beans are such a treat. Properly roasted, usually fresh, ergonomically-sourced, free-range, just the right stuff.
What motivated me was a single bag, dime-bag to me, only, with its Left Coast prices, more like $30 for a 12-oz bag, and it was labeled, “Guatemala.”
Santa Felisa Geisha Natural 1600
“Notes of tropical fruit, milk chocolate, good balanced acidity, with a good lingering finish.”
Angry Whale
Over the last few years, the Red Whale coffee from my sister has been — pretty much — the only high-end coffee I’ve had. Local roasters and regional brands have all moved into a more mass-produced kind of framework which renders the product more uniform, but less individual.
Meh.
The flavor? I can’t say for sure. Maybe I am less of coffee gourmand and therefore, less of expert now.
Where I do certainly notice the difference? The aroma of the fresh ground beans seems to permeate the kitchen area with promise. Promises, hopes, and the very specific trigger from the way coffee is supposed to smell.
More than any other element, it’s that aromatic blend, more than the flavor itself. Either I’m not making it strong enough, which I’ll address at a later date, or maybe, I’m not sensitive to the delicate and nuanced flavors.
But the smell? That is truly delicious. Sets it apart from any other beans I’ve had in the last years.
Always grateful for good coffee.
