From Red to Green: How One Roaster Is Helping Russia Transition Into Specialty Coffee
By Mark Inman

As the Russian-made Ilyushin IL-96 aircraft gently touched down on the tarmac, I was startled awake from a vodka-induced sleep by the sound of passengers clapping, a curious habit of Russian travelers, which I assumed was a show of appreciation for surviving another flight. After nearly 16 hours of flying in some of the most cramped, shoddy airplanes I’ve ever seen, I touched down in Novosibirsk, the hub of western Siberia and the beginning of my coffee story.

Considering all of the world’s noteworthy coffee cultures, Siberia is probably fairly remote in most people’s minds. But in fact, Russia boasts quite a coffee history, and the country is currently experiencing a kind of coffee renaissance. Russia’s romance with coffee began in the era of Peter the Great, who strangely enough, ordered all men to drink coffee while shaving, a ritual that that has endured through the years. Centuries later, an American businessman named Jerry Rudister opened Russia’s first real coffeehouse in 1996, naming it simply, Coffee Bean. In Coffee Bean, Russian consumers were introduced to an assortment of Arabica varieties, as well as properly prepared espresso, a far cry from the pressed instant espresso “pellets” and soluble coffee that were common in Russian coffee bars throughout the 80s and early 90s.

Today, a growing number of entrepreneurs like Rudister are helping Russia’s coffee industry flourish by opening more and more independent coffeehouses and roasting operations— which is what brought me to Novosibirsk. Last fall, I traveled to this remote post-industrial city to help my friend, Christopher Tara-Browne, put the final touches on his five-year dream: to be the first Russian coffee chain to roast Certified-Organic, Fair Trade coffee and offer it not only in his chain of cafés, but in restaurants, markets and businesses throughout Siberia. Christopher has been building on the idea of organic and Fair Trade coffees since 1997, when he built his first Novosibirsk Traveler’s coffee café inside a popular pizza chain called New York Pizza.

I first met Christopher and his wife, Svetlana, in 1996 when they were scouring America’s West Coast for the perfect espresso while researching their own specialty coffee concept. They were nearing the end of their journey and were sufficiently underwhelmed by the quality of American coffee. Christopher was hoping to transport the concept of Seattle-style coffee to Russia, a market that was hungry for anything trendy. Chains like New York Pizza, St. Patrick’s Irish Pubs, and Zhili Byli (translation: “once upon a time”) were already hugely popular in Siberia, making millionaires out of the entrepreneurs who sparked them.

After a series of meetings with Christopher and Svetlana, I hoped to send them home with an idea almost exactly opposite of what they were looking for—a concept that would transcend trendiness and instead impart permanence. The idea was to create a chain of coffee bars that celebrated an artisan product grown by the hands of hard-working coffee farmers. A celebration of craftsmanship would make his coffee chain truly unique, not a carbon copy of contrived café culture in the Pacific Northwest that was already being replicated in Moscow and St. Petersburg. I emphasized the history of coffee and the global culture around coffee cultivation, and I stressed the importance of creating an experience that would be much more visceral than the staid, cookie-cutter coffee chain culture that has swept the U.S.

Since that first meeting in 1996, Christopher returned to Siberia to build a coffee chain based on this concept. He survived the country’s financial crisis in 1998, when the ruble tumbled from 6 to 28 to the dollar, and the loss of his main financial backer, and he was able to establish a successful business in Novosibirsk. Traveler’s Coffee is now well known for offering a distinctive coffee experience unmatched by other coffeehouses in Siberia. Press pots are used instead of the usual drip brewers, Christopher’s entire staff flawlessly crafts latte art, and a tireless push to educate customers about the beauty of single-origin coffee is beginning to take hold.

Until recently, Christopher had been importing roasted Certified-Organic and Fair Trade coffee from Taylor Maid Farms. Taylor Maid was contracted to form relationships with the coffee farms featured in Traveler’s stores and to supply consumer educational materials, such as images, stories, facts, and figures about growers, farms and growing regions. Traveler’s customers embraced the opportunity to learn about the people and lives behind their cups of coffee. What is life like for a farmer in Huehuetenango or Jinotega? What makes coffee in Chanchamayo different from coffee from Villa Rica? How is the political climate in East Timor affecting the area’s coffee farmers? Once Traveler’s customers understood more about the world of coffee, a bond was formed. They feel personally connected to the people who produce their favorite coffees, and in times of crisis like today, they know how farmers and families are being affected. They understand that their purchases make a difference.

After years of cultivating these relationships, Christopher and I realized it was time for the intermediary to step out. Taylor Maid was impeding the completeness of Traveler’s Coffee’s own mission to establish a more direct connection between his company and coffee producers and consumers. Christopher wanted to roast his own coffee and supply it to other retailers in Russia, but he wasn’t sure what steps he needed to take. I offered to help, and we began to work on the basics of developing and operating a roasting facility. Once a blueprint was created, I agreed to teach Christopher and future Roastmaster, Aziz Narzikulov, how to sample roast, cup, blend, and roast coffee on a production level.

But learning how to run a roasting operation would prove much easier than selling his coffee to other businesses. Traveler’s had successfully established a loyal following of retail customers, but for other businesses offering coffee, the concept of purchasing from an American company and selling single-origin coffee went against every trend in Russia. Most Russians are proud to offer blended coffee direct from Italy, shipping mostly by airfreight to preserve freshness. Many café owners consider Italians to be unrivaled coffee roasters, given their illustrious coffee history. After all, Italians know espresso; Americans know McDonalds. The espresso machine came from Italy, not America. Italy boasts the Institute of Coffee Roasting, not even heard of among America’s finest culinary institutions. And most Russians firmly believe that Americans are incapable of buying good coffee—that they are primarily in the business of cutting margins by mixing Arabicas with lower-quality beans.

Luckily, Christopher never paid heed to these misconceptions. He firmly believed that the U.S. was on the cutting edge of the specialty coffee movement, and that U.S.-based coffee businesses created the momentum and market for certified-organic and shade-grown coffees. In his eyes, America took the concept of specialty coffee from the Europeans and turned it into something that was more than just a hot beverage—it became tangible, alive, and impacted the lives of billions of people. He also knew that once he and his staff became proficient at the art of roasting, businesses could not possibly turn up their noses at the freshness of coffee roasted 10 miles away rather than 10,000 miles away.

Traveler’s coffee began hosting a series of gatherings, inviting the media, consumers and owners of nearby cafés and restaurants to sell them on the concept of purchasing organic and fair-trade coffee roasted in Russia. Besides Traveler’s, the only roaster in Russia was Montana Coffee of Moscow. Otherwise, most retailers offered coffees from Italian companies like Ionia, Torra, Illy, and Lavazza. But with the opening of Christopher’s new roasting plant, businesses would have the choice of purchasing coffee from Italy at $35/kg or fresh-roasted coffee at $21/kg. With only one other competitor a couple thousand miles away, Christopher knew he could convince local businesses to give his coffee a chance.

Still, Christopher also knew he would also have to sell the concept of fair-trade and organic coffee to Russian buyers, and he understood the importance of not becoming too evangelical about these issues. For Russians, the idea of organic and fair-trade coffee is still very new. They do not have a long history of questioning their country’s methods of agricultural production, use of GMOs, repercussions of chemical farming, or ethics of trade. So the most effective way to present concepts of organic and fair-trade coffee to the average Russian citizen was to draw a comparison to a dacha, with which nearly every Russian has a direct or indirect connection.

A dacha is a summer cottage on a piece of land in the countryside. During the Socialist period, plots of land were given to families to provide the opportunity to garden (organic by default) and grow food for the winter months. Dachas were not only sources of additional income; they were also places for recreation during the short summer season. They were places to relax, connect with the land, farm, and gather mushrooms and berries. Much of the food produced on this land was canned for the winter, when produce was scarce. Then, as summers winded down, families returned to the cities with their bounty until the following season.

But as communism fell and capitalism flourished, the affluent abandoned their dachas, opting for the ease of purchasing fresh produce in markets, while the ever-growing poor population fell back on the dacha as a vital source of income. Today, city streets are littered with elderly Russians offering fresh produce, jams, and preserves to survive.

Comparing a campesino growing organic coffee to people growing potatoes on a dacha is one of the few ways to effectively connect Russian consumers to organic and fair-trade coffee. Many Russians don’t understand the downside of factory farming or the long-term impacts of agrochemicals, but they can relate to the plight of the “Old Russians” struggling to make a living by selling products grown on their dachas.

During my recent visit, Christopher held a community gathering to educate consumers about his coffees. Among the skeptics was an older gentleman, a professor of agriculture at the local university, who stood up and asked, “Why should Russians care about a farmer’s plight thousands of miles away? After all, Russians struggle too, and if one could get coffee, or any type of goods for that matter, at a very cheap price, then more power to him.”

His question was honest and accurate, and there is no simple answer. I tried to explain that his steaming cappuccino represented more than just another hot beverage. That Russians have far more in common with countries like Nicaragua, El Salvador, East Timor, and Burundi than they might realize. “When you are a part of a global community, borders and distance become meaningless,” I answered. “You should be proud in your support of a small struggling farmer in the hills of Jinotega. One day that farmer may be proud of supporting you and your business, because Nicaraguans purchase machinery, tools and many other goods from Russia. Buy into a faceless, uncaring consuming model and you will find yourself without an ally when you are in need of help.”

Will Christopher Tara-Browne become known as the pied piper of the organic and Fair Trade coffee movement in Russia? Will the idea of conscious consumerism ever gain a foothold in this dynamic country? It’s hard to say. For now, Russia is in the midst of a buying frenzy, desperately trying to catch up to the rest of the world with all the new and dazzling products now available to them with little care as to the long-term repercussions of their buying habits. But as I boarded a plane back to the U.S., Christopher’s face revealed an obvious sense of panic because the reality is that he now has a new roasting plant to run and more prospective customers than he knows how to handle.

Mark Inman is co-founder of Taylor Maid Farms, a certified-organic herb farm and coffee roastery in Sebastopol, California. He is also the founder of ORCA, the Organic Coffee Association of America, and a board member of the SCAA.