Poop Goes the Weasel

Past Inside Scoop contributor Howard Howard Axelrod of Ashland, MA, shares a more obscure discovery from his Inside Vietnam adventure. After explaining the bizarre concept of weasel coffee to his friend Ken, Howard transcribed the exchange—and a healthy dose of coffee-related wisdom—into the amusing account we share here.

By Howard Axelrod, 30-time traveler from Ashland, MA

What is a civet?

"Nice photo, Howie. What is it?"

A civet, Ken.

"A what?"

A civet—better known as a weasel.

"What does it do?"

Well, mostly sleep.

"Just sleep?"

No, Ken, but most of the time it just sleeps.

Folks, I had never heard of or seen a civet until my wife, Nancy, and I visited Vietnam last December. You see, the civet (more specifically, the Asian Palm Civet), is a small mammal weighing between five and ten pounds. It has a body length of approximately 21 inches with a 19-inch tail when fully mature. The Vietnamese are ingenious and have put this little weasel fellow to work, and he is now responsible for one of the world’s rarest coffees, aptly named "weasel coffee."

The Vietnamese learned the coffee growing and processing trade from the French, who ruled the country for six decades. While in most of Southeast Asia tea is the drink of choice, in Vietnam coffee is king! Vietnam is now world’s second-largest producer of coffee behind Brazil, and closing ground fast. The rich soil and perfect growing climate has them poised to take over first place soon. They love their java, as evidenced by all the Starbucks knockoffs (and even a few actual Starbucks) in Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi.

"So tell me more about this weasel, Howie." Well, Ken, he is certainly a cute little fellow, nocturnal, and loves coffee cherry. "What do you mean by ‘cherry’?" As you may not know, the coffee bean is actually the pit of a cherry. The "bean" should be called a "pit," technically speaking. The cherry is shelled, processed, and then roasted. It is a bit more complicated than this, but from farm to table it is basically a three-step process. The little weasel lives in the areas where coffee is grown and has an appetite for the coffee cherry. In fact, he has a remarkably discriminating palate, and only eats the ripest and sweetest cherries, rejecting all others. "Interesting."

But wait—there’s more!
This gets a little messy here folks, but I ask you to keep an open mind. Somewhere along the way, somebody decided to remove the digested beans (we will call them beans from now on) from what exits the weasel at its ‘west end,’ and then process the coffee. Shazam! A new coffee was born. Apparently, the enzymes in the weasel’s stomach ferment the coffee, improving its flavor profile. When all is said and done, the outcome is "weasel coffee." "Howie, are you putting me on?" Ken, honestly, it is true. I saw it with my own eyes.

Coffee beans are not actually beans at all, but the pits of coffee cherries.

At the Me Linh Coffee Garden in Da Lat, Vietnam, many acres of coffee are grown. The Vietnamese prefer the Robusta variety to the milder Arabica that we prefer here in America. It is a stronger and more acidic tasting drink, but very much their cup of tea (coffee, that is). They grow another variety known as Moka, which seems to be right in the middle in terms of bean size and taste. The weasels work indoors, living in an 80-cubic-foot enclosed wooden cage, with a small bowl of ripe coffee beans and a bowl of water. They are tree dwellers in the wild, so high branches mimicking their habitat are part of this captive environment. Everything looked humane and harmless to me. The weasel is basically getting a free home, a free dinner, free health care, and plenty of sleep, in a predator-proof environment. It sleeps 16 to 18 hours and comes down to the tray to feed and drink for a few hours each night. Being a small creature, it can only eat a few beans before it re-engages in its favorite activity: sleeping.

The math and economics of it, a warning, and a happy ending
"Interesting. Tell me more." Sure, Ken. Once each night, the weasel leaves its "calling card" in the box, if you understand what I’m saying. Our guide referred to it as a Mr. Peanut Junior bar, and the description is accurate. For each weasel, only a few beans per day are collected. It is beyond my ability to tell you how many beans are in a pound of coffee, and, at a few beans per day, how long it takes for one weasel to produce enough beans for a one-pound bag. You can give it a shot if you wish, but it doesn’t take a math wizard to realize that this is a long process. The result is that authentic weasel coffee sells for between $150 and $250 per pound, and is sold mostly to tourists with money burning a hole in their pocket, or shipped to Japan and Europe to be sold to the "haves" and "have mores."

Reader, I am a coffee lover, and when I travel, I make it a habit to visit coffee farms and taste the product at its source. I have done this in Central and South America, Asia, Hawaii, and even the Galápagos Islands. At the Me Linh Coffee Garden they allowed us to sample their Arabica, Robusta, and Moka coffees first, and then (they save the best for last), the weasel coffee. Let me be clear here. This is a great cup of java, but at $150 to $250 per pound, it is way above my pay grade, so to speak. By the way, you will find "genuine weasel coffee" for sale all over Vietnam for $12 to 15 per pound. It is on the shelf below $12 Gucci handbags. Of course neither is the real deal—all counterfeit. Caveat emptor—buyer beware!

Anyway, this weasel coffee business is not as easy as it looks. "It looks pretty simple to me Howie. What’s the catch?" Well, weasels are very expensive, as attempts to breed them in captivity have been economically unsuccessful. As such, the little fellows sell for about $1,000 each. "A grand? What if it gets sick and stops eating, or worse?" Well, that certainly skews the cost structure a good bit, and let’s face it: The weasel is not really with the program as far as attempting to put a few more beans through the system. So, very little "throughput" from the weasel, so to speak, and $1,000 per critter is the bottom line. To give you a better perspective, reader, in Hanoi a full lunch—more than you can eat—is between $3 and $5. In the countryside, it is half that. So owning this little weasel fellow is like owning a Bentley!

Can you stomach it? The enzymes from the weasel’s stomach ferment the coffee beans, improving the flavor.

As you might expect, I purchased a pound each of the Robusta, Arabica, and Moka beans, and left without the authentic weasel coffee, making a mental note as we left the coffee farm to purchase a few of those lottery tickets I saw sold on the street near our hotel. One never knows, and I would sure like to bring home that weasel coffee as the ultimate souvenir. "If that ever happened and you brought some home, could I come over and join you when you brew it?" Ken, I would have no intention of brewing it, ever. It would live its life in a display case. "Oh—I understand. I guess I’ll never have any weasel coffee in my life."

Not true, good friend, because this cloud has a silver lining. The Vietnamese are very clever entrepreneurial folks, and have found a way to chemically create that magic enzyme that is in the weasel’s stomach. They use high quality beans, the synthesized weasel enzyme, and the three-step process. The result? Weasel coffee. "Yes, but without the weasel." Exactly! They sell it in every major city in the country. I tried it in both Hanoi and Saigon, and to me it was almost as good as the real McCoy, at a tenth of the price. How about that, folks? A better life through chemistry!

"Still, Howie, I’ll probably never be able to have even the weasel-less weasel coffee in this lifetime." Ken, wake up and smell the coffee. When I left Boston, my carry-on bag weighed 14 pounds. When I returned, it weighed 18 pounds. Yes, there is a souvenir T-shirt or two in there, but guess where the rest of the weight came from? "No way." Wrong again, Kenny.

Try out this unique cup o’ joe on our Inside Vietnam adventure.