How coffee growing in the center of Taiwan changed my life for good

Ancient knowledge challenged my notion of what plants are.

The City of Taipei, Taiwan.

My name is Josué Morales and I have been in the coffee industry since 2003. In 2011, during one of my visits to the City of Taipei, in Taiwan, I learned a lesson that would permanently change the way in which I grow my coffee. 

I can describe my first visit to Taiwan in two words: cultural shock. 

This visit made such a long lasting impact on me that, if any given night I close my eyes, I can clearly see the colorful lights of the Linjiang Street Night Market, near the Taipei 101 building. This is where I experienced some of the most bizarre foods I’ve ever seen. 

From deep fried battered duck heads that are sold with the long neck inserted into a stick, to the unmistakable smell of the stinky tofu that announces itself from half a block away. This is where I tasted some of the strangest foods I’ve ever tasted. Even foods that at first sight appear to be very similar to Western foods are not only different but completely unfamiliar. 

My sole purpose of this visit was to sell coffee. 

By that time, I was convinced that I was producing Specialty Coffee of outstanding quality in Guatemala. For that reason, it was obvious to me that hoards of roasters would come running to throw their money at me. Turns out, that didn’t happen. 

For starters, I was used to going to trade shows in the Western World. Specialty Coffee Trade Shows, where I would stand out because I was producing High Altitude Organic Coffee in Guatemala and I had strong relationships with producers through my traceability programs. 

Things were different in Taiwan. The trade show that I went to was not exactly a Specialty Coffee Trade Show. It was a Beverage Trade Show that consolidated Tea, Coffee and Wine. My coffee, the very special product that I was so proud of, was to this audience just another beverage.

I had fallen under the spell of what I now call the Chinese Fairy Tale, or the idea that because the economies of the Asian countries are so dynamic, especially China, that they are dying to consume whatever is placed in front of them. Turns out, they are not. 

The vast majority of the Asian population has a very strongly rooted culture of drinking tea, not coffee. The coffee that is so dear to my heart was for them nothing more than a curiosity, perhaps a souvenir. 

And then, I met Van Lin. 

Van Lin is the owner of a coffee shop and consulting company in Taipei called GaBee, which means “coffee” in Taiwanese, and the man who introduced me to a very different definition of Specialty Coffee that blew my mind. 

The very first beverage he ever served me at GaBee was one of his signature drinks which involve espresso, brewed coffee, frozen grapes and Pop Rocks candy. The drink is a revolution to the senses, as you sip you get the acidity of the grapes, the taste of the coffee and immediately the shock of the candy popping in your mouth. 

This was an awesome heresy to me! 

Van Lin and Josue Morales at GaBee. November 2011.

I came from a world where Specialty Coffee had everything to do with the coffee itself, brewed in a way that would reveal its origin, and explained in the context of its traceability. And here was this guy who had built a very successful business around the concept of messing around with the taste of the coffee! 

Every aspect of the taste that would reveal its origin was lost in the process –on purpose! And he was not alone. The whole industry –incipient at that time– was doing exactly the same. I was perplexed. 

Van later explained to me the importance that rituals have in their culture. How they were much more focused on the experience than in the coffee itself. What they valued the most was a taste that would reveal the process, rather than its origin. From this point of view, coffee is not a finished product; it’s only an ingredient. 

The standards of taste from the Western World meant nothing here. It was all about perfecting the rituals around a completely new interpretation of the craft. 

Van has always been restless in the pursuit of being at the forefront of innovating and perfecting these rituals. He was the first Latte Art Champion in Taiwan, and became famous for inventing the technique of pouring milk into a latte in the form of a swan. He has also published many books about coffee pairing as an ingredient in cocktails and other beverages.

One day, a peculiar crowd of people spontaneously gathered at GaBee. A multicultural gathering from Tokyo, Hong Kong, UK, the USA, and myself, from Guatemala. These were people who were coffee professionals like me, and we were all there because we had heard about this place and wanted to experience it firsthand. 

We went out to have lunch together. I remember having some of the spiciest food that I’ve ever eaten. I also remember how easily and naturally a sense of community and genuine friendship was born among us, around the love for coffee, and congregated around the magic of GaBee.

This friendship with Van Lin also led me to learn about a community of coffee producers in the province of Tainan, in the center of Taiwan. Something I would remember later on, during my most desperate search for answers to the Leaf Rust Crisis we were living back home. 

The Leaf Rust, as I have explained in a previous article [What does Organic Coffee mean to me?] is a fungal disease that makes a host out of coffee leaves, restricting their capacity to perform photosynthesis, thus affecting coffee production and even the survival of the plant.

I spent months trying to find a way to go visit the producers in Tainan. I was convinced that going to one of the most isolated coffee production areas on the planet would allow me to learn something new. 

First, I needed a translator for the trip. This was finally arranged for me by the Guatemalan Embassy in Taiwan. Then, I needed the producers to actually accept to host me. I traveled to Taiwan without the certainty that this would happen, finally coming all together a day before I had to fly back home. 

The visit was to be hosted by the Growers Association of Taiwan. It was a surprise for them that a foreigner wanted to visit their fields. It was a surprise for me that there had never been a coffee producer from another country who had ever requested to visit them. For this reason, they didn’t have a protocol in place to receive a foreign visitor. I insisted so much that they created one for me. 

As I sat in the fast train that goes from Taipei to Tainan in only two hours, I anxiously went over and over the questions I wanted to ask these producers. Taiwan is an island. Coffee had been brought there by a Japanese Emperor back when the Island was controlled by Japan, over a hundred years ago. 

Two hours later and an hour’s drive and we were sitting at the office of one of the associations. They had an elaborate reception according to their custom, with many greetings and many protocols that I am very grateful for. But that was not what I was looking for. 

Right before leaving, by mere accident, I found the first clue that would later lead me to what I was really looking for. I wandered into a room where the fertilizer they use was being portioned to be distributed to the members of the group and I was able to snap a picture of the bag with its formula on it. Then we left. 

It was pouring rain and it was starting to be used as an excuse not to take me to the mountains. But I needed to go to the mountains. I wanted to see and touch the coffee trees. This was one of the main reasons why I had made it all the way to that point. The uncomfortable combination of my stubbornness and their hospitality ended up leading my hosts to agree to take me to the mountains.

Coffee plantations in Tainan, Taiwan. November 18, 2014.

As we drove up the hills, all I could make out were these tall shrubs shaded by palm trees. I grew impatient and disappointed. I feared that I wasn’t being taken to see what I wanted to see. 

I hopped off the car. I was blowing steam. Frustration was creating even more clouds inside my head. Were we here to drink coffee? Were we here for more meetings? Were we here for more protocols? That was absolutely not what I was looking for. 

As we walked towards the canopy, I was hit by yet another surprise. Those tree-like shrubs were actually the coffee trees that I was so desperately looking for. I didn’t recognize them before because of the idea of what a coffee shrub is in my head. These were actual trees that produced coffee. They were very tall and very wide. It made sense, I thought. They had been growing here for a hundred years. Coffee has changed a lot during that span of time, even in the way the plants look.

As I came near one of these trees I was surprised, relieved and anxious to see that even with its staggering size it seemed to be very healthy, and productive, and bearing a lot of coffee cherries. When I finally reached for one of the branches and was able to turn around one of the leaves, I could feel the pulsations in my veins. There was rust on the leaf. 

How in the world did it get here? In this place, in an island, in a coffee growing region that was completely isolated from all others, in a coffee region whose only foreign visitor up to that day had been me?

The protocols of the reception and the visit needed to happen. We ate lunch on a terrace on the side of a river, surrounded by coffee trees, and under the pouring rain. Food was memorable and plentiful. The experience was magnificent. But I had questions. 

With the help of my translator, I established fluid communication. But when I finally got to the part when I asked the questions, she stalled. I was trying to ask questions that were too technical and too specific. It was evident that she was doing her best, but she wasn’t getting the message across. I wasn’t being understood, and I was running out of time.

Out of impatience, I started drawing on a piece of paper, as an aid to communication. But that still wasn’t enough. Hours had gone by and I was still not being understood.

Mr. Chen and I, at one of the warehouses for the Taiwanese Coffee Growers Association. 2014.

In essence, all I wanted to know was how were their coffee trees so vigorous despite the rust? How come they hadn’t lost their leaves despite having the leaf rust? Why were they so productive despite having the leaf rust? 

As a last resort, out of pure despair, I took out my camera and showed them the picture of the bag of fertilizer that I had snapped before. 

That sparked deliberation among them. A lot of deliberation. To the point that I was sure that I had offended them. 

I waited in expectation. 

Finally, Mr. Chen, the leader of the group, took me out into the fields. As he was doing this, he explained to me that it wasn’t about the formula of the products they use, but the way they use them to interact with the plant. He then proceeded to demonstrate to me how they interact with each plant.

He went on to explain that, just as each person has needs and each person has reactions to your behaviors, also each plant has needs and each plant has reactions to your behaviors.

Each plant is alive, as an individual and as part of a community. 

Nurturing that life is about guiding it the right way, not about forcing it to produce. By feeding it the right things to properly develop its strength, not force feeding it with all the fertilizers available. It’s about working with the plant to widen its root system, to allow for it to thrive amongst adversity. 

My mind was blown. My Western constructs and ideas had been challenged beyond repair.

These producers have the concept that they are dealing with a live organism when dealing with the coffee plants. Simple as it is, this concept changed my life for good. This concept alone made it worthwhile to overcome so many obstacles to come this far. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon asking very different types of questions. They were not technical anymore. They had to do with interaction, with communication, with caring.

I took the train back to Taipei that same evening, and went from the train station directly to the airport. I had a lot of work to do.