The Little Coffee Bush

On one of our road trips, we decided to visit Coorg and explore the region. I had been there many times as a child with my dad, and I was eager for Upesh to see it too. He often calls the hills in the South "pimples of mountains" — a teasing reference, since he comes from the towering Himalayan ranges near his hometown.

We explored Coorg, and we loved it. We stayed at a quaint little Airbnb called River Edge. The couple who ran the place were perfect hosts, and the view from our room was breathtaking. The food was delicious too. This was sometime back in 2014.

Beautiful Coorg — the views from our window, our room, Upesh chilling by the stream nearby, and a walk through the estate with coffee bushes and pepper creepers on old tree trunks.

While wandering around the property, I was struck by the beauty of the coffee bushes growing all around. Curious, I asked our host if we could take a small sapling back with us. The lady, ever so kind, gave us a little bush without hesitation. I never thought to ask whether it was Arabica or Robusta. She must’ve thought, what would these Darjeeling tea drinkers know? And she wouldn’t be wrong. Though I’m Tamilian and always up for a good filter coffee, we weren’t exactly coffee connoisseurs.

She did tell us that to get a good harvest, we’d need to keep pruning the bush regularly. So, we took our tiny plant home and nurtured it with care. About three years later, it began to flower — delicate, jasmine-like blooms. Soon after, little green berries appeared, slowly ripening into red. We didn’t touch the first harvest, letting the bush establish itself. But we did sneak a few berries — sweet and slightly intoxicating if you had more than three! The birds and squirrels loved it!!

The different phases of the coffee plant. The last two pictures show the flowering and the fruit, all captured from my own backyard, once upon a time in Bangalore.

By the third round of flowering and fruiting, we had a decent harvest from this one little bush. That’s when we decided to try making our own coffee. YouTube became our guru.

We picked the berries, dried them, peeled them, dried them again in the oven, peeled off the remaining layers, roasted them in a pan, and finally ground them into a fine powder. It was laborious and painstaking — all that effort for just half a bottle! But it was totally worth it — the coffee actually tasted good. A quick Google search later, we discovered that we had been growing Arabica beans all along — who knew?

The journey: picking, washing, drying, peeling, drying again, roasting, peeling (yep, again), roasting one more time, and finally grinding as seen above!

Here's a quick coffee fact sheet we learned:

Arabica and Robusta – Arabica beans are smooth and sweeter, often with fruity or floral notes. Robusta beans have a bold and nutty flavour and higher caffeine content. Arabica beans are generally oval-shaped with a wavy central line, while Robusta beans are rounder with a straight central line.

Armed with this newfound knowledge, we began flaunting the story — but sparingly shared the actual coffee, saving it only for a few special people, since we had just half a bottle. During one such conversation at a coffee shop in Malleswaram, an elderly gentleman overheard us and joined in. After some friendly chatting, he said, “You’re actually growing Single Estate Coffee.” He said it with such reverence that we were momentarily in awe. It gave us our own little Zen moment — realizing the quiet joy and wonder of what we’d stumbled upon.

The finally out put!!

That little coffee bush is still in Bangalore, likely to be replaced by concrete soon. I quietly thank it for the joy it brought us.

Meanwhile, coffee has become a steady part of our Sunday routine here in Goa. The original batch is long gone, yet we still use the same bottle — now filled with Haleberry coffee from Chikmagalur — for our Sunday brews. Every time we take it out, it brings back those cherished memories of a tiny sapling, a spark of curiosity, and the joy of figuring it all out together. In Hindi, we call ourselves 'pagals' — and rightly so.

Now I want to try tea on my balcony !!