This is one unique coffee just by the monsooned factor. Monsooned Malabar beans are harvested, processed, and laid to age in monsoon weather for about a year: mellows the beans and turns them a golden tan. The resultant brew is akin to a dry wine and very earthy. Tasting it would make you imagine they processed nuts right along with the coffee, as it has a pronounced nutty flavor.
I took this coffee fresh on a two-day backpacking trip with friends who were reliant on my gourmet discrimination in coffee, but tentative of my description of this particular coffee. We made it in one of those Bodum stovetop espresso makers after eight miles of up and down and eight hours of listening to me snoring in Big Basin, California. And as the sky lightened and our joints made it clear how really stiff they were, the beautiful brown and black foam came tumbling into view; well the aroma was the first hint that this was something different. It has this tea like flavor. It is light and not sweet at all really. Wine is supposed to be a negative word in cupping, but in this coffee with its particularity, well, it is right. This is the same country that produces the red wine of teas, darjeeling, and this coffee is darjeeling's odd Uncle Stan. There is an odd balance to it all. Maybe it comes from drying on the docks only to be drenched again by the monsoon rains, only to dry again, and be monsooned again. The late acidity and medium body and rich texture. It is a strange brew, but one that made those first few hours on sore legs livable. And when we got back, I had to split the roast between my two friends, so be careful who you share it with. (Kind of like Uncle Stan.)