I had just a small amount of the that San Ignacio left (~18g, to be exact) and it is hot as a mutha here right now, so I set out to make a delicate, fully satisfying iced coffee. (Vietnamese stye)
Bolivia San Ignacio as it's brewing, icing
Sweet isn’t quite enough of a word for it. The buttery body (mmm) that was in hot cup, completely turned inward, and became more of a perceived sense than actual flavor - like jabbing your finger in the stick of warm butter sitting on the butcher block, maybe even on a slab of Himalayan pink salt, and putting it in your mouth. Warmth. Oily. Yummy.
Then. And then… that delicate flower of sweetness takes off, floats lightly, and clearly above the cool ice and butter. Like finding lost berries and cream. Clear hints of cherry and super ripe raspberries (just like the amazingly juicy ones Christy just brought home from the Pumpkin Patch on Sauvie Island the other day…) ‘Twas beauty. Total beauty. ‘Nother please… If only I had some more.
I still need to post the roast notes from this batch…
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