Our Story

Kahwa Home started the way most good things do — out of frustration. We were tired of buying coffee that had sat on a shelf for months, tasting flat and tired by the time it reached the cup. So we bought a small drum roaster, set it up a few streets from the market in Jerusalem, and started roasting for ourselves, our neighbours, and anyone who asked.

The word kahwa is the Arabic word for coffee, and it carries more than a drink with it. It means the pot on the stove when guests arrive, the cup pressed into your hands before you've even sat down, the reason people linger in a doorway for another ten minutes. That hospitality is the whole idea behind the shop. We wanted to bottle the feeling of being handed a good cup at someone's home — and post it to your door.

Roasted to order, never to warehouse

Everything we sell is roasted in small batches after you order it, not before. A bag that leaves us has usually been roasted within a few days, which is why it arrives smelling like the roastery instead of like a supermarket aisle. We roast on a traditional drum, we cup every batch before it ships, and if a roast doesn't taste the way it should, it doesn't go out. That slows us down. We think it's worth it.

Where the beans come from

We buy green coffee from growers and importers we can actually name — washed Ethiopians with bright, tea-like acidity; nutty, chocolatey naturals from Brazil; balanced Central Americans that make an easy everyday cup. We rotate single origins with the harvest seasons and keep two house blends running year-round for the people who just want their morning to be good and don't want to think about it.

More than beans

Good coffee needs good tools, so we grew the shop to carry the rest of the ritual — Nespresso-compatible capsules for busy mornings, moka pots and pour-over kits, grinders, kettles, and the cups worth drinking from. Everything on the site is something we'd happily use on our own counter.

Still small, on purpose

We're not trying to become the biggest roaster in the country. We'd rather stay small enough to know what's in every bag, answer the phone ourselves, and remember the regulars' orders. If you're ever near the roastery on Ha-Histadrut Street, knock — the kettle's usually on. Until then, we'll keep roasting and sending it your way.

— Ahmed Muhjed, Head Roaster