Tastes of Africa in Mason Jars at B. Koffie

Bad news: Now closed. For the longest time, lovers of single-origin high-end culinary coffee in the upper Hell's Kitchen neighborhood have had to travel downtown for beans. Even this place is a bit far from the West 50s.

Now comes B. Koffie.

The new shop drew a fair amount of attention when it opened earlier this year as the first place to offer a disposable a French-press-to-go cup.

I went to see that and try it out, but I was more interested in the selection of single-origin beans, all imported from Africa.

The beans are sold in Mason jars, the ones made by the Ball Corp., the type that my parents used to use for canning preserves, sauces and pickles.

If you return the jar for a refill, you get a discount, the barista told me. Coffee Rwanda Rwabisindu

Purchased May 16 at B. Koffie, 370 West 51st St., between 8th and 9th Avenue, closer to 9th.

Description According to the hand-lettered chalkboard (pictured): "Chocolate tones, jasmine, fruit and nuts."

In the Cup: This was a smooth, rich and delicious coffee, prepared as an espresso and an Americano at home. It seemed fresh, though I don't know the roaster or roasting date, or the precise origin, presumably a cooperative associated with the Rwabisindu washing station. I was in a hurry on my visit, so I forgot to ask about those details, and they were not posted.

[Update: I was told on a later visit that the beans were imported and roasted by the Philadelphia-based La Columbe Torrefaction, which also has its own shop in SoHo.]

The little shop on West 51st Street is easy to miss on the south side of the street. When I visited, there was no sign out front, the overhang said something about an electronics shop, and I almost walked by. Inside, there are no seats, but the decor is pleasing, and the staff was patient and helpful.

According to the shop's Web site, B. Koffie was created by Tanya Hira and her partner Roberto Passon. The Xpress lid is a clever gimmick, a disposable contraption designed by Jeff Baccetti of Smartcup.

The barista put the ground coffee in the bottom and poured in the piping hot water. I waited four minutes and then pushed the plunger down until it clicked.

This results in a considerably fresher cup of coffee than something that has been sitting around the shop.

And I mean it about the piping hot part -- I walked several blocks before the cup was cool enough to drink.

I think I still prefer the precision that a skilled barista can get from a Clover, and I generally don't mind the wait. When I go back, I think I'll try an espresso pulled from the shop's FAEMA E61 espresso maker, which seems to be a fetish object for some coffee geeks.

But the real reason to visit B. Koffie is the coffee, of course. And now that the Mason jar is empty, it's time to take a stroll over for a refill. (Update: I did just that and also gave the French press cup another try, with a smooth and smoky Ethiopian Yergacheffe that satisfied].

From the Coopac Cooperative in Rwanda

A sign of a good coffee, I think, is that you can drink a full cup readily without any added dairy, soy or other coolants and flavorings. Most of the time I drink espresso, which generally works as a concentrated shot to the stomach and central nervous system, but on a crazy snowy day -- we've had a lot of them in New York lately -- I like to linger over over a regular mug made with the refurbished Jura, which is still going strong nearly two years later. Coffee Coopac Cooperative, Gisenyi Region, Rwanda

Roasted: Feb. 3 by Café Grumpy in Brooklyn.

Purchased Feb. 7 at Grumpy's Chelsea location, 224 W. 20th St., between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

Description The bag says: "Floral aroma leads to notes of pineapple, vanilla, and red currants. Sweet key-lime brightness to the finish."

In the Cup I picked this up on Super Bowl Sunday after spending some time soaking and sweating out toxins at Spa Castle in Queens (great place for grownups and kids). I would normally have been put off by the complicated description, but I had tried a few cups of this in the shop. The fact that I'm running out of it after just a week speaks to its appeal.

"This coffee is grown on the volcanic mountain slopes in the Western Province of Rwanda and comes to us from the Coopac Cooperative. Washed Bourbon varietal," the Grumpy site says (this is one of the small chain's own roasts). There's more detail at the cooperative's Web site.

The crema on top is particularly foamy, and whatever there might be of pineapple, currants and key lime is subtle. Sure, you can smell that if you stick your nose in the mug, but on the tongue you don't pick up much in the way of fruitiness. Even the hint of vanilla did not seem particularly pronounced. This was a rich, delicious, substantial cup from start to finish. It still appears to be on the menu at Grumpy, so if you're wondering what to try, go for it -- and leave out the milk.

2 Shots and a Cup of Indian Mysore

I've decided to expand the sources of beans for my haphazard and probably misguided search for the perfect cup of home-brewed coffee. The other day I stopped by the relatively new Chelsea branch of Joe, the Art of Coffee, a small chain that started in the West Village, routinely turns up on best-of lists, and is sometimes credited with being one of the first movers in New York City's belated culinary coffee renaissance. Joe offers a pleasant store experience, cuppings and classes (arranged in a curriculum with semesters), podcasts and other signs that say, coffee geeks welcome. All of Joe's coffee comes from its partner, Barrington Coffee Roasting Co. I had dropped my daughter off at school nearby, and was in a bit of a rush to get back on the subway and to the office. (I live further uptown in the Starbucks wasteland.) I was about to buy a bag of espresso beans, but then "Indian Mysore" caught my eye. I know it's just a region's name, but the name seemed so unappealing for a food product that -- using reverse logic -- I thought it had to be good.

Name: Indian Mysore Origin: The branded Joe's bag is no help here, but Barrington's Web site says it comes from the Kalledevarapura Estate in Chickmagalur in the Baba Budan Giris area of India's Mysore region. Roasted: The date is not listed on the vacuum-sealed bag, but Barrington is based in Lee, Ma., and moves a lot of beans through Joe. Purchased: Jan. 21 at Joe, the Art of Coffee, 405 West 23rd St., Chelsea. Description: There's nothing on the bag, but Barrington says this is a "super smooth, heavy bodied coffee, bold and exotic with a nut-like aroma." The Pour: That description sounds like it ought to be right up my alley. But I recoiled from the first shot I tasted. It was smooth, but not super-smooth. It was sort of dusty and bitter. I certainly caught the nut flavor, but there was also an aftertaste that struck me as more unpleasant than bold. Exotic, yes. Too exotic. My first thought was, I guess I should have bought Joe's espresso blend, since I've tried that in the store and enjoyed it, and many local reviewers praise it. I prepared to write the first fully bad review in this series. Other beans have not appealed to my personal taste, but I recognized they were of good quality. This was the first I considered pitching out.

But I should probably confess that I started the morning with a last shot of this coffee from Nyakizu Cooperative in Rwanda, which has a distinctive currant-cider-spice flavor. I did clean my palate with some water but maybe the collision of flavors was still too much. It also occurred to me that maybe this was just not a good bean for espresso. I made a regular cup of coffee, tasted it, drowned it in some soy milk, tasted it again. This was not really an improvement. So I went online and noodled around for a while, did some more research. Here is what Barrington says about the Kalledevarapura Estate Indian Mysore:

This coffee is brought to us by the Herculean efforts of Dr. Joseph John, a first generation East Indian who has devoted his energy to sourcing and importing specialty coffees from India to the United States. We regard the Mysore Nuggets as consistently the highest quality specialty coffee produced in India. Grown in Northern Mysore, the specific region where this coffee is grown is called Baba Budan Giris. The name of the region comes from the legendary Baba Budan who brought coffee from Arabia to India circa 1600 A.D. When people think of India, they typically think of tea. This notion needs to be reconsidered. India has consistently been among the top 10 commercial coffee producers in the world and is on the horizon as a budding producer of specialty coffees. The Kalledevarapura Estate is a prime example.

So, now I felt bad for the Herculean efforts of the great pioneer Dr. Joseph John. I also recalled the lesson of the Peet's Aged Sumatra, which grew on me over the course of a week in L.A.

I made another shot. And here is where my fickle palate did a reversal of sorts. There was still a dustiness and an aftertaste, but this second shot was much easier to take. Not great, but better. I allowed that perhaps this particular bag of beans had been on the shelf too long, or that I waited too long to open the bag and try them. Still, it was acceptable enough the second time around that I'll give it a few more chances. I doubt it will ever make a list of my favorites or that I'll buy it again.

An update: The next day, my first shot was nuttier than I recalled on Sunday, with a only a hint of the flavors that put me off yesterday -- not sure what I meant by dustiness, though. There's also a light sour finish of sorts. But that and a second shot were perfectly acceptable. I suppose I should go take a class at Joe the Art of Coffee to learn the language to convey this stuff. For the time being, I just need to know I probably won't be getting this bean again.

On the next trip downtown, I'll either pick up Joe's Barrington Gold Espresso Blend that people rave about or do some research into some of the other offerings, including other single-source coffees.

Recommendations?