Can’t Taste Coffee’s Flavours? So What?

And yet, coffee can sometimes make you question everything: the flavour notes printed on the bag – how am I supposed to taste them? And when I spot that colourful flavour wheel on the café wall, I start to wonder if I simply have a wooden tongue.

As a self-described amateur coffee enthusiast studying at the University of Gastronomic Sciences, I have experienced every one of those delights and frustrations.

I. The “Science” of the Flavour Wheel

I don’t deny that the SCA flavour wheel has a rigorous, scientific side to it: it was compiled by sensory analysts from the United States and Europe after tasting hundreds of coffees over the course of a year. But the reference foods used on the SCA flavour wheel are largely consumed only in Europe and North America, and are far from universal.

“Maple syrup, raspberry, blueberry…” As my European and American classmates rattled off a dizzying array of flavours, I felt a knot of embarrassment – I couldn’t follow the flavour wheel’s “guidance” to clearly articulate what I was tasting, especially when it came to foods I hardly ever eat.

Moreover, the SCA trains tasters to describe coffee flavours using precise, professional vocabulary. Rather than simply recognising the foods on the SCA flavour wheel, you are recognising the identifiable, reproducible “standard aromas” that the wheel defines.

Take “blueberry” as an example: what does it taste like? The SCA’s flavour lexicon describes it thus: “the taste of a low-sugar canned blueberry from Oregon, USA”. Ironically, I asked several American classmates who don’t live in Oregon – not one of them had ever tried that particular canned product, nor seen it in any supermarket.

If American students struggle, how are people from other countries supposed to identify the “standard blueberry flavour”? On the Chinese-language podcast coffeeplus, Gu Niangniang – the chief sensory judge at the World Coffee Roasting Championship – shared her method: steep dried blueberries in water, microwave them for two minutes, and the aroma that emerges is the standard blueberry flavour.

This reminded me of a honey-tasting session in class, when I failed completely to detect the “intense lychee fragrance” in a particular honey. After a European classmate nudged me, I tasted it again with more care: ah, this must be what canned lychee tastes like.

Having lived most of my life in Lingnan, I have virtually no memory of canned lychee. How could I explain to my classmates the ancient observation: “On the first day the lychee’s colour fades; by the second its fragrance fades; by the third its taste fades; and after four or five days, colour, fragrance and flavour have all departed”?

“Trying to train my senses with this flavour wheel is like learning a whole other language!” I complained to my tutor.

The SCA flavour wheel may appear to offer coffee professionals and enthusiasts a reliable, scientific method, but taste preferences are subjective. However, when a certain flavour is officially labelled a “negative flavour”, coffee tasting stops being a matter of personal preference.

Mainstream coffee sensory trainers and tasters frequently describe citrus acidity as a “flavour many people enjoy”, while labelling woody notes as “unwanted flavours”.

My Indian classmate Prannavi was puzzled: why are “woody” and “earthy” classified as negative flavours on the SCA flavour wheel? In India, many people appreciate exactly those notes.

Nashira, a classmate from Indonesia, felt the same injustice: “Indonesian coffee is largely processed using the wet-hulling method (Giling Basah), so it typically leaves an impression of herbal and earthy flavours. But I don’t think those are negative – they’re incredibly complex. The blend of earth, spice and wood reminds me of dark chocolate. I find it thrilling and fascinating.”

Eko Purnomowidi, an Indonesian coffee producer and co-founder of the brand Covoya Specialty Coffee, mentioned in an interview: “In Indonesia, many people are accustomed to drinking coffee with earthy, herbal flavours. But Western manufacturers who procure the green beans are predisposed to think those flavours are undesirable, which confuses us and puts tremendous pressure on us.”

Over the past decade or so, erratic rainfall driven by climate change has made the coffee flowering cycle highly unpredictable. This means cherries ripen in batches, and so farmers must also pick in batches. Even a small lapse in farm management can mean harvesting underripe cherries with a raw, vegetal taste – something a professionally trained buyer with sensory expertise will immediately reject.

Overripe cherries, meanwhile, give off a herbal flavour. If cherries fall from the tree and sit on the ground for too long, they may ferment and turn black, introducing earthy flavours into the coffee cupping.

Yet specialty coffee grading is unforgiving: a single fully black cherry among 300 grams of green beans is enough to disqualify the lot from specialty status, and the purchase price will take a steep dive.

Many coffee producers cannot access sensory education and market understanding the way green bean buyers and coffee consumers can, and so are unable to value their own coffee. They can only passively accept the cupping scores handed down by professional buyers, along with the prices they dictate. In most cases, the ones who benefit most are those professional buyers who hold the power to define what makes good coffee.

If coffee-producing countries could reduce the barriers to tasting coffee – rather than having flavour dictated by a flavour wheel or other scoring tools – that would surely be a first step towards treating farmers fairly and honestly, and towards finding a genuine “common language” for coffee tasting.

III. Creating a Local Flavour Wheel

In the video Decolonising Coffee Through Flavour, SCA-certified coffee consultant Ārāmse posed the question: could we discuss more inclusively where certain foods sit on the flavour wheel? And could we consider adding some new flavours?

In India, for example, Jamun (the fruit of the Jambu tree, also known as Indian blackberry) has a complex flavour: when it first hits the palate, there is a rounded acidity, followed by a burst of grape-like sweetness, but soon your tongue turns dry and astringent.

“Like many foods, Jamun offers a richly layered sensory experience. It is just like drinking different coffees – if you truly want to taste with scientific rigour, it is actually very hard to find a specific descriptor on the flavour wheel,” said Ārāmse.

And so they are working with SCA-accredited coffee trainers to develop a flavour wheel tailored to India, drawing on scientific research and flavour analysis.

As he put it, a locally rooted flavour wheel is more practical and more familiar. It will encourage consumers – and even producers – to deepen their understanding of flavour. And if producers can articulate clearly what flavours buyers expect, that means they hold more agency within the industry.

The first time I tried a certain Yunnan coffee, the wet-wood note in the cup made me think it was a flawed brew. But later I tasted another Yunnan coffee – its colour a clear, luminous red, with citrus acidity and the flavour of oolong tea – and it was truly unforgettable.

If more people in China are drinking Yunnan coffee, and a locally developed flavour wheel takes shape, might more drinkers learn to appreciate what Yunnan has to offer?

Just as Ethiopian coffee is celebrated for its florals, and Kenyan coffee for its bright acidity, Yunnan coffee must have its own distinctive terroir – that elusive, tea-like fragrance should be described, shared, and recognised.

IV. “What You Like Is the Best!”

Another of my coffee teachers, Paolo, owns a specialty coffee shop that has been running for more than twenty years. He never uses a flavour wheel, and he remarked sardonically, “That sort of thing is better suited to LAVAZZA (the pioneer of Italian commercial coffee), I’d say.”

Unlike the SCA, which places sole emphasis on the “precision” and “science” of flavour, Paolo believes we should pay closer attention to every stage of coffee’s journey – from the climate and altitude at which it is grown, through fermentation and roasting, to the brewing method and the water used. Change any single element, and the taste shifts in countless directions. We should be more open to that ever-changing cup rather than letting a flavour wheel constrain our experience.

“If you’re interested in coffee, talk to more farmers and great roasters, drink more coffee, come next week for the free cupping – rather than believing all this flavour-wheel nonsense (bullshit)!” Paolo’s advice has been invaluable to a plain, everyday coffee lover like me.

I have started paying more attention to how coffee beans, as an agricultural product, are shaped by climate and economic policy; and to how different waters affect the flavour at the brewing stage – instead of going by the SCA playbook to describe every cup the way it wants me to.

Drink more different kinds of coffee, and describe your own genuine tasting experience with more confidence. If you don’t want to simply replicate someone else’s sensory memory, set aside the flavour wheel’s discipline. As the slogan of MAME, the renowned specialty café in Zurich, puts it: “The best coffee is the one you like.”

Foodthink contributor

Renso

Endlessly curious about foods never tasted before, roaming through Italy with cat May.