Light roast kicked my ass

Hello,

I'm really good at making coffee.

Not trying to be cocky. Just being honest. After years of daily practice, thousands of cups, countless experiments, I know my stuff. I can dial in a brew. I understand what I'm tasting. I can make coffee that satisfies me, my wife, friends, whoever.

That feels good to say out loud.

Because here's the thing. I'm also really good at project management. Been doing it for years. Engineering projects, coordinating teams, seeing things through. I understand that it's not really project management, it's people management. Knowing how to get things done through other people.

I'm legitimately skilled at it.

And I don't give a shit about it.

It doesn't excite me. It doesn't give me that sense of belonging or meaning. It doesn't make me want to wake up and get better at it.

But coffee? Coffee does all of that.

And the cool thing about coffee, the thing that makes it different from almost anything else, is that you can practice it every single day.

Some hobbies you can only do once a week, once a month. But coffee? If you drink it daily, you get daily reps. Daily chances to improve. Daily opportunities to build real, tangible skill.

And over time, those reps add up. You start to understand what you're doing. You figure out how to bring the best out of a coffee the way the roaster intended it. You develop preferences. You build systems that work for you.

You get confident.

And that confidence spreads. I noticed it a few weeks ago when I was making sausage. Texas-style jalapeño cheddar, but I did it with spinach and different spices this time. I hadn't stuffed sausage in six or seven months, and I was nervous.

But when I got everything prepped and started the process, it was so much easier than the first two times I'd done it. Smoother. More confident. Because of the reps in the tank.

That's what coffee teaches you. When you put in the reps, you get better. And when you get better, you build confidence. And that confidence touches other parts of your life.

At the bare minimum, you can make a damn good cup of coffee. And that's not nothing.

But here's where this story takes a turn.

The Thing That Humbled Me

I've been drinking light roast for the past few weeks. Trying to get back into it. Testing different origins, different brewing methods, playing with my AeroPress, adjusting my water chemistry.

And I'm not gonna sugarcoat this. It tastes like shit.

I just had a cup. Same thing. Just acidity. No sweetness. No balance. Nothing interesting.

Just lemon juice water.

Or unripe tomatoes, depending on the day.

And I'm frustrated. Really frustrated. Because I used to LOVE light roast. That's all I cared about when I first got into specialty coffee. You know, those super bright African coffees, Kenyan, Ethiopian, all that stuff. I wanted to taste coffee as pure as possible. I chased clarity and fruit notes and all those delicate flavors.

But somewhere along the way, I lost it. Now when I taste light roast, they all taste the same to me. Just varying degrees of acidity. Some harsh, some softer, but fundamentally the same.

I'm a medium and dark roast person now. That's where I can taste nuances. That's where coffee talks to me. That's where I find balance between sweetness and acidity and body.

But light roast? I'm not getting it anymore.

And that's humbling as hell.

Because I thought I had this coffee thing figured out. I built all this confidence. And then one category of coffee just breaks me.

The Challenge

So here's what I'm doing. I'm committing to a month-long challenge to figure out light roast.

Not because I think everyone needs to like light roast. Not because I think it's "better" than medium or dark. But because I want to understand why I'm struggling with something I used to love.

And I'm inviting you to come along for the ride.

Here's what I'm testing over the next month:

Development levels. Light roast needs to be developed properly in the roasting process. I recently roasted some coffees extremely light, first crack at 6 minutes 30 seconds, which is FAST, and all I taste is acidity. So I need to slow down, let the beans develop more even if they're still finishing light. Maybe that's where the sweetness hides.

Different origins. Maybe my beloved Brazilian coffee, the one I call my go-to, works better as light roast than I think. Maybe Kenyan and Ethiopian coffees are actually better as medium or dark roast. I don't know. I'm going to find out.

Brewing methods. Maybe light roast shines as espresso, where the intensity brings out characteristics I'm missing in pour-over. Maybe it's an AeroPress thing. Maybe I need to completely change my approach.

Water and temperature. Playing with different mineral profiles, different brew temps, seeing what happens.

The goal isn't to force myself to like something I don't. The goal is to understand WHY I like what I like, and WHY I'm struggling with what I'm struggling with.

Because here's the uncomfortable question I keep asking myself. Do I actually not like light roast? Or do I just THINK I should like it because that's what the specialty coffee world told me I should like?

Same question applies in reverse. Do dark roast haters actually hate dark roast? Or do they think they're supposed to hate it because that's what they've been told?

What True Confidence Actually Looks Like

I thought confidence meant having everything figured out. Being good at something and staying in that zone.

But I'm realizing that's not confidence. That's comfort.

Real confidence is admitting when you're struggling and pushing into the discomfort anyway.

Real confidence is saying I don't understand this, and I'm going to figure it out instead of I don't like this, so I'm avoiding it.

Real confidence is being vulnerable enough to say this coffee tastes like shit to me right now, and I don't know why.

Because coffee is weird. It's not exact. We're playing in a gray area. Coffee changes day to day. We're using different waters, different brewers, different preferences. Some of us add cream, some drink it black, some make mixed drinks with it.

And what works for me might not work for you. What I taste might not be what you taste.

But the process of exploring, testing, pushing boundaries, that's where the growth happens.

That's where the real confidence comes from. Not from being good at something, but from being willing to suck at something and get better.

Your Turn

So here's what I'm asking.

If you're struggling with a category of coffee, light roast, dark roast, whatever, join me on this challenge. Pick one coffee style you don't understand or don't enjoy. Commit to exploring it for a month. Really try to figure it out.

Share what you discover. Not what you think you're supposed to say. What you actually experience. The good, the bad, the "this tastes like lemon juice water."

Ask yourself the hard question. Do I actually not like this? Or do I think I'm not supposed to like it?

I'll be writing about this challenge, ranting about it, probably questioning my life choices at some point. And I want to hear from you too.

What are you struggling with in coffee? What did you use to love that you don't understand anymore? What are you curious about but too intimidated to explore?

Or hit reply and tell me: Are you team light roast, team dark roast, team medium, or team "I honestly have no idea what I like anymore"?

Because I'm currently in that last category. And I'm okay admitting it.

Oke