PORTLAND – Alan Spear, owner of Coffee By Design, dipped his spoon into a hot cup of coffee.

“I usually take about this much,” he said, “put it up to my lips, and“

SSSSCHLURRRRP.

The noise coming from his mouth as he inhaled the spoonful of joe was loud and startling, kind of like those “Yup!” noises people make when they bid on things at auctions.

“Then you roll it around on your tongue,” Spear said, somehow managing to maintain his dignity while talking like the kid in “A Christmas Story” whose tongue got stuck to a frozen flagpole.

Spear was demonstrating his coffee-cupping prowess for employees at Coffee By Design on a cold, rainy October afternoon. I was invited to participate, eager to perfect my schlurping technique and learn how the professionals use “cupping” to evaluate the aroma, flavor, acidity and balance of coffees from around the world.

Now that Coffee By Design is offering some cupping sessions for the public in February in honor of Specialty Coffee Month, I thought I’d share my experience around the cupping table to give you an idea of what it’s all about.

Professional coffee buyers use cuppings mostly to help them decide which coffees they want to purchase, but they will also do cuppings for quality control and to educate their staffs.

Our cupping session began with Dylan Hardman, Coffee By Design’s head roaster, placing four sets of cups containing coffee grounds around our lazy-susan style table. Two of the four coffees came from different regions. The other two came from the same region, but were processed differently.

Hardman then poured steaming water over the coffee grounds in each cup. When the water is added, a foamy layer called the crust forms on top, and most of the grounds sink to the bottom.

“What I’m going to do is fill these cups up roughly two thirds of the way,” Hardman explained, “and then what we do is break the crust, and that’s going to release the aroma of the coffees.”

Spear performed the first break to show everyone how it’s done. He broke the foam with the backside of his spoon, then began moving the spoon back and forth to release the aroma. “Some people smell the grounds,” he said. “I don’t do that.”

Next comes the fun part: Schlurping. (And yes, I know that’s not a real word, but that’s what it sounds like.)

The coffee experts in the room encouraged us to ignore the “pretentious vernacular” of wine tasting and simply say the first thing that came to our minds when we tasted the coffee. Spear says cuppings are more like craft beer tastings than wine tastings – fun and informal.

Don’t be afraid. If it tastes like dirt, say so.

Yet there are still rules. Cupping-room etiquette involves paying attention to things like how loudly you clink your spoon on the side of the cup. Kind of funny, considering everyone in the room is making strange noises with their mouths and there’s a lot of spitting going on.

Yes, it’s embarrassing to even bring it up in polite company, but there’s no other way to say it. One of the important decisions you have to make when you’re cupping is: Spit or swallow?

There are spittoons in the room for dispatching your mouthful of coffee when you’re done tasting. If that’s too gross for you, they will give you an individual cup. I used the spittoon and just pretended I was a cowgirl in an Old West saloon until I got used to it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. My first schlurp was not very successful. You might say I am schlurp-challenged.

Spear said the idea of schlurping loudly is that it carries the coffee over your tongue to the back of your throat so you get a more complete flavor profile. Well, my schlurp was pitiful – it’s a lot harder to do than it sounds – and when the coffee flew to the back of my throat, I swallowed involuntarily.

After a few tries, I got the hang of it and started spitting. My schlurping noise, though, didn’t improve much. I envied Spear’s and Hardman’s ability to schlurp so confidently and make such a hearty sound.

Spitting was nasty, but you get used to it after a few mouthfuls. The thing I could not get used to was dipping my spoon into water (to clean your spoon in between tastes) and into coffee that other people – total strangers – had been dipping their spoons into. Cupping may be cool, but it’s definitely not sanitary.

The coffees we tried were all very different. The first one I tasted had a woodsy, smoky flavor that I really liked. The second coffee seemed a little flat to me. Another one was fruity and bright.

The identities of the coffees were kept hidden from us. Professionals who do this all the time don’t need any labels.

“There’s some people that can cup it and tell you what it is, and even what elevation it’s grown at,” Spear said.

After we’d all had the chance to taste each coffee multiple times, Hardman and Spear asked us what we thought of each one. I was a little confused. I wished the samples had been numbered, because it was hard to keep track of what I liked and didn’t like with the table constantly spinning in front of me.

Hardman then did the reveal, explaining as he uncovered each coffee’s identity lots of details about where and how it was grown. The first one was from Papua New Guinea, and it’s one of Hardman’s favorites. The second coffee was a Costa Rican La Manita, and the third an Ethiopian Harrar Longberry. The fourth coffee was an organic Ethiopian Yirgacheffe Oromia.

Ask a professional roaster to rank these coffees based on reputation, Hardman said, and he’d probably put the La Manita first.

That made me feel good, because the La Manita was my favorite.

Next, Hardman said, would come the Yirgacheffe – the one I thought tasted flat. So much for my discerning palate. That one would be followed by the Papua New Guinea (which I liked) and then the Harrar. Personally, I liked the earthy flavor of the Harrar, and probably would rank it second or third and move the Yirgacheffe to last place.

But that’s just me.

What I learned from my cupping experience is that coffee, like wine and movies and food and sex, is a somewhat subjective experience. You like what you like.

As for the schlurping, I wasn’t really that bad for a beginner.

But I’m definitely keeping my day job.

Staff Writer Meredith Goad can be contacted at 791-6332 or at:

mgoad@pressherald.com

Twitter: MeredithGoad