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Today I attempted my very first Vietnamese-style Phin filter coffee… and let’s just say, I discovered at least seven new ways not to make coffee. Honestly, if there was an award for “Maximum Mistakes in Minimum Time,” I would have brewed my way to gold.
Being the kind of person who enjoys experimenting with different coffee styles, I’ve always been curious about the Vietnamese way of doing things. The Phin filter is a charming stainless-steel contraption with permanent filter screens full of generously spaced holes—clearly designed by someone who trusts coffee grounds a little too much.
Mistake #1: Condensed Milk Catastrophe
I began by squeezing what can only be called a recklessly large amount of sweetened condensed milk into my cup. Close to two tablespoons. For a single serving. The result? When the coffee finally dripped in, it turned the colour of someone who saw a ghost—pale, confused, and extremely sweet. Lesson learned: one tablespoon is plenty. Possibly too plenty.
Mistake #2: The Grind That Escaped
Next came the coffee grind. I set my 1Zpresso grinder to what I thought was a good level, only to discover the Phin filter holes were so wide they could practically rent out as an Airbnb for coffee particles. Some grounds enthusiastically escaped even before the water touched them. A finer grind might fix this due to higher bind, but there’s also the risk of choking the filter. Clearly, this system wants a balance that only a Vietnamese grandmother knows.
Mistake #3: The Great Water Flood
Then came the pouring. The Phin filter can hold 170 ml of hot water, which is impressive for its size. What’s not impressive is my decision to pour all 170 ml directly from the electric kettle in one aggressive swoosh.
The bed of coffee responded by erupting like a small, caffeinated volcano. Bubbles everywhere. The grounds lifted, danced, rearranged themselves, and possibly filed a complaint.
Next time, I’ll pour gently. Like someone defusing a bomb. Or better: I’ll first transfer the water from the electric kettle to proper pour over coffee kettle so it behaves like a polite, civilized liquid.
Mistake #4: Skipping Bloom Like a Rookie
I did no bloom. No pre-wetting. I basically told the coffee beans, “Wake up!” and threw boiling water on their heads. Not surprisingly, the extraction was weak, confused, and sweet in all the wrong ways.
A 30-second bloom should definitely help next time — preferably before the coffee bed decides to float away again.
Mistake #5: Way Too Much Water
The Phin filter I bought is clearly designed for two cups worth of brewing. I stuffed it with all 170 ml of water for just 12 grams of coffee. What came out tasted like diluted sweetened milk wearing a thin coffee perfume. I suspect 120–130 ml of water would be the sweet spot.
What Actually Went Okay
The new batch of robusta beans I used weren’t bad at all. Not much aroma, sure, as were to be expected from non arabica beans — but the flavour was neutral and agreeable. Honestly, of everything involved today, the beans were the only thing not protesting.
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Conclusion
My first Phin experiment was basically a coffee sitcom: too much condensed milk, runaway coffee grounds, a hyperactive water pour, and a weak extraction. But I learned enough to know that next time will be better — slower pour, proper bloom, less water, and definitely no tsunami inside the filter.
If nothing else, Vietnamese coffee taught me humility. And also that condensed milk is not to be underestimated.
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