This week Brussels entered its second heatwave in a fortnight. 35 degrees on Wednesday, 37 in places. Meteorologists are blunt about it: the summer of 2026 could go down in history as one of the hottest ever recorded. And us? We're still there. Out in the open air, with Golden smoking under the Anderlecht sun.
Coffee roasted in a heatwave is not a metaphor. It's what's left when you have no air-conditioned workshop, no storage held at 18 degrees, nothing between you and the sky. Just scorching metal, jute sacks and a thermometer that refuses to drop.
Big roasteries flee the summer. We stay in it.
Any serious roaster will tell you the same thing: a winter profile won't hold in summer. Use it unchanged and you get overdeveloped, flat coffee. Their fix is a laboratory — climate-controlled storage, humidity held between 60 and 65%, temperature between 15 and 25 degrees. Managed air, at the push of a button.
We don't have that laboratory. Our green beans rest in the jute, at the market, at 35 degrees. And that's exactly where the part begins that nobody else can write: for us, the heatwave isn't a problem to solve. It's the co-author of the lot.
Coffee roasted in a heatwave: everything accelerates
When the air is dry and blazing — continental, cutting air — the bean gives up fast. Its moisture escapes earlier. First crack arrives in a hurry, almost impatient. And the window between "perfect" and "too far" narrows to a handful of seconds. Golden has no time left to think. He has to be read in the eyes, the smoke, the smell. One hesitation, and the sky has already written a different recipe than the one you wanted.
It's the exact opposite of a rainy day. Dryness prunes, sharpens, accelerates — where rain deepens and weighs things down.
Dry air writes sharp aromas
A lot roasted at 37 degrees has a line a damp November morning will never give you. Dry air erases the roundness. What remains are clear, almost sharp notes — bright citrus, sometimes a vivid acidity that cuts. Nothing soft, nothing sleepy. This is extreme summer coffee, and it will resemble nothing we roast in October. If you love those high, floral, cutting notes, this is where a bean like our Café de Ethiopie truly sings.
Far from the market, in the Cerrado, it's the same story wearing another face: drought, heat, an arabica price never seen before. The very elements narrowing our roasting window here are narrowing the harvests over there. Coffee has become, more than ever, a mirror of the sky.
The gesture, under open sky
Roasting outdoors means accepting that nothing repeats. That's the whole idea behind Meteo Koffie — read our story to understand why the weather is our co-author, not our obstacle. Every lot carries the signature of one precise day, one precise sky, that will not come back.
Where to find us
We roast only on Saturday and Sunday, in the open air, at the Marché de l'Abattoir, exit of the Manufakture parking, in Anderlecht. The heatwave lots are small and unrepeatable — this weekend's sky won't return. Those who know, know: meteokoffie.com.
Brut. Sauvage. Imprévisible.
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