Tegu, Talus, and Umami

Apologies. In today's epistle, I am going to indulge myself in comparing coffee and wine, an exercise which has grown tiresome to many. (hi, Trish!)

But, as it happens, I cupped a few arrival samples of Kenya auction lots on Friday. And, as it happens, one of them was lot 830, from the Tegu cooperative. Now, when we were visiting Kenya last month, Duane and I learned that this may be the best lot of the whole year, according to a number of tasters there. Fortunately for coffee lovers in Portland, Chicago, and North Carolina, this lot is owned jointly by you-know-who, you-know-who and you-know-who.

It is certainly the best lot of the year from my perspective. The coffee is an absolute punch-in-the-face of raspberry, blackcurrant, black pepper, cognac, port wine, mascarpone cheese, and top sirloin. After tasting on Friday, I could not stop thinking about this coffee. I would be doing something constructive, and all of a sudden the Tegu lot would occur to me, and my mouth would start watering and I would start deconstructing the flavors again. Really memorable, this lot. Sadly, I was facing a weekend without any possibility of drinking the lovely Tegu, as the coffee is currently sitting in San Francisco, waiting for shipment here.

As I am inclined to do when feeling melancholy, I went to my little bottle collection to find a wine to open up and drink while going about my weekend business. I wound up opening a bottle from Talus, a winery in the obscure Lodi district east of San Francisco. Thank God I chose this bottle, a zinfandel from 2002. Perhaps it was my need for satisfaction, but the wine was chock full of berries, black pepper and a mouthwatering savory character, which was exactly the therapy my palate needed. A perfect equivalent of the sock-it-to-'em Tegu, I found myself charmed by the dark fruit complexity and umami characteristics of the wine.

This experience made me reflect on the nature of umami, which is a key component to both the lovely Tegu and the wonderful Talus Zin. What is umami, you ask? (at this point, those who know me well are saying, "here he goes, about umami again.") I just can't help it.

Umami is a Japanese word, and translates most directly as "deliciousness". Why Japanese? The story goes like this:

For ages, the Japanese have used a seaweed called kombu in the omnipresent "dashi" stock, used everywhere in Japanese cooking. In the early 1900s, a scientist by the name of Professor Kikunae Ikeda set out to discover what made kombu so special. What he discovered was the presence of a fifth flavor component (after sweet, sour, salty and bitter). This flavor component gave delicious flavor to such foods as tomatoes and meat, and was especially present in kombu as well as foods with high yeast activity, like soy sauce, wine, bread, and cheese. He named this flavor "umami", and was able to isolate its key chemical component, glutamic acid. Turns out, glutamic acid is the most common amino acid in dietary protein. Dr. Ikeda was able to create a seasoning based on glutamic acid, by precipitating it as a salt. You guessed it, monosodium glutamate or MSG. Sadly, MSG fell upon hard times in the 70s, when a group of alarmists, led by Dr. Russell Blaylock and Dr. George Schwartz, declared MSG harmful. Their theory was based on the notion that MSG "overstimulated" your taste buds, leading to neurological damage. (basically, the idea is that stuff that tastes too good will kill you. Ugh.) There has never been any substantial or significant data to support this theory. However, most Americans still think of MSG as dangerous. Too bad for them.

Lucky for us, glutamic acid is present in great coffee, and it is especially charming when it occurs. My theory is that it is a byproduct of the fermentation process used in many of the great coffees. The umami taste is especially present in great Kenyas. Is it a coincidence that Kenyan washing stations often fement an uncommonly long time?

The mind reels.

Enjoy your umami.

Peter G