SleepBetter.org

Man and his roaster: A love story

Just when Craig Scoville was starting to get the knack of coffee roasting, he got kicked out of the house. Got the bum’s rush, he did, he and his coffee roaster both. His wife said she couldn’t tolerate the pungent, burning smell any longer, and the two of them had to go. Scoville could come back — provided he was alone.

The spurned couple, man and device, set up shop instead in a borrowed office south of Stephenville provided by a friendly lawyer. Scoville put his roaster next to a window, through which the odor could be vented, and nowadays he roasts away there. He’s happy, the missus is happy, and the Hani people of southwestern China are happy. It’s a global win-win-win.

Craig Scoville, his roaster and the fortuitous window

Scoville and his wife lived in China for most of the past decade. In 1999, he was a manager for an area feed company (Texas being a place where many people can be heard to say, “I’m in feed”), but after a church-sponsored visit to China, the Scovilles decided they were overdue for a big life change. He quit his job, they sold the house, they gave their grown children a hug, and in 2000 moved to China to work among the Hani. They arranged for doctors to visit remote villages, created educational programs, and undertook water projects.

The Scovilles returned in 2008, having taken only one year-long break in that time. “We were seeing amazing things happen [there],” Scoville says. But their number of grandchildren had swelled to a half-dozen, “and that raised a pertinent question. At what point do we reinvest in our own lives?”

They wanted the work they’d undertaken in China to continue, however. That required money. After kicking around ideas, Scoville eventually settled on a plan to import coffee, which thrives in the mountains of Southeast Asia, from Hani growers and sell it as a high-end item to persnickety drinkers — with the proceeds being plowed back into the work in China. Thus was Hani Coffee Co. born.

There were two problems with this plan: (1) Scoville didn’t know how to roast beans; and (2) rural Texas isn’t exactly thick with fussy, affluent coffee drinkers who feel the need to be on the cutting edge of java culture.

The first problem solved itself, thanks to the long period of trial-and-error that caused Scoville and his roaster to be banished from the house. He’s gotten the hang of roasting, so much so that spending $7,000 for a new roaster with more capacity seemed like a smart investment. The second problem is knottier. In his eight months of production, he’s sold 300 pounds of coffee, tops. Even at $16 per pound — which would put it close to some of the world’s priciest brewing beans —Scoville still hasn’t even earned back the cost of his shiny new device.

In short, if you’re one of those just-gotta-have-the-right-coffee types, Scoville is the guy to see. Warm, squishy feelings of doing good are included in the price.