Why the Ratio Four Series Two Is What I Use to Test New Coffees

As with anyone For what it’s worth, the morning coffee routine can take on the character of a religion. And like a lot of religions, it often arises as much by accident as by moral conviction. My name is good, old fashioned drip coffee. It’s the first thing I drink before I even think about preparing a shot of espresso.

I’m WIRED’s chief coffee writer, and I’ve become deeply passionate about the many varieties of coffee, from espresso to Aeropress to cold brew. But to me, deep in my soul, “coffee” still means a steaming mug without any adulterants. Fortunately, it is also the coffee sector that has been most transformed by technology in recent years. Drip coffee from the Ratio Four coffee maker (now quietly on its second generation) feels like the purest form of coffee to me, with the liquid distillation of my coffee beans smelling fresh coming out of the grinder.

My love of filter coffee began as a teen when I was traveling and studying in India – probably my first glimpse of adult freedom. It was here that I drank the first full cup of coffee I remember finishing. In Jaipur, filter coffee was an intense, jet-black gravity brew usually mixed with milk and sugar. I decided that if I was going to drink coffee, I would drink it straight and learn to like it on my own terms. A new friend, adding jaggery to his own brew, laughed at my insistence that I didn’t want sweetened milk. Then I drank a cup so thick and strong and caffeinated that my hair stood straight up. If I made a mistake I refused to admit it.

I took this priority back to Oregon, eating all-night dinners and drinking pitch black, horrible drip coffee in dirty office breakrooms. Black coffee had become a morality clause, although it was hardly a matter of taste.

It wasn’t until years later that I discovered that drip coffee could actually be as sophisticated as pinky-up espresso.

drip lift up

To some extent, this was a problem of technology. In addition to the classic Moccamaster, only recently have home drip coffee makers been able to produce truly excellent cups. I haven’t kept one at my house for many years.

A new wave of cafes in Portland woke me up to the possibilities of drip, first third-wave coffee pioneers Stumptown Coffee and then, most notably, Heart Coffee Roasters in Portland. Heart’s Norwegian owner-roaster, Ville Yli-Luoma, explained to me in detail the aromatic purity of light-roast immersion coffee – the fruity aroma of first-crack Ethiopian might smell of peach or nectarine or blueberry. Scandinavians have long appreciated it, he told me, and have developed light-roasted coffee into pure craft. America was finally catching up.

Still, I could never get the same flavor or clarity on a home brewer. Not until recently. To get the best version, I still had to walk across the street to Hart’s and get my coffee from the guy who roasted it. Or I had to spend a very long time spraying water over coffee in a conical filter. I hardly wanted to do this when I couldn’t sleep, it was already late for work.