Espresso at 2,000 Meters: A Coffee Snob's Diary in San Juan del Río

i've been traveling through central mexico for three weeks, and i thought i'd seen every variation of bad coffee until i landed in san juan del río. i'm not a snob because i want to be; i'm a snob because i've tasted the divine and i can't un-taste it. the first morning here, i walked into what looked like a promising caf near the plaza mayor and asked for an espresso. the barista handed me a cup of hot, bitter water with a suspicious crema that disappeared before i could say 'tamp'. i took one sip and set it down, trying not to gag. the guy looked offended. 'it's from veracruz,' he said, as if that explained everything. veracruz beans can be great if roasted right, but this was roasted like it was a punishment.

outside, the sky was overcast, and the temperature sat around 18.16 degrees celsius, which sounds warm until you factor in the wind chill that made it feel like 17.05. humidity was 39%, low enough that my skin didn't feel sticky, but the altitude - around 2000 meters - meant the air was thin and crisp, like a fresh apple that's been in the fridge too long. i checked the pressure on my phone: sea level pressure 1016 hpa, ground level 794 hpa. that's a drop of 222 hpa, which is huge; at this elevation water boils at about 92 degrees celsius, ruining any hopes of a proper pour-over without a thermometer. i think i'm going altitude-sick from bad coffee, not the elevation.

here's the exact spot i'm typing from - a hostel with a view of the parroquia de san juan bautista:

i'm sitting in the hostel common area, which is a converted colonial courtyard with peeling paint and a few sad-looking plants. the wifi is spotty, but that's okay; it forces me to go out and explore. i've got my aeropress in my backpack, a hand grinder, and a bag of beans from a micro-roaster in oaxaca that i've been nursing for weeks. maybe i'll make my own coffee later. but right now, i'm on a mission to find something drinkable in town.

i asked the hostel owner, a gringo expat named mike who's been here five years, 'where do the locals go for a proper espresso?' he shrugged and said, 'there's a place called café utopía that does a decent latte art.' i raised an eyebrow. latte art doesn't equal quality, but i'm desperate. i followed his directions down a cobblestone street lined with colorfully painted buildings, the kind of picturesque that makes you forget the underlying poverty. at café utopía, the barista was a young woman with tattoos and a septum ring. she pulled a shot that looked promising - thick, tiger-striped crema - but the taste was flat, lacking the acidity and sweetness i crave. i asked about the bean origin. 'it's a mix,' she said, 'from chiapas and maybe somewhere else.' i subtlely suggested they might want to source single-origin. she rolled her eyes. okay, not my scene.

later, at the mercado, i overheard a vendor telling a tourist: 'don't drink the coffee at the plaza, it's made from recycled beans - they reuse the grounds.' i laughed, but part of me wondered if that was a joke or a warning. i've heard of places reusing coffee grounds for compost, but drinking them? that's just vile.

for a list of cafés that are at least clean, you can check tripadvisor's roundup - Top 10 Coffee Spots in San Juan del Río. i'm not endorsing everything there, but it's a start. yelp's local ratings are skewed because most reviewers are tourists who think 'strong' means 'good.' still, here's the Yelp Coffee Directory. the best intel comes from the community board at SJDR Guía - it's a wiki run by locals and expats. they have a map of every espresso machine in town, including the ones hidden in bakeries that don't advertise coffee.

i'm a bit of a snob, i know. but it's not just about the coffee; it's about the ritual. the sound of the burr grinder, the aroma of freshly ground beans, the precise pour of water at 92-94°c (if the altitude didn't screw up the boiling point). it's a meditation. here, i've had to adjust. i bought a cheap kettle at a local shop, but it doesn't have temperature control. i've been watching the bubbles - that old trick - but it's imprecise. my brews are inconsistent. still, i'm making do.

i decided to explore beyond the city center. i took a bus to a nearby town, tequisquiapan, known for its thermal springs and wine routes. i found a tiny café called café de la tierra that roasts their own beans. the barista, a guy named carlos, let me taste a pour-over of a geisha from panama. it was exquisite - notes of jasmine and bergamot, a silky body, balanced acidity. i almost cried. i asked about water temperature; they use a thermometer and adjust for altitude. i felt validated. carlos told me they source beans through a direct trade program, and they even host cuppings on weekends. i signed up for the next one. maybe there's hope for coffee in this region after all.

after i'm back in san juan del río, i'm trying to spread the gospel. i convinced the hostel to buy a better grinder, and they agreed to let me run a weekly coffee club. last night, we did an aeropress competition in the courtyard. three travelers participated, using beans from oaxaca, veracruz, and a mysterious bag i brought from guatemala. the guatemalan won - naturally. the judges were drunk on mezcal, so that might have influenced things.

if you're ever in san juan del río, bring your own beans or be prepared to hunt. the coffee scene is nascent, but there's a hunger for better. i've seen a couple of new shops pop up, each promising 'artisanal' this and 'specialty' that. most are just cash grabs, but a few are genuine. i'll keep sniffing them out.

the weather here has been playing games. one minute it's sunny and 18, the next a cold front blows through and it drops to 14. the humidity swings between 30 and 50%. i've learned to layer my hoodie and always have a scarf - not for fashion, but for the thin air. my throat gets dry, and water tastes better with a squeeze of lime. a local told me that's how the old miners drank water. i'm probably drinking the same water they used to wash gold. whatever, it's wet.

oh, and the neighbors: if you get bored, mexico city is just a two-hour drive away, and querétaro's only forty minutes by bus. both have thriving coffee scenes that put this town to shame. but sometimes, you need the contrast to appreciate the little victories. i found a place that uses a mahlkönig grinder and a la marzocco machine - sure, the barista didn't know how to dose, but the equipment alone gave me hope.

i'll end this rant with some images. first, the latte art at café utopía (which, despite the flat taste, was pretty):

second, the colonial streets of san juan del río, where every corner feels like a postcard:

and third, just because i can't resist, a close-up of my own aeropress brew from this morning - the crema wasn't there, but the flavors were decent:

until next time, keep your burrs sharp and your beans fresh.

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