History of coffee is good to the last drop

It would be a shame if Mark Pendergrast's history of coffee were relegated to coffee drinkers, much less coffee tables. He makes the history matter even more than the coffee, providing a solid grounding in world events of the past 700 years.

Pendergrast does know coffee: a light roast from a dark, a robusta from an arabica, a cappuccino from a latte, Mr. Chase from Mr. Sanborn. He begins by describing the four basic components of coffee quality (aroma, body, acidity and flavor), and saying "a good cup of coffee can turn the worst day tolerable, provide an all-important moment of contemplation, rekindle a romance."

But as the introduction continues, he makes it clear he is a historian first and foremost.

Poetic as its taste may be, coffee's history has been rife with controversy and politics from the time it was discovered in the 13th century. It was banned as a creator of revolutionary sedition in Arab countries and in Europe. It has been vilified as the worst health destroyer on earth and praised as the boon of mankind.

Coffee lies at the heart of the Mayan Indian's continued subjugation in Guatemala, the democratic tradition in Costa Rica and the taming of the Wild West in the United States. When Idi Amin was killing his Ugandan countrymen, coffee provided virtually all of his foreign exchange, and the Sandinistas launched their revolution by commandeering Somoza's coffee plantations.

The point of Pendergrast's endless coffee trivia is that coffee isn't trivial. "Coffee is the second most valuable exported legal commodity" after oil.

So he takes us to the roots of coffee by beginning in Ethiopia, where coffee was discovered -- the when and where being among the few hard facts that have eluded Pendergrast.

Coffee spread via Arabs to Turkey and on to Europe by the mid-1500s. It took on even greater importance in the New World, being a reason slaves were imported to the Caribbean and the impetus for the Latin American revolutions of the early 19th century.

Country by country, "Uncommon Grounds" charts coffee cultivation and consumption through every era and market fluctuation conceivable, noting movements to curtail coffee as they came and went.

He tells us that the Germans liked coffee too much to suit Frederick the Great, who banned it after saying, "It is disgusting to notice the increase in the quantity of coffee used by my subjects and the like amount of money that goes out of the country in consequence. My people must drink beer."

Eventually the author turns his attention to the United States. By the early 20th century, North Americans accounted for 50% of the world's coffee consumption. U.S. commerce figured prominently in the dickering that led to a 1963 worldwide agreement that set coffee prices and production quotas.

Coffee in the United States was better before the turn of the century than after. General Foods' Maxwell House brand, San Francisco-based Folgers and other huge distributors began using increasingly inferior coffee after World War II. Price consciousness led the big distributors first to buy low-quality Brazilian beans and later the even-more-inferior robustas from central Africa.

The introduction of instant coffee and a 1953 freeze in Brazil led to even worse coffee. For a while it appeared that the Baby Boom generation would never acquire a taste for hot beverages. U.S. consumption began a steady decline, from 3.1 cups per day in 1962 to 2.2 in 1974.

That trend persisted until the gourmet movement that intensified in the 1970s finally took hold in the 1980s, stratifying the arabica vs. robusta factions that divide coffee drinkers today.

The preponderance of bad coffee persists despite the all-arabica gourmet coffee revival led by Starbucks and -- to give the Bay Area's most venerated roaster its due -- Peet's.

Pendergrast dedicates the book to Peet, who entered the coffee industry by working for a company that imported beans for big roasters such as Hills Bros. and Folgers.

"I couldn't understand why in the richest country in the world they were drinking such poor quality coffee," said Alfred Peet, who was laid off at 45 and used his inheritance from his father to open a coffee operation in Berkeley in 1966.