Cranberry • Vanilla • Grapefruit • Sweet Tea

Process: Natural | Origin: Guji | Variety: Landrace

Day 2 dealt us the Two of Hearts, which feels appropriately sentimental for a coffee born from collaboration, craft, and deeply intentional farming. The card reads like a love letter to the producers—thin-layer drying, 15–20 days, clarity over chaos, fruit without the funk. Basically: a natural process that has its life together.

First Impressions: “This Smells Like Nature’s Hardcover Edition”

One whiff of the beans and it’s clear why Onyx described this thing like a botanical encyclopedia. Tea leaves. Wild herbs. The sort of aroma that makes you feel like you should be wearing linen.

Natural process coffees often sprint into the “overripe fruit smoothie left on a porch” zone—but not this one. This one has restraint. Manners, even.

Dose & Chaos Theory

You aimed for 18.2g. You got… well… more than that. The scale had its own plans, but the grinder always wins these arguments, so into the hopper it went.

The first grind: –5. A bold, borderline-reckless move. The kind of move that says, “We ride at dawn.”

The espresso machine responded with a polite but firm: No.

A tiny drizzle of liquid squeaked out like the machine was whispering, “Please reconsider your life choices.”

Thus began the Ritual of Adjustment.

Bloom, Backflow, and the Austenian Drama of Dial-In

You stopped the shot. You let it backflow. You tried again.

A heroic effort, but –5 was still too fine—espresso sludge territory.

So the grinder moved to –2, which immediately felt like the Goldilocks zone. The pressure built. The stream turned dark and steady. The crema layered like a velvet curtain dropping on cue.

A proper espresso shot was born.

The Tasting: Fall in a Cup, But Make It Ethiopian

The hot shot first: • Bright tartness up front • A cranberry-meets-raisin sparkle • Vanilla hovering like gentle background music • And the kicker: a sweet tea finish so unmistakable it practically asked for a porch swing

This thing is leafy in the best way. Organic. Light. Structured. A warm-fall-afternoon kind of vibe—the part of autumn before society forces you into decorative gourds.

Then came the iced Americano version, because desert life demands it. Somehow the cold version amplified that sweet tea note even more, as if the coffee said, “You want tea? Say no more, fam.”

Verdict

A graceful, fruit-forward natural that never slips into overripe territory. It’s airy, clean, and strangely nostalgic—a coffee that tastes like the moment summer hands the keys over to fall.

Dial-in adventure aside, this one is a keeper.