Cultivating Philippine coffee

Over the long weekend, while visiting my good friend, the journalist Howie Severino, in Kapusod, by Taal Lake, I had the opportunity to experience an impromptu “cupping” by the coffee specialist Rich Watanabe, alongside my guest and Harvard hiking buddy William Gottemoller. As we sipped the award-winning beans from Sagada, the conversation naturally turned to coffee, and I’d like to impart some thoughts that have actually been brewing in my mind for quite some time.

I wasn’t an original coffee drinker. In fact, I managed to survive med school without drinking coffee. Only later on, during my trips to coffee growing regions in Latin America—from Chiapas in Mexico to Quindío in Colombia—did I begin to appreciate coffee and develop a deep respect for the entire process, from growing and drying to roasting and brewing.

When the pandemic started, I happen to have just come from a hiking trip in Ethiopia, and with the benefit of a few kilos of Yirgacheffe coffee beans, I spent a good part of the enhanced community quarantines assembling my coffee gear, from AeroPress and Hario V60 to a slow-drip cold brew contraption.

By June 2020, I had consumed all of the Ethiopian beans, but I discovered that not only was it possible to buy beans from virtually anywhere, we actually had incredible local coffee beans comparable to the geshas of the world. Thanks to H Proper Coffee Roasters, I was introduced to Sergio Loon; I eventually discovered other exceptional coffees from Sultan Kudarat (e.g., Marivic Dubria); Atok, Benguet (e.g., Oliver Oliem), Pangantucan, Bukidnon (the Blue Bottle-approved Sitio San Roque; Finca de Garces), and Bansalan, Davao del Sur (Balutakay Coffee Farmers Association); I write this still enchanted by the beans from Cherry Cabanday.

Coffee has been around in the Philippines since at least the 18th century, taking root in Batangas and spreading across the archipelago; at one point we were one of the world’s biggest coffee exporters before a series of misfortunes—including coffee rust—decimated this industry. Nonetheless, kape continued to be ingrained in our cultures, from Sulu to Sagada, and the potential for growth is vast given that, as Watanabe reminds me, our latitudinal range from 4 degrees, 23 minutes to 21 degrees and ecosystems richness lend themselves to an unparalleled complexity and diversity.

Coming at time when coffee shops are sprouting all over the country and when there is renewed appreciation for the “local” in our food choices—surely, a resurgence in coffee production, side by side with growing recognition of Philippine coffee from around the world, can gain even more momentum, contributing to rural economic development and helping solve inequities in upland communities.

As I learned from Henry Binahon, who I visited in his agroforestry farm in Bukidnon before the pandemic, as well as the environmental scientist Rodel Lasco (who happens to be my father), coffee can also do environmental wonders by being able to coexist with other forest species—especially in so-called “buffer zones.” By diverting people from livelihoods that harm the environment (e.g., mining and logging), coffee agroforestry, like ecotourism, can help save what’s left of our forests.

The potential for global recognition and representation, of course, is another upside—one that can also translate for better profits for the entire coffee industry, given that highly prized beans can fetch much higher prices. It also can surely enhance our reputation as a tourist destination, the way places like Ethiopia, Java, and Panama, draw on their coffee prestige in what is called “coffee tourism.”

There are challenges in the road ahead. Watanabe—who is also the founder of the Coffee Heritage Project—suggests two things. First, the need to protect the product; people need the assurance that whatever they’re consuming (e.g., “coffee from Mount Apo”) is what is advertised.

Second, the need to protect the beans themselves, with particular attention to heirloom varieties with their rich (and largely undocumented) histories. Barako coffee, he says, holds so much promise even as a liberica, especially if one were to rediscover its original provenance.

Corollary to the above will be supporting the farmers and indigenous/upland communities. Having good quality beans takes training, technology, machinery, networking, and yes, research—all of which will require investments from the government and the private sector, building on the 2017-2022 Philippine Coffee Industry Roadmap and commendable initiatives by the Philippine Coffee Board Inc., Coffee Heritage Project, Kalsada Coffee, Good Cup, among others.

Finally, there’s the need for the promotion of our coffee both here and abroad through marketing and economic diplomacy. Also, like the Olympics, joining competitions requires logistics, and if our farmers and baristas are to win gold, we also need to enable, not just reward, success.

Thankfully, coffee is already ingrained in our culture and with more government support as well as our own patronage of local roasters and local coffee shops that serve local coffee, we can look forward to waking up to the aroma of more amazing coffee beans that were cultivated in our own soil.

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glasco@inquirer.com.ph