For many people, the word strong is still the compliment coffee must earn. If it is dark, hot and bitter enough to wake you immediately, the job is done. Everything else can sound like unnecessary complication of something we drank perfectly well before anyone started talking about notes of peach.
Bitterness is a normal part of coffee's flavour. The problem comes when it becomes the only flavour we expect from it. Coffee is a chemically and sensorially complex drink, and sweetness, acidity, bitterness, aroma and texture can appear in the cup in very different proportions. Good coffee does not need to eliminate bitterness; it needs to find it the right place.
Part of the confusion starts with the word strong. It can mean at least three different things: that a drink has an intense flavour, that it contains a high concentration of dissolved solids, or that it contains a lot of caffeine. Those things are not the same. Espresso can have a very intense flavour, while the total caffeine in a single serving does not simply follow our subjective sense of "strength".
Bitterness is not just caffeine, either. Reviews of the chemistry and sensory quality of coffee show that caffeine contributes to bitterness, but so do other compounds in the bean and substances that form or transform during roasting. Chlorogenic acids and their breakdown products, trigonelline, and a whole range of reactions during roasting all participate in what we ultimately taste.
So the idea that "more bitter" automatically means "more caffeine" is a poor shortcut. Like many shortcuts in food, it sounds logical until you look at what is actually happening in the product.
Roasting is one of the great moments in that story. Green coffee neither smells nor tastes like the coffee we know. Heat sets off a chain of chemical reactions that create aroma, colour and most of the flavour. Roasters are not therefore "cooking the bean until it turns brown"; the roast profile is a set of decisions about which characteristics to amplify and which to lose.
Very dark roasting can bring intense, smoky and bitter notes that easily dominate the cup. Lighter roasting often leaves more room for the character of the bean itself — its acidity, its fruity, floral or other aromas. That does not mean lighter is automatically better, nor that dark roasting is a mistake. It means only that roasting has a flavour, and that flavour should not be confused with a universal measure of quality.
Then comes preparation, where even an excellent bean can quickly become a poor coffee. Grind size, coffee-to-water ratio, temperature, time and pressure in the case of espresso all affect extraction. If we extract too much from the coffee, or in an uneven way, the result can be unpleasantly bitter, dry or hollow. If we extract too little, it can taste sharp, sour and unfinished.
This is why a barista adjusting the grind by a fraction of a step is not performing a ritual to look serious. Coffee changes with temperature and humidity, the bean ages, the equipment heats up, and the recipe that worked yesterday need not produce the same cup today. A well-dialled espresso is an attempt to find the balance between all those variables once more.
Balance is perhaps the best word for what we are looking for. Acidity is not a fault to be eliminated, just as bitterness is not proof of strength. Sweetness in coffee does not mean that sugar has been added. When these qualities are in good proportion, coffee can be complex without being exhausting.
This becomes especially clear when someone tries for the first time an espresso that differs significantly from what they are used to. The reaction is sometimes not "this is better" but "this does not taste like coffee at all". That is entirely legitimate. Taste is not an exam, and years of habit do not disappear because someone wrote a farm name and an altitude on the bag.
Specialty coffee culture sometimes forgets that simple fact. If someone's experience of coffee has always meant dark, full and bitter, a fruitier espresso can feel strange. The goal should not be to explain that they love coffee in the wrong way, but to show them that more than one taste is possible.
At VERA we therefore do not try to declare bitterness an enemy. We try to ensure that the coffee is balanced and that the bean has the opportunity to show its character. Sometimes the cup will carry more chocolate and nutty tones; sometimes more fruitiness and acidity. The point is not that every coffee should taste the same — quite the opposite.
And if someone takes it with milk, that does not cancel out the quality of the coffee. Milk changes the perception of bitterness, acidity, sweetness and texture, which is why the same espresso base can function quite differently in a cappuccino than when drunk alone. A good recipe is therefore not a matter of ideology but of intention: what do we want this coffee to be in this cup?
Perhaps we grew so accustomed to bitterness because it was the loudest characteristic of the coffee we drank. Loud, however, is not the same as good. A lemon is not better for being more sour, wine is not better for having more alcohol, and chocolate is not higher quality because it is bitter enough to make your face change.
Coffee does not have to prove its seriousness by punishing us.
It can be sweet without sugar, lively without unpleasant acidity, and bitter just enough for us to know we are drinking coffee. When all of that meets in the same cup, the question of whether it is "strong enough" suddenly becomes much less interesting.
Try it at VERA — specialty café and wellness bistro, Nikole Spasića 4, Stari Grad, Belgrade.
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