When you reach for your morning coffee, do you ever stop to think about what variety of coffee you're drinking? Most of us don't. We see "coffee" and think we know what we're getting. But here's the truth: calling all coffee just "coffee" is like calling every apple simply "an apple"—technically correct, but missing the entire story.

The Seven-Coffee Experiment That Changed Everything

Recently, I embarked on an experiment that completely transformed how I think about coffee. I purchased seven different coffee varietals from the same farm—yes, the same farm, same soil, similar growing conditions—and tasted them side by side. What I discovered was nothing short of revelatory.

The journey started with Javanika, a variety I'd never encountered before. It presented itself as a classic Central American profile: chocolatey, slightly nutty, with very low acidity. Comfortable. Familiar. The kind of coffee that doesn't challenge you but welcomes you in like an old friend.

Then came the Yellow Caturra, and suddenly everything changed.

This coffee opened up entirely. It was fruity, lively, vibrant—the kind of coffee that makes you sit up and take notice. Same farm. Different varietal. Completely different experience. That's when the lightbulb went off: varietals aren't just technical coffee jargon. They're the key to understanding why your coffee tastes the way it does.

From Catamaran to Gesha: A Spectrum of Flavor

Continuing through the experiment, each varietal revealed its own personality. The Lorena offered vibrant fruit notes with a distinctive aftertaste that lingered pleasantly. The Pacamara brought juiciness and just enough acidity to remind you it was there without overwhelming the palate.

Then there was the Gesha—what many consider the holy grail of coffee varietals. The moment I opened the bag, florals hit me immediately. The cup itself delivered on that promise: floral, fruit-forward, with acidity that enhanced rather than detracted. It was complex in a way that invited contemplation rather than just consumption.

Seven coffees. Seven completely different experiences. All from the same origin point.

The Apple Analogy: Moving Beyond Surface-Level Understanding

Let's simplify this with something we all understand: apples. When you think of an apple, you probably just think "apple." But there's a world of difference between a tart Granny Smith, a sweet Fuji, a crisp Gala, or a mild Red Delicious. They're all apples at their core, but the experience of eating each one is distinct.

Coffee works the same way. At its core, yes, it all tastes like coffee. But when you start peeling back the layers—when you engage with what you're drinking rather than just consuming it—you discover a spectrum of flavors, textures, and experiences that transform your daily ritual into something far more meaningful.

Breaking Free from the Coffee Rut

Here's where many of us find ourselves: we pick our favorite brewing device (maybe a V60, maybe a French press), we use the same recipe every day, we drink our coffee, rinse, and repeat. There's absolutely nothing wrong with this routine. You don't need to become a coffee sommelier to enjoy your morning cup.

But what if you're leaving so much on the table?

The beauty of exploring coffee varietals isn't about becoming pretentious or overly technical. It's about enriching an experience you're already having every single day. It's about understanding why you prefer certain coffees over others. It's about developing a vocabulary for your preferences that goes beyond "I like this" or "I don't like that."

What Varietals Actually Tell You

When you understand varietals, you start to decode the coffee in your cup. That chocolatey, nutty flavor profile? That might be characteristic of certain traditional varieties. The bright, fruity notes that some coffees display? That could be the varietal expressing itself, especially if it's something like a Yellow Caturra or a Gesha.

But here's where it gets even more interesting: the same varietal grown in different regions, in different soils, at different altitudes, will express itself differently. A Yellow Caturra from Colombia might taste noticeably different from a Yellow Caturra from Kenya. The variety provides the foundation, but terroir—that combination of soil, climate, and processing—adds the nuance.

The Journey Matters More Than the Destination

One of the most important lessons from this experiment wasn't just about taste—it was about approach. We can so easily fall into patterns where we stop questioning, stop exploring, stop learning. We think we know what we like, and we stick to it religiously.

But coffee, like life, rewards curiosity. Each new varietal is an invitation to understand something more deeply. It's an opportunity to challenge your assumptions about what coffee can be. It's permission to grow beyond what you thought you knew.

This doesn't mean you need to constantly chase exotic, expensive coffees. It means approaching even your everyday cup with a bit more awareness. Ask your barista what varietal they're serving. Read the bag when you buy coffee. Notice the differences between your Monday coffee and your Friday coffee.

Practical Steps for Your Own Varietal Journey

Ready to start exploring? Here's how to begin:

Start with one farm: Like my experiment, try to find different varietals from the same farm or region. This removes many variables and lets you focus specifically on how the varietal influences flavor.

Keep your brewing consistent: Use the same brewing method, same ratio, same water temperature. You want the varietal to be the variable, not your technique.

Take notes: You don't need fancy cupping forms. Just jot down what you notice. Is it fruity? Chocolatey? Bright? Heavy? Your personal observations matter more than "correct" tasting notes.

Compare similar varietals from different origins: Once you're familiar with a varietal, try it from different countries. How does Ethiopian Heirloom compare to Panamanian Gesha? How does Colombian Caturra differ from Costa Rican Caturra?

Don't rush: This isn't a race. Spend time with each coffee. Brew it multiple ways. Drink it at different temperatures. Let it reveal itself to you.

Beyond the Basics: Soil, Processing, and Complexity

As you dive deeper into varietals, you'll start noticing other factors at play. The soil composition affects mineral uptake, which influences flavor. The altitude determines how slowly the coffee cherry develops, which impacts complexity. The processing method—washed, natural, honey—dramatically changes how the varietal's characteristics present themselves.

A washed Yellow Caturra will taste cleaner and brighter than a naturally processed one, which might be funkier and fruit-forward. Same variety, completely different expression. This is where coffee becomes endlessly fascinating—it's never just one thing. It's a combination of variety, place, process, and skill.

The Bigger Picture: Why This Matters

You might be wondering: why go through all this trouble? Why not just drink coffee and enjoy it without overanalyzing?

Fair question. And the answer is: you absolutely can. But understanding varietals enhances enjoyment rather than diminishing it. It's the difference between listening to music and hearing music. Both are valid, but one opens up dimensions the other misses.

When you understand what you're tasting and why you're tasting it, you develop preferences based on knowledge rather than habit. You can communicate what you like to baristas and roasters. You can make better purchasing decisions. You can appreciate the skill and care that goes into producing specialty coffee.

Most importantly, you transform a daily habit into a daily practice of awareness and appreciation.

Moving Forward: Expanding Your Coffee Mind

The coffee world is vast, far vaster than most of us realize. There are hundreds of coffee varietals, each with its own characteristics, each expressing itself differently based on where and how it's grown. Some, like Gesha, have become legendary. Others, like the Javanika I started with, remain relatively obscure.

But each one has a story to tell. Each one offers a different window into what coffee can be. And each one is an invitation to go deeper, to understand more, to appreciate the complexity that exists in something we often take for granted.

The journey I embarked on with these seven coffees is just beginning. I plan to roast them at different levels—light, medium, dark—to see how the varietals express themselves under different conditions. I want to taste the same varietals from different origins. I want to understand not just what I'm drinking, but why it tastes the way it does.

This is the journey I'm inviting you to join. Not because you have to, but because it enriches something you're already doing. It takes coffee from background noise to foreground experience. It transforms routine into ritual.

The Takeaway

Coffee isn't just coffee any more than an apple is just an apple. Varietals matter. They're the foundation upon which all the other variables—terroir, processing, roasting, brewing—build their effects. Understanding them doesn't make coffee complicated; it makes it more interesting.

So the next time you brew your morning coffee, take a moment. Look at the bag. Notice the varietal. Pay attention to what you're tasting. Ask yourself: what makes this coffee distinct? What am I experiencing that I might have missed yesterday?

You might be surprised at what you discover when you stop treating coffee as just "coffee" and start treating it as the complex, fascinating thing it actually is. The journey is worth taking, one cup at a time.

Oke at Everyday Beans explores the world of coffee through experimentation, education, and genuine curiosity. Because the best coffee journey isn't about reaching some destination—it's about staying curious along the way.