The highest grade of coffee in Vietnam is made from beans that have been passed through a weasel. The beans are fed whole to the weasel, collected on the other end, and roasted. Although I’m not certain on this point, I assume the beans are not husked before they are fed to the weasel. That is, the part of the bean you use for making coffee never actually comes in contact with the interior of the rodent. I don’t know how you convice a weasel to eat a whole coffee bean.
The morning after the dog dinner, I was feeling rough from all the sugary rice wine. I went off in search of a cup of weasel coffee.
The cafe I selected didn’t have a printed menu, and I had left my guidebook at home, so I made the hand gesture indicating “weasel.” For good measure, I made another hand gesture indicating “unhusked coffee beans passing through a weasel.” Finally, I loudly said the word “weasel” several times in a row.
The waitress brought me a cup of particularly muddy and fragrant coffee. On first sip, there was nothing exceptional about the coffee other than its deliciousness. I took another sip and swirled it around, testing for mink-y notes or ferret-y overtones. I detected perhaps the faintest tanginess, but otherwise it was just a good (and expensive) cup a coffee.
I was slightly disappointed. If the coffee had proved to be truly unique and remarkable, I could have carried through on my plan to market an entire line of specialty foods that have been passed through weasels. Vermont maple weasel syrup. Weasel prosciutto. Hand-crafted micro-weasel beer. That sort of thing. Would’ve been huge.
