I don’t know what possessed me, but I decided to order imported Brazilian coffee—as if I’m living in Oslo with Amazon Prime Fresh Beans 2-Day Delivery. But no. I’m in Hyderabad, and the beans travelled more than I have in the last five years.
And somehow I thought they’d arrive smiling, fresh, chirpy, and ready to brew magic.
The Arrival
After paying a price that made me question all my life choices, the courier man left in our milk bag a tiny packet of coffee beans—100 grams.
I opened it expecting angels to sing. Instead, I was greeted by the unmistakable smell of a roast so dark, even Dracula might say, “Boss, this is too much.”
Dark Roast Disaster
Why would anyone dark roast a premium Brazilian bean meant to highlight its delicate fruity notes? Dark roast converts everything into charcoal of some form. That’s like buying a Ferrari and painting it with blackboard paint.
Premium? Imported? Roasted to death?
I’m not sure what emotion fits here—confusion, sadness, or mild comedy.
The Taste Test
I brewed it carefully, lovingly, patiently… hoping for at least a hint of good coffee.
Nope.
It tasted like carbon with a sprinkle of disappointment.
If sadness had a flavor, this was it.
If bitterness had a cousin, this was the cousin.
And if someone wanted to prank me with overpriced burnt beans, this was the perfect execution.
The Aftermath
As someone who prefers light roast—where you can actually taste the coffee berry—this was like chewing a charcoal pencil. Why even bother importing something if the delivery time alone guarantees the bean’s soul leaves its body?
But I’m a responsible person. I won’t waste food. Or coffee.
So I’ll drink this 100g packet in 6–7 days…
…like a punishment I paid money for.
Lesson Learned
Unless you're living in a country where "fresh" actually means fresh and not “roasted sometime during the last ice age,” imported coffee is a gamble.
This time, I lost.
Comments
The only positive outcome of this gamble, is a blogpost post!