The mysteries of "third wave" coffee — so called because the movement considers itself being to Starbucks what Starbucks was to Folger's — are unavoidable to anyone seeking good coffee today. To me, as to almost everyone else, the endless talk about plantations, elevation, variety, roasting, and importation, along with the priestly reverence for baristas and the solemn piety of outfits like Stumptown and Intelligentsia and Blue Bottle, is baffling to the point of inciting outright hostility. But, keeping an open mind, I met up with my friend Teresa von Fuchs, the resident coffee ambassador at Irving Farm, one of New York's leading third-wave coffee companies, in an effort to bring a measure of clarity to this situation.

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Von Fuchs, I come to you as a skeptic. I think this whole third-wave thing is overblown. I like the coffee, but it has now developed into a self-congratulatory subculture, like alt music or riot grill or something.

There's always going to be a thing so specialized that only real nerds get into it. It seems elitist, but really it's just nerdiness. Anyone who is genuinely interested in it, we accept as one of our own.

"One of our own." Exactly. There's the mentality. Here's the thing, von Fuchs: We're at the Irving Farm on 79th Street, surrounded by Upper West Side moms and writer types. In other words, it's like any other café. I don't feel third-wave coffee is entitled to specialdom at this point. I mean, there are so many of these places now.

Really?

Well, think about it. Irving Farm...

How many four-star restaurants are there?

Very few.

And how many three-star restaurants are there?

Just a few.

[Shrugs.]

Okay, I see what you are saying. It's not a big number compared with the total amount of coffee shops. Plus, New York is not representative — we probably have more third-wave coffee places than anyplace this side of Seattle or the Bay Area.

Right.

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Theresa Von Fuchs

But here's the other thing. They all say they have a special-origin bean, and intimate relations with a plantation in East Africa or whatever. But there's no real way to tell. How do I know that Irving Farm does the true coffee diplomacy? Why should I believe any of the other places? How do I know that they are actually dealing directly with Kenyan plantations or whatever?

There are always signs and signifiers. One is size: If you are a giant company, you are looking for enormous amounts of beans — and the small, specialty, top-of-the-line stuff is rare. You have to ask questions. And you can't just go by the stock phrases that so often appear around coffee. Because a lot of buzzwords are so overused that they don't mean anything anymore.

Like what?

For example: "shade grown," "fair trade," "direct trade."

Yeah, what does, say, "direct trade" even mean?

"Direct trade" means different things to different people. That's kind of why it's kind of BS sometimes.

Like "free range" with chickens. So how do you know it's not BS?

You don't. You have to ask the right questions. Ask the people who are selling it: When was this roasted? Who are your suppliers? What does "fair trade" even mean? If they can't give you a good answer to that last one, it's a pretty safe bet they aren't using it.

But let's say they do say the right things. How do you know they aren't lying?

My grandmother gave me strong advice: Life is hard; people will lie to you.

Word. Let's move on to another fetish of third-wave coffee. It's the ubiquitous image of this 130-year-old African guy with a giant bag of coffee on his back.

Sometimes that image is true. That's why the coffee costs a lot. Someone like you goes, "Eighteen dollars a pound! WTF?" The price reflects not just the quality, but also how much work is required. You don't realize, looking at that bag, just how much care has gone into it. The grower has to quadruple-pick his coffee crop — by hand, because the beans don't all ripen at the same time. Then you have to process every defect out, things you can't even see sometimes. There's more to it than just this cup. You know?

I understand. You don't get an Hermès product at a T.J. Maxx price. But here's another problem I have with third-wave coffee: If I want a coffee, it has to be this whole awkward social experience. All the baristas are either hot alternative girls in their mid-twenties with tattoos, or boys who are chic-scruffy aesthetes who display this earnest concern for your well being that verges on condescension — that is, if they don't hate you outright.

There are a fair number of coffee shops in New York. You just complained about it. So go to the shop that suits you. Don't go to the shop where there are assholes because you think it has the best coffee. Go somewhere where they are nice to you and have great coffee.

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