Coffee, kept close to the fire.

Every batch begins green in the palm and ends the colour of oak bark — read by ear, by nose, by the crack of the bean.

We roast on a drum that's older than most of our recipes, in rooms that smell of caramel and cedar smoke by mid-morning. There is no dashboard telling us when to stop. There is a person, a nose, and a fire kept patient. That's the whole method, and it takes years to trust.