how to make decaf in a french press like an absolute snob
so, you’re curious about decaf french press coffee, but you don’t want to make just any cup of decaf. no, no—you want to brew it like a a bespectacled brewery-town barista. the kind of person who rolls their eyes at basic drip coffee and scoffs at the plastic waste of k-cups (ew). you want your decaf to scream informed without compromising that rich, full-bodied flavor, even if it has (omg) no caffeine. buckle up, we’re about to walk through making decaf in a french press that’s so gourmet, your situationship will feel intimidated.
step 1: start with the best beans (ours)
you cannot under any circumstances use sad, stale decaf that’s been sitting in the pantry since last summer. to make decaf coffee worthy of your french press, you need to start with high-quality, freshly roasted beans. we’re talking single-origin decaf beans, preferably sourced from a small-batch roaster who has named every one of their coffee plants (or paid someone else to do it) (yea, we delegate). go for our decaf or low caffeine options—no chemicals here, just pure. if you don’t know the exact altitude and growing region of the beans, know that we figured it out for you.
step 2: grind it like candy shop is playing (iykyk)
no one with self-respect would ever be caught using pre-ground beans, especially not in a french press. a burr grinder is ideal but, honestly, a blade grinder will get you most of the way there. set it to a coarse grind, because the french press demands respect, and only coarsely ground coffee will give you that perfectly balanced extraction. this grind should look like chunky sea salt—not table salt, not sand, but something you’d sprinkle on an ethically sourced truffle.
step 3: filter your water (maybe) and watch the temp (definitely)
some people on the internet swear by filtered water. but we’re too lazy for this step. it’s fine to use tap! filter it if you must be an overacheiver. then, heat the water to just below boiling but not actually boiling— around 200°F. seriously, eyeball it. take the kettle off right before the water starts that angry boiling sound, you’re golden.
step 4: the french press moment
add your coarse ground decaf coffee to the french press. the ratio? use the coffee snob standard of 1:15—that’s one gram of coffee to 15 grams of water. ok but if you’re a normal person using a legit table spoon and guessing, start with 2 heaping tablespoons per 8ish ounces. test it out to find ot how you want it to taste. pour the water slowly, in small, circular motions, because this isn’t a race—meditate or something. let the coffee "bloom" for 30 seconds, smell it like nothing else in the world matters at that moment because nothing does.
step 5: the four-minute rule
set a timer for four minutes—no more, no less. this is not the time for multitasking. after the four minutes are up, take a deep breath and slowly, deliberately, press the plunger down. there should be some resistance. If it’s too easy, your grind was too fine, and you’re about to drink something that tastes like mud (there’s always tomorrow).
step 6: pour and savor (fancy or nostalgic mugs only)
you hoenstly can’t just pour your beautifully crafted decaf french press coffee into your slightly stained daily mug from an ikea 6-cup set. find the beauutiful heath ceramics mug you spent too much money on or your gluvein mug you brought back from copenhagen in 2019.
step 7: confidently enjoy
take that first sip and let it wash over you— you learned a new skill, baby! note the complexity, the richness, the subtle notes of chocolate or stone fruit like a gd sommelier. does it taste like decaf? no, it tastes like you’ve ascended to a higher plane of coffee snobbery— which actually includes everyone, even you.
