Coffee Review and Pour Over Recipe: DAK Roasters- Milky Cake

A Cautionary Tale of Triumph Over Treacherous Beans

Dearest Fellow Adventurers in Caffeination,

I write to you today not from a place of scholarly superiority, but from the humbled trenches of experimental defeat—and, ultimately, hard-won victory. The subject of my trials? DAK Roasters' Milky Cake, a coffee so deceptively innocent in name, yet so diabolically complex in execution that I nearly hurled my Baratza Encore ESP out the laboratory window on no fewer than seven occasions.

(The window remains intact. The ESP, mercifully, does as well. My pride? Less so.)

The Paradox That Nearly Broke Me

You see, this particular bean—processed with all the porosity of a sea sponge soaked in vanilla dreams—presented what I can only describe as the Classic Processed Coffee Paradox™ (I'm trademarking that, by the way). Grind it coarser? The water races through like a caffeinated cheetah, leaving you with thin, underwhelming brew that tastes of missed opportunities. Grind it finer? BITTERNESS. Immediate, unforgiving bitterness, as though the coffee itself is punishing you for your audacity.

I tried everything. Different temperatures (from "lava" to "pleasantly tepid"). Various ratios (1:16, 1:15, 1:14, and one desperate 1:13 that shall not be spoken of). I even attempted a ceremonial stirring technique I learned from a traveling monk—it did not help.

The problem, I eventually discovered (after consulting no fewer than three brewing manuals and one very patient barista who may have been a wizard), was this: when you grind porous beans finer, you create a catastrophic amount of micro-dust—what the professionals call "fines." These microscopic traitors over-extract instantly while the water channels past them like they're not even there, resulting in a cup that is simultaneously bitter AND weak. A feat I didn't think physically possible until I tasted it myself.

The Breakthrough (Or: How I Learned to Stop Grinding and Love the Pour)

After weeks of caffeinated despair, I had an epiphany: What if the grind setting isn't the problem? What if I'm pouring like a barbarian?

(Spoiler: I was.)

The solution, dear readers, was not in the grind—but in the technique. By keeping the grind coarse (to avoid the Bitterness of Doom) but adjusting how I poured, I could create the resistance and extraction time the coffee desperately needed. I call it the "Slow Flow" Technique, and it has saved my sanity. Ironically this was revelation came at the BOTTOM of the bag, so of course I had one beautifully balanced cup before it ran out. 

The Recipe That Finally Worked (So You Don't Have to Suffer As I Did)

I share this with you not out of pride, but out of compassion. No one should endure what I endured. No one should waste seventeen perfectly good mornings on subpar coffee (especially if your like me and can only have one per day). So here, inscribed for posterity, is the method that finally coaxed the vanilla-cake sweetness from these stubborn beans:

Professor Nightshade's Revised Pulse Pour Recipe for DAK Milky Cake
(15g coffee / 225g water | 1:15 ratio)

• Grind Setting: Baratza Encore ESP at 26 (coarse, like breadcrumbs—do not deviate)
• Water Temperature: 194°F (90°C)—hot, but not vengeful

The Pouring Ritual:

0:00 - 0:45 (The Bloom): Pour 45g of water gently over the grounds. Do not stir. I know you want to. Don't. Let the coffee wake up on its own terms.

0:45 - 1:15 (Second Pour): Slowly—and I mean agonizingly slowly—pour up to 135g. Keep your kettle spout as close to the water surface as possible (nearly touching, like you're whispering secrets to the coffee). Pour in tight, gentle circles in the center. This is not the time for aggressive spirals!

1:15 - 1:45 (Final Pour): Pour the remaining water up to 225g, maintaining that same low, gentle approach. You're coaxing, not commanding.

Target Finish Time: 2:20 - 2:40

Why This Sorcery Actually Works

By breaking the pour into pulses rather than one continuous deluge, you're "stacking" the water. Each pour creates weight and pressure that extends contact time without grinding finer. The low pouring height prevents the grounds from fluttering around like caffeinated butterflies, allowing them to settle into a natural filter bed that slows the water down.

The result? Sweet, creamy, vanilla-forward coffee that actually tastes like the "Milky Cake" it promises to be.

(I may have wept a little when I first tasted it. Don't judge me.)

If You're Still Struggling:

If your brew still tastes thin or weak, do not grind finer—I'm begging you. Instead, try a 1:14 ratio (15g coffee to 210g water). This increases the concentration of those glorious vanilla fats and oils without risking the Bitterness Trap.

And if you're curious about the science behind dialing in your grinder, I recommend consulting Baratza's Guide to Dialing In—it's far more patient than I was during this ordeal.

In Conclusion

The DAK Milky Cake is a magnificent coffee—once you crack its stubborn code. It took me far too long, far too many failed attempts, and one near-kettle-related incident to figure it out. But now that I have, I refuse to let you suffer the same fate.

Brew it with patience. Brew it with gentleness. 

A Note on Unusual Beans

If the DAK Milky Cake has stirred your appetite for extraordinary single-origin specimens, the Atelier's own Lunar Station may warrant investigation — a Uganda light roast with its own peculiarities, catalogued for those who prefer their coffee with a backstory.

→ Explore Lunar Station in the Catalogue

May your mornings be sweet, your brews be balanced, and your pour-over technique be ever gentle.

Yours in Caffeinated Triumph,
Professor Eldrin Nightshade
Proprietor & Recovering Pour-Over Perfectionist
The Seventh Atelier

P.S. — If you've had similar struggles with processed coffees, I'd love to hear your tales of woe (and victory) in the comments.