We Sent Graveyard Roast to a Coffee Professional. Here’s What Happened.
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We talk a lot about specialty coffee around here.
It’s on our website. It’s in our product descriptions. It’s one of the reasons we started Dead Tired Coffee Co. in the first place.
We wanted to sell genuinely good coffee. Fresh roasted. Specialty-grade. Coffee worth looking forward to, even if the reason you’re drinking it is because consciousness has once again been forced upon you.
But eventually, curiosity gets the better of you.
So we sent a bag of Graveyard Roast to someone who professionally evaluates coffee and asked him to put it on the cupping table.
Then we waited to find out what happens when one of our core blends leaves the crypt and gets judged by someone who isn’t emotionally attached to it.
First, What Is Coffee Cupping?
Coffee cupping is a standardized way of evaluating coffee.
Instead of brewing a normal cup, adding whatever you normally add, and drinking it while staring blankly into the middle distance, cupping strips away most of those variables.
The coffee is prepared and tasted in a controlled way so the evaluator can pay attention to the coffee itself.
Aroma. Flavor. Acidity. Body. Sweetness. Balance. Aftertaste. Consistency.
They’re also looking for defects, roast faults, or anything else hiding in the cup that shouldn’t be there.
The point is to get a clearer picture of the coffee without your favorite brewing method, creamer, or desperate need for caffeine influencing the verdict.
For us, that was exactly what we wanted.
An outside opinion.
No attachment to the brand. No reason to tell us what we wanted to hear.
Just Graveyard Roast on the cupping table.
Graveyard Roast Scored an 82.
And yes, we were pretty happy about that.
Graveyard Roast received a final cupping score of 82, confirming its place in the specialty coffee range.
But the score was only part of what came back.
The evaluation described Graveyard Roast as having a heavy and consistent body with low, controlled acidity.
The flavor profile was smoky and dark-chocolate-forward, with caramel and nutty undertones.
Basically, Graveyard Roast showed up exactly as advertised: dark, bold, smooth, and deeply committed to getting you through whatever cursed stretch of existence happens before you’re technically alive.
More importantly, the evaluator found no defects and no roast faults.
There were also no recommended changes to the roast development, structure, or flavor balance.
Graveyard Roast went out into the world, faced professional judgment, and returned to the crypt with its dignity intact.
We’ll take it.
So, What Does an 82 Actually Mean?
Unless you regularly spend your free time reading coffee cupping reports—and we assume at least a few of you have hobbies—coffee scores probably don’t mean much on their own.
On the commonly used 100-point cupping scale, coffees scoring 80 points or higher are considered specialty coffee.
As scores increase, they become progressively more difficult to achieve. The final score reflects the evaluator’s assessment of the coffee’s aroma, flavor, acidity, body, balance, consistency, aftertaste, and overall quality.
Graveyard Roast scoring an 82 independently confirmed its place in the specialty coffee category.
But we were just as interested in everything surrounding the number.
The clean evaluation.
The absence of defects and roast faults.
The consistent body.
The controlled acidity.
And the fact that the evaluator didn’t recommend changing the roast itself.
We sent Graveyard Roast out to be judged.
Apparently, the dead clean up pretty well.
The Professional Evaluation Was Serious.
The Review Was Not.
After the formal evaluation, we also received a full written review of Graveyard Roast.
And this is where things got considerably more Dead Tired.
It began:
“This coffee was not made for mornings. It was made for whatever cursed stretch of existence happens before you’re technically alive.”
We knew immediately we were in good hands.
The review described the first sip as tasting like smoke and dark chocolate, with caramel and nutty notes showing up afterward like:
“a sarcastic little ‘hang in there’ from the universe.”
Which might be the most accurate tasting note we’ve ever received.
The low acidity got its own explanation:
“It doesn’t shock you awake. It resurrects you slowly.”
And the brewing recommendations were equally helpful.
French press was described as:
“dark, thick, and emotionally unavailable.”
Cold brew:
“smooth, quiet, and absolutely plotting something.”
And espresso:
“a straight shot to the chest followed by, ‘You’re welcome.’”
The final verdict?
“This isn’t coffee for people who love mornings. This is coffee for people who endure them.”
Yeah.
He understood the assignment.
Read the full original review on Facebook.
Why We Did This
Dead Tired Coffee Co. has always lived somewhere between genuinely caring about good coffee and refusing to act normal about it.
We can put skeletons on things.
We can make jokes about the void, surviving mornings, and being reluctantly summoned back to the mortal realm.
But underneath all of that, the coffee still has to hold up.
Sending Graveyard Roast out for an independent evaluation gave us a chance to see what happened when one of our core blends was stripped of the branding, the jokes, and everything else surrounding it.
Just the coffee.
The 82-point score confirmed its specialty coffee status.
The evaluation found no defects or roast faults and recommended no changes to the roast development, structure, or flavor balance.
That matters to us.
Because we’re still a small family business building this thing one bag, one customer, and one questionable skeleton meme at a time.
We take the coffee seriously.
We just don’t see any reason we have to take ourselves seriously while doing it.
Coffee for People Who Endure Mornings.
Graveyard Roast is a bold dark roast with a heavy body, low acidity, and notes of dark chocolate, roasted caramel, and toasted nuts.
It’s roasted fresh to order and, like all of our coffee, ships free in the U.S.
For the chronically tired.
For the overworked.
For anyone who has ever stared into the void and thought:
I should probably make coffee first.
