







The highland mist
Da Lat, Lâm Đồng, 1,400–1,600 m. Mornings open in mist, days are strong with sun, nights turn cold. That swing lets the fruit ripen slowly.

From a quiet house in Fukuoka.
From the morning mist of Da Lat to your cup.








Da Lat, Lâm Đồng, 1,400–1,600 m. Mornings open in mist, days are strong with sun, nights turn cold. That swing lets the fruit ripen slowly.








A ripe coffee cherry turns the red of brick. Even on one branch, each fruit ripens in its own time. The harvest runs from November to January.






So it cannot all be picked at once. Only the fruit that has turned red is chosen, and picked by hand.
















Once picked, the fruit is parted into seed and skin. From here, there are two roads.








No honey goes into it. Once the skin is off, the seed is still wrapped in fruit flesh, sticky as honey — that feel is where the name comes from. Instead of washing it off, the seeds are dried on raised beds with it still on. As they dry, the sweetness of the fruit stays close to the seed, and the cup is said to come out sweeter and rounder than a washed coffee. It takes more work, and a misread sky lets it ferment too far.
From the same single fruit.





Unseal it, and set it gently on the rim of the cup.
Pour 20ml at about 90°C. Then wait thirty seconds, quietly.
Pour the remaining 160ml in two slow rounds, as if drawing out the finish.
Two and a half minutes in all. Lift the bag away without hurry.

For a morning a little unlike the last.
And for the person you would hand it to.
A box for the people you write to once a year.

The house begins with observing the raw beans.
Lighting the fire comes later.
The House →