I walked into Lucid Lounge around 8pm on a Wednesday to try a new coffee just imported to Seattle. In fact, Lucid is the only place that sells this coffee in town. It is $12.99 for a cup and $75 per 3.5 OZ bag. Why? Because it’s very rare. How rare? Well, that’s the shitty part. Literally.

“The stomach acids and enzymatic action involved in this unique fermentation process produces the beans…” reads the information card displayed on the bar top. Something called a Luwak eats the coffee cherries (I’d never heard of them either) and digests them and defecates the chemically alteredbeans.

“The beans themselves are still covered in a shell when they come out,” assures salesman Timothy Tandiokusuma, who is standing behind the bar. “Do you like your coffee mild or bold?”

I’m here having kept a promise to friend and owner of Lucid, David Pierre-Louis. I am here to try this coffee. “Bold,” I tell Timothy, who immediately measures out five ounces of water from a piping teakettle into a French press. “We have to let it sit for 2 minutes.” Timothy checks his watch. I look around Lucid, at the portraits on the walls, at the purple drum kit on stage, unoccupied tonight.

After two minutes, Timothy pours me an espresso. I look around at the others at the bar. I nod to no one and sip the espresso.

It’s fine—better than I thought, I suppose. The taste is smooth (I know, it’s almost impossible not to make a joke). It’s not nearly as bitter as an average shot and there is a great deal of novelty to the experience. It doesn’t need sugar or cream, which I usually add to my coffee.

I would go to Lucid to have another—but I certainly can’t afford to go more than once or twice. And as I sip the coffee, I wonder how sustainable the process is for the animal, itself. For its sake I hope it doesn’t get overly popular.

And now, for the question: What do I think about having drunk coffee that came from, essentially, the shit of the Luwak? I guess it’s not that big a deal.