Floral on the nose with tropical fruit notes like lychee that shift depending on brew method, alongside sweetness and citrus reminiscent of pink lemonade. A distinctive red wine character rounds things out, evoking a favorite Pinot Noir. Whole cherry is floated for quality and dried on raised beds at the Bombe Drying Station in high-elevation Bensa.
Bursting with cocktail cherries and purple grapes, this Reposado Natural is round in body and sweet like marzipan, with a decadent intensity reminiscent of black forest cake. The unique process involves multiple stages of controlled fermentation and slow greenhouse drying over 25–30 days, carefully monitored by the Alvarado family at their Corazon de Jesus wet mill. Processing-forward but approachable, it's a premier example of red fruit-driven natural coffee from a Catuai lot grown at 1800 MASL on the El Salitre farm.
A surprisingly balanced and subdued Castillo from Diego Bermudez's Finca El Paraiso, processed using a proprietary 'Red Plum' culture of cascara extract, mucilage, and wine yeast, followed by a thermal shock wash and controlled drying. Despite its intensive fermentation journey, the coffee showcases delicate notes of white grape, peach, and turbinado sugar alongside a playful strawberry candy character. It punches above its weight class for a Castillo, offering a flavor profile more reminiscent of a Gesha.
A crushable white honey with astonishingly clean fruit characteristics like candied orange and dried apricot — so clean it could almost be mistaken for a washed coffee. The sweetness is deep and confectionary, evoking maple and maple almond toffee. Produced by the Moreno family at their Don Eli Wet Mill in Tarrazú, where cherries are pulped, mechanically de-mucilaged, and dried on raised beds for about 12 days.
Super sweet and easy-drinking, this anaerobic washed Pacas from Edgar Erazo's El Filo farm delivers intense sweetness like dark honey, delicate stone fruit reminiscent of apricots, and a subtle acidity that evokes candied oranges. Whole cherries are hand-sorted, floated, and placed in an anaerobic environment before being washed and dried on raised beds. A crowd-pleasing archetype of the storied Santa Barbara region.
When
Huver Castillo spent years teaching math before betting everything on his family's farm in Nariño. That gamble paid off in the most delicious way possible. This Gesha drinks like it costs twice what it does — jasmine-forward and alive with yuzu brightness, the kind of citrus that makes you sit up straighter. Then comes the sweetness: think wildflower honey straight from the jar, thick and unhurried. A whisper of hops keeps things interesting, a little left turn that somehow makes perfect sense. The process is obsessive in the best way — 48 hours of yeast-inoculated anaerobic fermentation, a second round with the mucilage still on, slow-dried on raised beds like it has somewhere to be but refuses to rush. The result is a coffee that tastes earned. Because it was.
This coffee drinks easier than it smells, but nevertheless: it’s not for the faint of heart. Intensely aromatic and wildly flavorful, Guy Fieri would have a first-class ticket to Flavortown after his first sip! Flavor notes range anywhere from sour candy to cherry popsicles, with purple flowers along the way. The sipping experience is reminiscent of hibiscus tea, with those aromas and flavors turned up to eleven.
This uniquely processed coffee brings together the two worlds of naturally processed coffees and washed lots, giving us a lovely flavor profile that is somehow loyal to both. It is delightfully floral, like cherry blossom, and sips a whole lot like peach iced tea. Red fruit still finds its way into the cup, reminding us of fresh red raspberries paired with craft chocolate—but, not in a decidedly funky sort of way. It’s more like the raspberry ganache you might find inside a bon bon.
Sidra is a variety which has always intrigued us because, despite its Ethiopian lineage, it does not present like many other Ethiopian varieties: it’s often more viscous, herbal, and fruited. This particular expression is downright lovely, possessing a slightly spiced quality about it, like spiced pear and tepache. Further cooked fruit characteristics, like grilled peaches, are a delightful addition to this concert of flavor. The body is round and full, and the sweetness has some real depth to it, reminding us of dark honey.
The black cherry process might refer to the appearance of dried coffee fruit, but serendipitously, this coffee boasts cherry for days. Cocktail cherry and port wine lead the acidity of this coffee, while milk chocolate hums quietly in the background. Confectionary sweetness like white icing elevates the cup to transcendent sweetness.
Big round red fruits, super duper sweet, really complex, tropical, really like a fruit cup. Cherry, pear, mango, peach, white sangria, really great acidity that’s so vibrant, which you really don’t expect cuz the nose smells heavy and deep, but it’s both those things together. Starts cherry, gets into tropicals, then finishes like high quality chocolate ganache.
The first thing you’ll notice about this coffee is that it is intensely aromatic, smelling of fresh peaches and warmer weather. It’s got plenty of fruit but none of the funk, reminding us of tropical fruit punch. It’s sweet and creamy, like marshmallow cream, and sips a lot like a peach boba tea—minus the tapioca pearls.
High-grown and meticulously processed, this coffee is a masterclass in the classic Ethiopian flavor profile. It boasts a clean and vibrant acidity, like Meyer lemons, and leaves us swooning over delicate stone fruit notes, like apricot. From white flowers on the nose to the honey-like sweetness that clings to the final sip, this coffee takes a swing at that beloved flavor profile… and hits it straight out of the park.
Pleasantly herbal and surprisingly balanced, this particular co-fermentation experiment showcases coffee variety in a way that few such endeavors often do. It’s aromatic and citrusy, like lemon verbena. Stone fruit, like white peaches, and a sweetness akin to floral honey nod back to the two varieties used in this lot. The whole sipping experience—from aromatics to mouthfeel to flavor—is remarkably similar to green tea… just as Rodrigo intended it.
Caramel cooling on a spoon. Milk chocolate that doesn't ask anything of you. This Huila lot is the kind of coffee that just settles in — smooth, balanced, no sharp edges. Grown and decaffeinated all within Colombia, the Sugarcane EA process keeps things clean and transparent, with none of the flavor-stripping brutality of older decaf methods. Ethyl acetate, derived from sugarcane, does the work gently. What's left in your cup is a medium-dark roast that tastes exactly like it should: rich, easy, and quietly satisfying. Black & White has been dialing in this sourcing relationship for two years, and it shows.
This is the coffee your brain already knows. The one that pulls you back to slow weekend mornings, cold hands wrapped around a warm mug, someone else doing the dishes. Black & White built The Classic as their second-ever release and never took it off the menu — because why would you? Colombia's Las Nubes and Ethiopia's Aricha come together washed and medium-dark roasted into something that tastes like caramel hardening at the bottom of a pan, a chocolate you forgot was in your coat pocket, and just enough dark fruit to remind you this isn't diner swill. It's nostalgic without being lazy. Throw in cream and sugar or don't — it holds up either way.
The firstborn. The OG. The coffee that started it all for Black & White — and honestly, for a lot of people's specialty coffee obsession. The Natural is a rotating blend of naturally processed coffees that changes with the seasons, because good fruit doesn't wait around. Right now it's pulling from China's Black Sheep and Ethiopia's Aricha, which means you're getting the kind of cup that tastes like someone stirred a handful of raspberries and dark cherries into a bar of good chocolate. The acidity keeps it honest — present, but not picking a fight. If you've ever wondered what the fuss about natural process coffees is about, this is your answer.
Some coffees make you pick a side. This one refuses. New School - Dragonfruit is 85% Worka Chelbesa washed Ethiopian — bright, clean, the kind of coffee that made you fall in love with coffee — plus 15% Jairo Arcila co-ferment doing something genuinely weird and wonderful in the corner. That 15% punches well above its weight. Think hibiscus soda poured over cherry cola ice, a chocolate finish that keeps it from floating away entirely, and a strawberry-kiwi thing happening in the middle that's hard to explain but impossible to ignore. It tastes like someone handed a perfectly pressed linen shirt to a person who collects neon signs. It shouldn't work. It absolutely works.
This is where it all started. Literally. Ethiopia is the birthplace of coffee, and Black & White aren't letting you forget it. The Original is their reverent nod to that history — a washed Ethiopian from Aricha grown at altitude, roasted lighter than the rest of their lineup so nothing gets in the way of the cup. And what a cup. Delicate florals, a squeeze of citrus, honey sweetness, and a body that moves like tea — clean, bright, and effortless. It's not trying to impress you. It doesn't need to. Some things are just good because they've always been good.
A dark roast that actually respects you. The Traditional is Black & White's answer to the grocery store standby — same familiar comfort, completely different execution. Think bittersweet chocolate that knows when to stop, a cherry note that lingers like the end of a good syrup, and marzipan rounding it all out with a quiet nuttiness. This is dark roast with its act together. It won't bulldoze you. It'll just make you wonder why you ever settled before.
Tall, dark, and fruity, this anaerobic natural isn’t afraid to take up space in a room. It takes a little while to off-gas, but once it opens up, this coffee really shines with a fruit profile that’s fresher and sweeter than most naturals (think: big blackberry compote vibes) and floral in a delightfully different way, reminding us of hibiscus tea. That quintessentially Kenyan black currant note is alive and well in this cup. The whole sipping experience is chock-full of dark red fruits and jam, reminding us of a California Cab Sav.
By using several lots at very specific percentages, the folks at Unblended hope to balance fermentation impact and complexity with sweetness and approachability. The result is a cup that's both fruity and sweet, like summer strawberries, as well as round and smooth, like craft chocolate. Tropical notes, like mango, hint at some of those lots which underwent more extensive fermentation. Complex but still crowd-pleasing, this blend is a celebration of the excellence that already exists in specialty coffee production in Colombia, and also an enthusiastic high five to the next generation of producers in that region
A quick perusal of our menu ought to confirm our undeniable love for the Gesha variety, and we are delighted to have found such a beautiful, classic example in the forests of Guatemala. This coffee takes quintessential Gesha variety characteristics, pitches them directly over the plate, and
Peaches, floral & honey.
Honeyed Almond, Lemon Custard & Pear.
Pomegranate, botanical/floral, red tea.
Rounded, tamarind, brown sugar, almond butter.
Apricot, persimmon, sweet, tart and dried berries.
Black Cherry, Chocolate & Date.
Citrus, Brown Sugar, Wafer Cookie
Green Apple, Limeade, Orange Blossom
Peach, Jasmine, Honeycomb
Strawberry, Floral Honey, Milk Chocolate
Peach Rings, Melon, Elderflower
Apple Butter, Peach, Nougat
Raspberry, Red Currant, Honey
Tropical Fruit, Peach, Floral
Orange Cream, Apricot, Cardamom Sugar
Drinking Chocolate, Nougat, Purple Fruits
Burundi gets slept on. That's a fact. While everyone's fighting over the same Ethiopian naturals, this washed lot from the village of Yandaro is quietly being the best thing on the shelf. Thousands of smallholder farmers deliver ripe Red Bourbon cherries to Greenco's station in Kayanza, where obsessive processing turns high-altitude fruit into something startlingly clear and sweet. It tastes like dried apricot and clementine zest and persimmon — like someone packed a fruit market into a thermos and handed it to you on a cold morning. Clean. Bright. Complexly simple, if that makes sense. Intelligentsia's own team calls it an unsung hero. We'd call it the coffee you recommend to people who say they don't like coffee, and then watch them reconsider everything.
Some coffees tolerate ice. This one was built for it. Intelligentsia's Cold Coffee Blend is engineered from the ground up for the cold — bright Ethiopian character that snaps into focus the moment it hits the rocks. Think caramel that doesn't go cloying, a citrus edge that keeps things honest, and dried apricot sweetness that lingers like a good memory. Cold brew it low and slow or flash chill it in a hurry — either way, it shows up. This is the bottle in your fridge that's never quite full.
We traveled to Cauca, Colombia to participate in the Auction for Peace, where we secured one of our favorite coffees of the year: this washed Pink Bourbon from Astrid Ipia Peña. Placing 5th out of more than 500 coffees, this limited harvest is flush with tropical fruit sweetness and bright, aromatic stone fruit. Flavor notes: Nectarine, Papaya, Rainier Cherry
Carlos Fernando Cerquera has competed on the world stage judging coffee, and then went home to his three hectares in Bruselas and made something worth judging. This washed Castillo from Finca Ginebra is what happens when obsessive clarity meets a harvest that has no business being this good — mitaca season, the small off-cycle crop, when the trees are tired but apparently still showing off. The cup is bright and surgical: blood orange like someone reduced it down to its most essential self, lychee that drifts in floral and strange, blackberry that keeps it grounded. Clean doesn't mean simple here. It means every note has somewhere to be.
Don't let the modest hillside farm fool you. The López family treats coffee the way obsessives treat anything worth obsessing over — picking only the right cherries, sorting with ruthless patience, processing like there's a trophy on the line. There usually is. La Mina has stacked Cup of Excellence wins the way other farms stack bags of mediocre coffee. What ends up in your cup is Caturra grown at 1900 meters in Nariño, washed clean and bright, tasting like pomegranate juice cut with mandarin zest and a ripe nectarine at peak summer. The acidity snaps. The fruit lingers. This is what a Colombian coffee looks like when someone refuses to phone it in.
Thirteen years of partnership baked into every bag. This is what trust tastes like — Ethiopian fruit dried slow under open sky, picked with the kind of care that only comes from people who actually know each other. Bishan Fugu doesn't need to shout. It's been doing this too long to bother.
Ethiopia doesn't just produce great coffee — it invented the concept. And the Adinew family of METAD might be the country's most obsessive practitioners. They run Africa's first Coffee Quality Institute certified lab, support thousands of smallholder farmers in the Guji highlands, and somehow still make it look effortless. This lot from their Kirite network is grown at altitude so high the air gets thin, and the cup reflects it — razor-clean and quietly electric. Honeysuckle floats up front like something caught on a breeze. Then comes green apple, tart and snappy. Then red currant — that sweet-sharp punch that makes you put the cup down and look at it. Washed and dried on raised beds, nothing hidden, nothing muddled. Just the mountain doing its thing.
Some partnerships start with a handshake. This one started with three women from La Libertad walking into a room and letting their coffee do the talking. It was enough. Intelligentsia hasn't looked back since 2020, and after one sip of this washed lot from Coopesqui member José Fernando López, neither will you. His Finca La Montaña sits in the highlands of Huehuetenango — altitude, volcanic soil, the whole dramatic setup — and it shows. This tastes like a handful of dark fruit grabbed straight off the vine: blackberry that bites back, plum with some weight to it, red grape with just enough brightness to keep things interesting. Clean, structured, and unapologetically itself.
Named after nature's most stubborn sweetness-seeker, Honey Badger doesn't compromise. This seasonal espresso blend pulls together standout lots from Ethiopia, Burundi, and Guatemala into something that punches well above its weight — clementine brightness cracking open over dried cherry and cranberry, the whole thing pooling into a syrupy base that coats the back of your throat like a good thing should. It's tart, it's juicy, it's relentless. Pull it at 18 grams in, 45-47 out, and don't blink.
Eight hundred farmers on volcanic highlands, one washing station, zero shortcuts. The Kangocho Factory puts every cherry through hand sorting, pulping, and a double fermentation that scrubs the cup clean and lets Nyeri's famous terroir do the talking. What you get is bright and structured — grapefruit zest giving way to ripe nectarine, then a deep plum finish that lingers like it has somewhere better to be. SL-28 and SL-34 are the backbone here, the classic Kenyan varieties that built the country's reputation for making other origins feel slightly embarrassed. This is Kenya doing exactly what Kenya does best.
Persephone arrives every year like the season it's named for — sudden, vivid, a little electric. This year's blend pulls from small-scale farmers across East Africa and Latin America, and the result tastes like someone squeezed a pomegranate over a jar of maraschino cherries and finished it with a ribbon of tamarind. Sweet and tart in equal measure, with that particular brightness that makes you sit up straight. Spring in a cup, and not the grey drizzly kind — the kind that actually means it.
Somewhere in the northernmost Peruvian Andes, Dionisio Pintado named his farm after a crystal-clear spring. Drink this and you'll understand why. Agua Cristalina pulls as a espresso that's bright without being aggressive — Rainier cherry up front, a curl of mandarin orange in the middle, and a tamarind finish that lingers like a good secret. The Pintado family picks by hand, processes in small batches, and takes the whole thing seriously in a way you can actually taste. This is fruit-forward without the chaos. Clean, balanced, alive.
The Alarcón Coronel family has been farming these Andean slopes long enough to know exactly what they're doing — and it shows. La Palestina isn't a single farm so much as a family's life's work stitched together across a patchwork of parcels in Cajamarca's misty highlands. What ends up in your cup is warm and a little unexpected: clove spice that feels like a sweater, orange zest that cuts right through it, and butterscotch smoothing everything out on the back end. It's the kind of coffee that tastes like somewhere specific — like a place someone genuinely loves.
This is a moderate intervention fermented natural Pink Bourbon (aka Rosado) cultivar coffee from Huila, Colombia, produced by Juliana Guevara and Wbeimar Lasso on their farm, La Terraza. La Terraza does it again, this time with a macerated natural of their beloved borbon rosado (pink bourbon), from one of the highest plots on Juliana and Weimar’s family farm. Pink Bourbon, once thought to be phenotype of the centuries-old bourbon lineage, now known as a descendent of an Ethiopian landrace, ex
Personal note: This coffee was made by the amazing team at Forest Coffee! I can’t explain the emotions I feel that I have been able to create my own coffee for Inugami Coffee. This is a dream coffee for me and I am so so excited to offer it for purchase. I chose Caturra as the varietal as i love the balance in the cup it is able to achieve. I chose KOJI fermented because, I have always wanted to carry a KOJI coffee but I was unable to due to the cost it before, EL Vergel has perfected a am
Producer Maria Rodriguez spearheads this community-driven coffee. Sidra Prime is the flagship sidra variety offering from an association of neighboring farms called "Nucleo de gestion de Palestina". Long-time Prodigal customers may remember our San Gabriel SL-28 from a couple years ago, another lovely coffee from Maria and Finca Betania. This association of producers works closely with our green coffee vendor, InConexus, on advanced training in processing methods and farm management. This lot
Hacienda Sonora Estate has been in Alberto’s family for more than a Century. In the 1970’s when Alberto took over the farm he began planting the majority of the land with coffee and shortly after it became the main source of income. In 1999, with historical low coffee prices, Alberto invested in a Mill to maximize his quality. He then became a pioneer in alternative processing techniques at the time such as Honey and Naturals At Hacienda Sonora, hand-picked cherries are first dunked in water fo
Roberto Ulloa is driven by an unstoppable passion to produce high quality coffees. His coffee, which scored first place at the 2020 Cup of Excellence, is unparalleled. This Natural lot is sweet and fruity with stone fruit, honey and berries. Coffee is selectively handpicked and processed on Roberto’s farm. Once picked, ripe, red cherry is laid on raised drying beds. Cherry is turned frequently to ensure even drying. It takes approximately 20 to 30 days for cherry to dry. Dried cherry is stored o
Personal Note: This direct trade microlot from Delmer & Joel Banegas features the ubiquitous Catuai variety with a twist - it's natural processed. But if you're thinking "oh look another intense fruity natural", think again! This coffee is warm and grounded with excellent body and an almost velvety texture. The Banegas brothers aren’t like family to the green coffee supplier, they are family! Joel and Delmer’s farm, Finca El Conejo, is one of the few experimental coffee farms in the Comayagua
This is my first Espresso blends under Inugami Coffee. I had many requests for a blended coffee from Inugami and I wanted to do something different. I thought on this for many months. Then a friend told me about a amazing coffee they had at the Coro Roasting’s 10th anniversary party. It was a light and dark roast mixed together. This sounded like something so amazing to me. Luckily that friend was able to send me a bag of that coffee and I was blown away by the amazing balance this created. I ha
Personal note: I found this amazing coffee supplier through searching for the perfect Mexican coffee to be my first single origin Mexico coffee offered! This farm cares about the quality of the coffee and it shows in the final roasted product! I am so grateful to have found Lima coffee and I am looking forward to working with them in the future. Located amidst the fertile volcanic lands of Puebla, Mexico, Tlatlauquitepec (also known as Tlatlauqui), has a rich heritage in coffee cultivation. Si
Personal note: I have searched and searched for this varietal for quite a while and I am really excited to finally offer something Maragogipe! I hope you love this coffee aa much I do. Maragogipe is a natural mutation of Typica, discovered near the Brazilian city of Maragogipe in 1870. The mutation causes the beans, internode spacing and leaves to be especially large and is due to a single dominant gene. Maragogipe is one of the parents of the variety Pacamara. Maragogipe’s potential cup quali
1x Sticker My first sticker design of 2026. Gonna try to make more stickers this year! -Dominick
Big Truck doesn't mess around. This is the coffee that started it all for Olympia — a flagship blend of Colombian and Ethiopian lots that hits like a classic: chocolate, caramel, and just enough berry to keep things interesting. It's the kind of cup that works at 6am, works on the weekend, works in a Kalita or a French press or whatever you've got sitting on the counter. Reliable isn't boring when it's done this well.
Amparo Pajoy has been farming in San Sebastian De La Plata long enough to know exactly what she's doing — and this Good Food Award agrees. It tastes like brown sugar dissolved into warm milk chocolate, with a crisp apple finish that keeps things honest. Nothing overwrought, nothing showy. Just a deeply considered cup from a farmer who treats quality of life and quality of coffee as the same project. This one earned its trophy.
Oliver Stormshak flew to Colombia, processed this himself, and the result tastes like it. The Gutierrez Family grows some of the finest Gesha in Huila — already a ridiculous starting point — and then Oliver sealed it up for 48 hours in an anaerobic dry ferment until something closer to wine than coffee came out the other side. This is not a subtle cup. It's powerful, it's heady, it has opinions. The kind of thing you sip slowly because you're not sure if you should be drinking it or cellaring it.
Three hillsides. Hundreds of lots cupped. One blend that earned its name. The San Sebastian Reserva comes from small producers farming above 1,700 meters in Huila — serious elevation, serious intent. Olympia didn't just buy a bag and slap a story on it. They stationed a cupper in Colombia, flew staff out to the farms, and tasted through harvests week by week until this came together. That kind of obsession shows up in the cup. Fermented in tanks, washed clean, dried slow on parabolic beds — this is coffee that was never going to be anything but exactly what it is.
Sebastián Ramírez doesn't make coffee. He orchestrates it. A fourth-generation producer from Quindío working at 1,800 meters, Sebastián has spent thirteen years perfecting the kind of fermentation that most producers only theorize about — yeast inoculation, carbonic maceration, co-ferments that sound like culinary experiments and taste like revelations. This Gesha is his white honey method: ripe cherries sealed in tanks, inoculated with a proprietary yeast culture, fermented low-oxygen for 48 hours, then patio-dried until everything clicks into place. The result is Gesha doing exactly what Gesha wants to do, just louder. Wildflower honey and intense florals hit first. Then bergamot, bright and citrusy, like Earl Grey had a glow-up. Then apricot — ripe, warm, the kind you eat standing over a sink because you can't wait. The acidity dazzles. The mouthfeel is genuinely silky. Nothing is muddled, nothing is overdone. Sebastián's whole philosophy is that fermentation should amplify a coffee, not disguise it. One sip and you'll understand exactly what he means.
Decaf done right — no compromise, no apology. This is what happens when you care as much about the caffeine-free cup as any other on the menu. Olympia sourced this Colombia specifically for Asterisk, pulling from their San Sebastian Project, a long-game initiative built on real relationships between farmers and roasters. Then they handed it off to La Serrania, where ethyl acetate — made from raw sugar, not a lab nightmare — gently coaxes out the caffeine and leaves everything else intact. What's left tastes like a mug of hot cocoa someone slipped a caramel into, topped with a toasted marshmallow. Rich, round, easy. The kind of decaf you drink at 9pm and feel smug about.
This coffee comes from our longtime partners and dear friends, the Ariz Family, whose work has helped shape our relationship with El Salvador for more than a decade. Ricardo Ariz oversees farming across the family’s three small farms, including El Aguila, Los Charras, and El Amel. His son Marco manages processing at El Amel, home to the family’s restored mill, Fenix, a once-forgotten site revived into a hub for innovation and quality. El Salvador remains a rare stronghold for heirloom coffee
El Salvador is the quiet overachiever of Central American coffee — while everyone else chased the new thing, its farms held onto the old, rare stuff. The Ariz family, a father-and-son operation running three farms and their own micro mill, are doing something special with that legacy. This Gesha processed natural is the proof. Geshas are already built for drama — floral, bright, almost impossibly delicate — and the natural process turns that up: fruit-forward, lush, the kind of cup that makes you stop mid-sip and just sit with it. Ricardo and Marco pull cherries from family and friends around them, so there's a whole community folded into every bag. This one's rare, and it knows it.
Bright, clean, and quietly devastating. This is a Sidama washed coffee that tastes like squeezing a citrus wedge over a spoonful of dark molasses while jasmine blooms somewhere nearby — somehow all of that is happening at once, and somehow it works. The Dukamo family of Daye Bensa Exports has been doing this a long time, and it shows. Bochesa Village produces coffee with a kind of structural elegance you can't fake: every sip is transparent, precise, and alive. Drink it slow. It rewards attention.
Somewhere between a forest and a fever dream. Gatta Farm sits at the edge of the clouds in Sidama Bensa, ringed by century-old trees and a waterfall that gave the place its name. Daye Bensa carved this estate out of untouched Ethiopian forest in 2013, and under Kenean Dukamo's management, it's become something rare: a farm that's also a school, a community, a statement. The coffee that comes out of it earns the drama. Anaerobic natural processing means these cherries were sealed away from oxygen before they ever saw a drying bed — fermentation cranked up, fruit flavors pushed to the edge of what's polite. Sidama's high elevation keeps it from tipping over. The result is a coffee that hits like something candied and wild, boozy and bright at once, with a depth that keeps revealing itself cup after cup. This is not a subtle coffee. It doesn't want to be.
Tropical and bright like a fruit stand at peak summer. This naturally processed lot from Kokose Village in Sidama tastes like strawberries and guava got into a argument with a citrus wedge and everyone won. The Dukamo family of Daye Bensa Exports has been in Olympia's corner for years, and this is exactly why — clean, exuberant fruit with the kind of sweetness that doesn't apologize for itself.
Big Truck has been hauling since 2005, and it's not stopping for you. Olympia's flagship blend is the kind of coffee that doesn't need a backstory — it just shows up, does the job, and makes you glad it did. The lineup of origins rotates with the seasons, always chasing peak freshness, but the flavor stays locked in: reliable, full, and exactly what you came for. Roasted to order, pre-ground to a setting that plays nice with whatever you're brewing. This is the one you keep in the house.
This is what happens when a Hawaiian vacation becomes a cup of coffee. Abby and Sal Munoz grow their Pacamara trees on volcanic slopes in Kona — misty mornings, bright afternoons, rich black earth — then let the ripest cherries sit and ferment in their own pulp until something tropical and a little wild emerges. The result tastes like island fruit that earned it. Big, complex, and deeply satisfying in a way that makes you slow down and actually pay attention. Oliver's personal favorite from the Monarch lineup, and once you taste it, that's not hard to believe.
This is what a cup of coffee sounds like when it's showing off. Kenya Boma AA is juicy, alive, and bright in a way that makes you reconsider everything you thought you knew about acidity. Citrus that snaps. Florals that linger. A caramel finish that somehow makes the whole thing feel grounded. Meticulously washed and sun-dried at the Boma washing station, it's built for clarity — every sip lands clean and intentional. Full-bodied enough to feel substantial, vibrant enough to wake up a room. Drink it black. You'll want to.
This is your gateway drug, and we mean that affectionately. Little Buddy is a blend of African coffees that hits like a first road trip — windows down, no plan, everything feeling possible. Sweet berries and stone fruit tumble together with a floral lift that makes the whole thing feel lighter than air. It scored 94 from Coffee Review, which is just confirmation of what your mouth already knows. Named after a teenager's first car, it drives smooth, it's forgiving, and it makes you feel like you know exactly what you're doing even when you don't. Beginner-friendly in the best way. Seasoned drinkers will circle back anyway.
Some coffees demand your attention. Morning Sun just wants to make your morning better. Dark chocolate, roasted hazelnut, vanilla — this is the cup that greets you before you're ready to be greeted, and somehow gets it exactly right. Olympia built this medium roast around small-scale family farmers across Latin America, sourced under their Fair For All model, which means the people growing it are actually doing okay. The result is something smooth, warm, and deeply familiar — like the specific comfort of sunlight coming through a kitchen window at 7am. Not flashy. Just really, really good.
This is your fireplace-in-a-mug coffee. Northwesterly is Olympia's darkest roast — a blend of Indonesian and Latin American beans pushed deep enough to hit dark chocolate and warm spice without tipping into bitter regret. It tastes like the Pacific Northwest feels in October: heavy clouds, good wool, no complaints. Pull it as espresso and it's a brick wall in the best way. Brew it drip and it'll anchor your whole morning. Some coffees ask you to think. This one just tells you to sit down.
Some coffees are good. This one is legendary. The Gesha varietal traces back to a wild forest in western Ethiopia, but Panama is where it became famous — and Bambito is where it became *this*. Priscilla Gonzalez won the 2021 Best of Panama competition with this exact lot, and she didn't just win — she set the all-time price record for a washed coffee. The washed process strips away every hiding place and lets the varietal speak for itself: floral, pristine, and almost impossibly clean, like jasmine tea steeped in glacier water and poured into your finest cup. Olympia's founder first tasted a Gesha in 2004 and never really got over it. After one sip of this, you'll understand why.
Flavors of chocolate, citrus, and jasmine Grown on land enriched by centuries of history, Espíritu Wari Reserva celebrates the magic and heritage of Peruvian coffee as a blend of the season's top-scoring microlots. Read our Blog Post Peru – peh-ROO Espíritu – es-pee-REE-too Wari – WAH-ree Reserva – reh-SER-vah
Rwanda has a way of making washed coffees feel like they were brewed in a different dimension — lighter, cleaner, more alive than they have any right to be. Kanya is exactly that. It drinks like a delicate white tea with a custard heart, finishing with the bright little pop of white grape. There's nothing here that overpowers. Everything earns its place. The smallholder farmers feeding this washing station in Rwanda's Western Province are growing something quietly extraordinary, and the raised-bed drying lets every note ring clear. Brew it in the morning when the light is still soft. You'll understand.
Kayaza province doesn't mess around. This natural from Burundi opens with a jolt of tart grapefruit — bright, a little confrontational — then lands somewhere soft and golden, like butterscotch pooling at the bottom of the cup. It's the rare natural that won't alienate your washed-coffee friends, and it might just convert them. Bold enough to make a statement, sweet enough to stick around.
Long Miles Coffee Project has been quietly doing some of the most important work in Burundi for years — building trust, station by station, hill by hill. Munyinya Hill is the proof. This washed lot tastes like the kind of fruit that's been left to get just a little too ripe: dark, brooding fig and blackberry with a backbone of caramelized sugar that lingers like the end of something good. It's not flashy. It's just exactly right.
This is a coffee that knows exactly what it is — and it's not trying to be anything else. Onyx built this one from the ground up for cold brew: sourced for low acidity, roasted long and hot until the sugars go dark and the body turns thick as a handshake. The result tastes like cocoa and dates stirred into something creamy and inevitable. Pour it over ice straight, or let it get cozy with some milk fat. Either way, it coats the glass and doesn't apologize. No flash, no frills — just a cold brew that was engineered to be exactly this good.
The Inga producers of Aponte have been doing something quietly radical up in the Nariño highlands — and this red honey lot is proof. The processing alone is worth talking about: fruit dries on the cherry before depulping, not after, which pushes the sugars somewhere richer and stranger than your average honey. The result is a cup that tastes like caramel pulled tight around a ripe red plum. Structured, plush, and just a little wild. This one comes back to our shelves every year because it earns it.
Gesha from Huila doesn't need much help being extraordinary — but Brayan Smith isn't leaving anything to chance. A third-generation grower in Pitalito, he's taken his family's land and quietly turned it into a laboratory for what Colombian specialty coffee can become. Elevations pushing 1,800 meters, deliberate agronomic choices, and a washed process that lets the Gesha speak without interference. The result is exactly what you want from this variety: luminous, almost architectural clarity, the kind of cup that makes you stop mid-sip and reconsider your morning. Heritage with ambition. Buy it before it's gone.
Deep in the Western Cordillera — where the Andes fold into themselves and the air gets thin and serious — over 150 women are growing something worth paying attention to. AMACA isn't just a co-op; it's a statement. These producers run their own farms in Cauca, and what ends up in your cup is the result of that kind of focused, uncompromising labor. The washed process keeps things honest: clean, bright, nothing to hide behind. This is Colombian coffee with its spine intact — the kind that makes you sit up a little straighter and wonder why you ever settled for anything less.
Gabriel Castaño Buendía’s La Granada in Acevedo, Huila is one of the farms that helped define Pink Bourbon in southern Colombia. A longtime producer known for both quality and generosity, Gabriel has shared plant material and knowledge with growers across the region. This lot was fermented whole in cherry for 90 hours, then rinsed and mechanically dried for a vibrant, structured cup.
Jairo Arcila grows Pink Bourbon at Finca Santa Mónica, then does something almost audacious with it: 72 hours of anaerobic fermentation with actual dried rose petals. The result isn't gimmicky — it's eerily precise. Floral without being fussy, sweet without softness, bright without bite. This tastes like the memory of a bouquet pressed between the pages of something you loved. It lingers. It's meant to.
Every once in a while a coffee walks in and ruins you for normal things. This is that coffee. Julio Madrid grows the Caturra, Julio Andrés Quiceno takes it from there — sealing it in an oxygen-free tank with watermelon and passionfruit, then hitting it with nitrogen until something genuinely strange and wonderful happens. The cup tastes like watermelon candy that went to finishing school. Florals drift through. Red fruits show up quietly at the end, like they don't want to steal the spotlight. They're right not to. This one comes back every year and people lose their minds over it. You will too.
Two versions of the same Gesha walk into a bar. One ordered something clean and classical — the washed lot from La Riviera hits like a well-pressed suit: precise, balanced, the kind of cup that makes you sit up straight. The other went through a bioreactor with inoculated fermentation and came out transformed, complexity dialed past what the mountain alone could do. Julio Madrid and Julio Quiceno have been farming these slopes in Santa Rosa de Cabal since 2013, up at 1,750 meters where the air is thin and the coffee is not. This box set is essentially a controlled experiment you get to drink — same Gesha, same farm, radically different processing. Science has rarely tasted this good.
This is the coffee that won the World Barista Championship in 2022. That's not marketing — that's a fact, and one sip will make you believe it. Nestor Lasso's Ombligon is a thermal shock natural processed micro-lot that hits like a perfectly timed punch: layered sweetness that keeps unfolding, intensity that doesn't quit, and a complexity that makes you put your cup down just to think about it for a second. This isn't a subtle coffee. It's a statement. Onyx partnered with Lohas in Colombia specifically to get this into your hands, and honestly, that effort was worth it.
Somewhere in Cauca, in the mountain municipality of Inzá, a regional lot from San Antonio was grown with enough quiet dignity that we had to have it. Washed clean and stripped of its caffeine, what remains is the actual character of the coffee — structured sweetness like biting into a cold red apple, raw sugar warmth that lingers, and an acidity so balanced it lands soft as a ripe pear. This isn't an afterthought. It was sourced with intention, selected specifically for what it tastes like, and it tastes like something worth slowing down for.
Delta Spirit was built for milk the way a leather jacket was built for someone who doesn't need one — it just makes everything better. This is a Natural Colombian roasted dark enough to mean it, where sugar-dense beans hit the drum and come out the other side as something rich and a little dangerous. Dark chocolate that doesn't mess around. Berry undertones so thick and winey they're practically jam. Fat and coffee doing exactly what fat and coffee should do together. Pull it as espresso, pour in your oat milk, and watch your Tuesday become something worth talking about.
Doyenne isn't just a coffee subscription — it's a statement. Named for the most prominent woman in a field, this program exists because coffee has always been built on the backs of women who were rarely given credit for it. That changes here. Curated by Andrea Allen — Onyx co-founder and 2020 US Barista Champion — each selection spotlights women doing extraordinary work in specialty coffee, from farm to cup. Two 8oz bags, rotating origins, and stories worth knowing. Drink good coffee. Shift the paradigm.
Some coffees want to be understood. Eclipse just wants to be felt. This is Onyx going full dark — a washed Colombian roasted deeper than their usual game, built for the drinkers who think 'light roast' sounds like a lifestyle choice they didn't ask for. It's the traditional European style done with craft-nerd precision: no ashiness, no bitterness for bitterness's sake, just the kind of rich, heavy cup that makes you feel like you're in a café somewhere with worse weather and better pastries. The origin rotates with the seasons, but the vibe stays the same — darker than a Darren Aronofsky movie at midnight.
El Dorado sits at elevation in Loja, Ecuador — a farm barely a decade old that already collects Cup of Excellence placements like other people collect frequent flyer miles. The Elder family brought Colombian generational coffee knowledge and teamed up with Bernard Uhe to build something genuinely worth paying attention to. The Wush Wush variety is a weirdo in the best possible way: rare, expressive, and almost unfairly aromatic. Run it through an anaerobic washed process and you get something that tastes like it was engineered specifically to make you stop mid-sip and look at the cup. Floral, bright, layered — the kind of coffee that makes other coffees feel like they weren't trying hard enough.
This washed expression of Typica Mejorado from Juan Peña is his best lot we have had in many years of collaboration. A favorite amonst the roasting staff, this microlot hits all the marks of a great washed coffee- depth and complexity in sweetness, all balanced by a tart, almost red-fruit-like acidity.
Six years in, and Juan Peña still surprises us. His Hacienda La Papaya sits in southern Ecuador's highlands, where Juan runs his farm like a horologist runs a watch shop — every variable accounted for, every detail deliberate. The result is a Natural that doesn't announce itself the way wild-processed coffees sometimes do. It's not jammy chaos. It's controlled sweetness, flowers pressing up through the cup, clarity where you might expect noise. This is what happens when agronomic obsession meets a farm named after a fruit and takes it seriously.
At 2,300 meters, the air is thin and the coffee is anything but. Korma Kontoma sits high in the Ethiopian highlands where the name literally means 'accumulation' — and that's exactly what this cup does. It gathers itself, builds, arrives with the kind of clarity that makes you set your mug down and pay attention. Hunters once assembled in this spot. Now smallholder farmers bring their careful work to the same land, and you can taste that intention. This is a washed Ethiopian that doesn't perform complexity — it simply has it.
Thirty women in the Guji highlands decide to do something extraordinary, and the result ends up in your cup. This natural from Shakiso — dried slow and whole inside the fruit — tastes like the fruit never really left. Dense, jammy, alive. It's the kind of coffee that makes you put your mug down just to think about it for a second. Onyx partnered with Sookoo to make it happen, and they publish every price paid — so the extraordinary thing goes all the way down the chain.
Two coffees walk into a room — a washed Ethiopian and a washed Colombian — and somehow become greater than the sum of their parts. That's Geometry. It's the blend Onyx made for people who refuse to choose between filter and espresso, between clarity and complexity, between 'I need caffeine' and 'I need a moment.' Dial it in however you want. It cooperates. It rewards. It might actually redefine what you think a blend can do.
El Puente is the result of generations of coffee tradition, led by Marysabel Caballero and Moisés Herrera, whose work in Marcala, Honduras blends deep-rooted heritage with ongoing innovation. Across more than 50 farms and a diverse range of cultivars, their commitment to quality, sustainability, and thoughtful processing continues to shape some of the region’s most expressive coffees.
Monarch was built for milk the way a leather jacket was built for a Friday night. Onyx roasted this Colombian natural dark enough to unlock something genuinely decadent — the kind of dark chocolate and jammy, winey berry richness that doesn't just survive a splash of oat milk, it thrives. The sugar-dense beans caramelize under heat into something thick and layered, clinging to fat like they were made for it. Because they were. Pull it as espresso and it's a proper shot. Run it through drip and pour in whatever you've got. Either way, it delivers.
Mount Totumas didn't stumble into greatness — they earned it acre by acre, decade by decade. This is a family that treated conservation as a religion long before specialty coffee came knocking, and the land repaid them handsomely. Their washed Gesha is the proof: clean and luminous, the kind of cup that feels less like drinking coffee and more like holding a wine glass up to a rainforest canopy. Bright, crystalline, almost impossibly delicate — this is what happens when the soil gets the final say.
Gesha from Peru doesn't arrive with the fanfare of Ethiopia or Panama — and that's exactly why this one hits different. Faustino Flores has been working the hills of San Ignacio long enough that the land knows him back. El Morito isn't a statement farm. It's a life's work, passed down and built upon, the kind of place where innovation doesn't disrupt tradition — it deepens it. What ends up in your cup is what happens when a farmer actually knows what he's doing: a washed Gesha that's precise without being cold, expressive without showing off. Think florals that drift rather than announce themselves, a brightness that lingers like afternoon light through a window. This is legacy with excellent taste.
Germán Cubas Perez farms Los Alisos in Nueva Granja, Querocoto, alongside his family, growing coffee beneath native shade trees that define the land. In this high-elevation region of Cajamarca, where coffee is a relatively recent crop, producers are crafting unique and elegant cup profiles through careful processing and deep respect for their environment, positioning Querocoto as one of Peru’s most exciting emerging origins.
Somewhere between the Andes and the jungle, at an altitude where the air gets thin and the microclimates get interesting, families rebuilt their farms from the ground up after decades of political chaos. That history is in the cup — not in a heavy, tortured way, but in the way that hard-won things tend to taste better. This washed Peruvian is clean and composed, the kind of coffee that doesn't announce itself loudly but earns your attention sip by sip. Resilience, apparently, has excellent terroir.
Three hours before bed. You're tired but not *done*. Enter Power Nap — Onyx's half-caf answer to the eternal evening dilemma. It's a pre-roast blend of their floral Ethiopia Worka and a natural sugar cane process Decaf Colombia Huila, and the result tastes like a ripe peach that fell into a chocolate fountain. Silky, sweet, and finishing like brown sugar dissolving on your tongue. The kind of cup that makes you think one was enough, then pour another anyway. Sleep is optional.
West of Lake Kivu, where volcanic soil does half the work before the farmers even show up. Kanzu station runs a tight ship — cherry flotation, dry fermentation, water used like it matters — and the result is a cup that earns the word 'balanced' without being boring about it. Think apricot preserves stirred into raw cane sugar. Sweet from front to back, no rough edges, no drama. Just a Bourbon variety doing exactly what a Bourbon variety should do when everyone involved knew what they were doing.
Thirty days on raised beds, baking slowly in the Rwandan sun just west of Lake Kivu. That's not a processing method — that's patience. The smallholder farmers growing Bourbon on these mineral-rich volcanic slopes know what they're doing, and the cup proves it: concentrated, fruit-forward, and built with the kind of structure that makes you slow down and actually pay attention. Rwanda keeps earning its place at the top table of specialty coffee, and Kanzu is a big reason why.
This is what high altitude does to coffee when everything goes right. From the Ayla Bensa washing station in Sidama — where the semi-forest is dense and the air is thin and unforgiving — comes a washed Ethiopian that drinks like a deep breath. Jasmine drifts in first, then something cool and melon-bright, then a quiet ripple of yellow fruit that lingers just long enough to make you reach for another sip. No chaos, no showboating. Just elevation and precision in a cup.
Sebastian Ramirez didn't stumble into greatness — he built it. Between teaching farmers across Quindío how to do things right and running his El Placer estates, the man somehow found time to grow this. A Gesha processed white honey, which means just enough fruit left on during drying to coax out something almost impossibly delicate. It smells like a jasmine vine that got into a pineapple. It tastes like it too — herbal, sweet, faintly golden, like honey that learned to float. This is the kind of cup you drink slowly because you're not ready for it to end.
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Some coffees try to impress you. Southern Weather just makes you feel at home — then quietly blows your mind. This is Onyx's house blend, the one they trust enough to pour every single day in their own cafes, and it earns that spot. Bright citrus keeps things lively while deep chocolate anchors the whole thing. It's the kind of balance that feels effortless but absolutely isn't. Black, it's clean and complex. With milk, it turns into something you'll think about on your commute. Whether you're a pour-over purist or a cortado loyalist, this coffee was built for you specifically.
Summer doesn't have to end. Tropical Weather is Onyx's love letter to Ethiopia — two coffees, washed and natural, pulled into a blend that somehow punches above its weight. The washed brings delicate florals and a silky, juicy body. The natural brings the wild stuff: pungent ripe fruit, dark sugars, the kind of sweetness that doesn't ask permission. Together they land somewhere unexpected — like iced sweet tea spiked with plum and berries, served on a porch that doesn't exist but should. Floral, jammy, and just a little unruly. Shorts weather, bottled.
This is coffee as pre-race ritual. The Bell Lap blend doesn't shout — it locks eyes with you across the start line. There's the quiet focus of a 5am training ride in every cup, and underneath that calm, something electric. Brewed in partnership with USA Cycling, it's built for people who know that the moment before the bell is the loudest one of all. Steady. Confident. Ready to go.
This is your people-pleaser without the personality crisis. Angel Wings is built for milk — specifically for that moment when espresso and steamed milk meet and something magic happens. Right now it's running Familia Pacas from El Salvador and La Mariposa from Colombia, two washed coffees that together land somewhere between crème caramel and a long exhale. Sweet, smooth, no drama. The kind of blend that makes everyone at the table happy, including the one person who 'doesn't really like coffee.'
Huila has a way of producing coffees that feel like they were made by people who actually care — which makes sense, because 80% of its producers work plots smaller than three hectares. This is small-scale, hands-in-the-dirt coffee from the valley between the Andes' Central and Eastern ranges, and it tastes like it. The EA decaf process uses ethyl acetate derived from fermented sugarcane and bananas to pull the caffeine without gutting the flavor, and what's left is genuinely interesting: orange rind, a ripe stone fruit sweetness that lingers, a malty backbone, and an aftertaste that sticks around long after the cup is empty. Soft acidity. Real complexity. The kind of thing you drink at 9pm without a second thought.
Oscar and Francisca Chacón didn't plan to change Costa Rican coffee forever — an earthquake did it for them. When the 2008 quake knocked out power and water mid-harvest, Francisca improvised raised beds and started drying fruit-on. Buyers lost their minds. That happy accident is why you're here now. This Red Honey Caturra and Catuai from their Las Lajas Micromill is thick and deliberate — the kind of cup that makes you put your phone down. Think ripe stone fruit with enough sweetness to feel indulgent but enough structure to keep things interesting. Three generations of stubbornness pressed into every bag. Drink it slow.
When the Pacas afamily purchased La Guachoca in 2008, it was quite rundown. Still, given the land's location, altitude, and rich volcanic soil, they saw its potential and have been renovating the farm since 2013, planting specialty varieties such as Red and Orange Bourbon, Pacamara , and Bernardina. Named 'La Guachoca ' after the small quail-like Guachoca bird often sighted in the area, the farm sits on the extinct Cerro Verde volcano at an altitude between 1410 and 1600 meters above sea l
The Pacas family has been growing coffee in the mountains of El Salvador for more than five generations. We’re proud to call them one of our longest-standing producer relationships, having purchased their coffees since 2012. Together, we’ve seen many ups and downs—leaf rust, down years, the discovery of new varieties, growth and the ability to purchase more coffees, wildly fluctuating prices, global pandemics—we’ve seen a lot. But, through it all, the Pacas family has been our first stop on any
Technically, Banko Gotiti sits in the Gedeo Zone. But terroir doesn't care about political boundaries — and one sip of this makes that abundantly clear. It drinks like a classic Yirgacheffe: all lifted florals, ripe citrus, and the kind of bright, sparkling acidity that makes your whole mouth wake up. Smallholder farmers tend these garden-style plots with their own hands, delivering their harvest to the Banko Gotiti washing station where precision processing keeps everything clean and singing. This is the coffee equivalent of opening a window on a spring morning. Delicate without being timid. Alive.
Five medals. Three gold. Back to back. Ghost Rider doesn't come to play nice — it comes to win. This is a blend that throws out the rulebook, built entirely from natural-processed coffees that hit like a freight train of fruit and cream. The Ethiopia brings the wildness: jammy, red-grape, alive. The Brazil brings the anchor: buttery, thick, unapologetically rich. Together they taste like someone stirred stewed apricot into a glass of Burgundy and somehow made it better. Syrupy body, fruit-forward chaos, a finish that lingers like a good story. Not your quiet morning coffee. Ghost Rider.
Over a decade ago, Proud Mary showed up to a small cluster of farms near Lake Yojoa and never really left. Good thing. The producers around Santa Barbara, Honduras were quietly making coffee good enough to outpace demand — so in 2018, Proud Mary did what any loyal partner would do: invented a reason to buy more of it. Chicos Buenos is that reason. A community blend built from the lots of Javier Fernandez, Nahun Fernandez, and Ovidio Gomez, it's one of those rare cases where the math doesn't add up — the blend consistently scores higher than any single lot going into it. Washed and bright, it drinks like the region at its most articulate: clean, composed, and quietly showing off. This is what a long-term relationship tastes like.
Some coffees demand you pay attention. Humbler is not that coffee — and that's exactly the point. This is the one you pull before your brain is on, the shot that turns a fridge full of milk into something that tastes like liquid chocolate fudge. Rich, syrupy, and sweet as espresso gets. No dialing-in rabbit holes, no fussing. Just seasonal components sourced direct from producers, doing what a great blend should: getting out of your way and tasting good every single time.
A family legacy that started on horseback. In 1958, Dr. Jorge Vides rode into the highlands of Huehuetenango and decided this land was worth something. He was right — ANACAFE agreed in 1984. Now his daughter and grandson are running Finca La Bolsa, and they're still proving it. This Pacamara processed naturally sits in that rare sweet spot where a coffee feels both wild and composed — the altitude-driven brightness of Huehuetenango doing exactly what it's supposed to do, the natural process adding a lush, almost decadent weight underneath. Huehuetenango just swept the top eight spots at the 2024 Cup of Excellence. La Bolsa knows why. Drink it black. No negotiation.
Five generations of the Caballero family have been coaxing extraordinary coffee out of the hills near San Isidro, Honduras — and Fabio Jr. just blew the roof off the whole legacy. La Salvaje, the farm he founded with his grandfather Don Fabio (himself a Cup of Excellence winner), just took 1st place in the 2025 Honduras COE Exotic category with a score of 91.59. Then sold at auction for $88.40 a pound. This is Geisha grown in a place called 'The Wild' — shaded, bird-filled, untamed — using seeds from the family's own award-winning stock. What ends up in your cup is what happens when generational obsession meets perfect terroir: floral and luminous, impossibly clean, the kind of thing that makes you sit still for a minute. Drink it black. No sugar, no milk, no apologies. Treat it like the rare thing it is.
Nestled in Chiapas’ El Triunfo Biosphere Reserve, Finca Santa Cruz is a story of revival and dedication. Originally founded in 1956, it was reborn in 2013 when the Argüello family embraced its untapped potential. After years of neglect, they began mapping and replanting the land with modern varieties suited to the rich volcanic soil and unique microclimate. Their vision paid off and by 2019, they ranked among Mexico’s top three producers in the Cup of Excellence. For the family, this success a
Aliss Hartmann didn't just inherit a love of coffee — she built a whole farm around it so her kids could grow up the same way she did: barefoot, surrounded by trees, learning that the land means something. Finca Momoto is that farm. The Camino section in particular keeps showing up and showing off, and this Natural Geisha is exactly why. It's the kind of cup that makes you put your phone down. Floral and weightless up top, then something deeper and fruit-forward settles in — like biting into a ripe stone fruit someone left in a warm kitchen. No water wasted in the making of it. No milk needed in the drinking of it. Just pour it black and pay attention.
This is not a subtle coffee. This is chocolate to the max — and that's exactly the point. Chocolate Bunnies is Proud Mary's Easter blend, built from two naturally processed coffees they know intimately: Rio Brilhante out of Brazil and the Pacas family's crop from El Salvador. These are long-term relationships, and the trust shows in the cup. What you get is rich, unapologetic chocolate — the kind that takes you straight back to Easter morning, ears-first into a foil-wrapped bunny, chocolate smeared somewhere it shouldn't be, not a care in the world. It's a seasonal release, which means when it's gone, it's gone. Grab it while the basket's still full.
The Mierisch family didn't exactly choose coffee — they kind of stumbled into it. A German geologist builds a railroad, Nicaragua can't cover the bill, and suddenly there's mountain land in Matagalpa changing hands. That was the 1800s. Five generations later, the family is still farming it, and they're growing something special: Javanica, their own nickname for Java cultivated on Nicaraguan soil, a variety that's earned its place at the Cup of Excellence table more than once. El Limoncillo's natural-processed Javanica tastes like someone pressed a handful of wild berries between the pages of a book and forgot about them until exactly the right moment — deep, ripe, and unhurried. Plum and raspberry with the kind of weight that makes you slow down. This is a coffee with a paper trail going back to 1930 and the fruit to back it up.
Commitment issues? Same. This is the coffee equivalent of ordering three tacos instead of one. Pick any three bags from the lineup, and S&W will send you 100g of each — enough to actually taste what you're getting into before you go all-in. Or let them choose and see what happens. Either way, it's a solid way to get acquainted with the roster, and an even better way to show up to someone's birthday without a boring gift card.
This blend started as a fruit-forward milk espresso and ended up somewhere better. Three naturals — Peru, Papua New Guinea, Rwanda Dukorere — come together and pull toward something warmer and weirder than expected: a brightness that lifts the shot, and a finish with unmistakable Cinna-Crunch energy. Cereal milk. The kind you drink straight from the bowl. Pull it lever-style, steam some milk, and stop overthinking your morning.
Here's the thing about Castillo: people love to write it off. Blame the variety, blame the yields, blame whatever. Arturo Arango doesn't have time for that. He bought a worn-out farm in Quindío, ripped out 25-year-old trees, went to Argentina to study agroindustries, came back with ambition, and started over from scratch. This is what that looks like in the cup. Clean, composed, quietly confident — tamarind pulling juicy on one side, green grape cool and bright on the other, with bakers chocolate and hazelnut holding it all together like a well-built sentence. It's not loud. It doesn't need to be. Think less neon fruit bomb, more Sunday morning clarity — the kind of coffee that makes you realize you've been drinking too many coferments and forgot what a great base actually tastes like. This is that base. Thirty hours underwater fermentation, careful washing, temperature-controlled drying. No tricks. Just a young farmer who takes meticulous care of his trees and knows exactly what he's doing.
The Roaster's Select Program program allows us the flexibility to explore beans which don't quite fit into our standard business model, such as experimental fermentations, rare varietals, limited sized lots, and expensive treats. These beans will be available in very limited quantity, only as whole bean, and to keep the price point down and give more people a chance to try them, they will only come in a smaller bags. Please bear in mind, I'm not telling you these beans are 3x as tasty or 3x the
Edwin Noreña is the kind of coffee farmer who reads biotechnology papers for fun and measures cherry sugar content before picking. The result of that obsession is this: a Pink Bourbon from Finca Campo Hermoso that tastes like someone handed you a cold IPA, then halfway through you realized it was actually a peach gummy candy, then a rose hip jam danish, then a glass of fresh-squeezed grapefruit. It shifts on you. That's the point. The process is genuinely wild — whole-cherry primary ferment, pulped to black honey, then dropped into sealed tanks with mossto (essentially concentrated coffee juice from a previous batch of the same Pink Bourbon) spiked with Galaxy hops and recirculated for three days. Then greenhouse dried on raised beds. Noreña isn't chasing novelty for its own sake — he's using fermentation as a magnifying glass on what the coffee already wants to be. Play with your extraction and it plays back: pull lighter and get tropical fruit with a hoppy finish, push harder and land somewhere closer to peachy IPA territory with lemongrass at cool-down. This is not a background coffee. It will require your attention and reward it.
This one starts composed — classic Colombia balance, the kind of cup that doesn't show off. Then it shifts. Soft yellow fruits creep in, a whisper of cardamom, something almost savory and floral in the finish that shouldn't work but absolutely does. Give it time and it turns jammy and tropical, the kind of mango-banana sweetness that makes you check the bag twice. As espresso it pulls starfruit and golden apple out of nowhere. Grown by Felipe Arcila — co-founder of Cofinet — at Jardines del Eden in Quindio, at elevations where the air is thin and the fruit gets weird in the best way. The Bourbon Papayo varietal is named for its papaya-shaped beans and traced back to Ethiopian landrace roots, making it a genuinely rare thing in the glass. Available in 100g bags only, because that's all there is. Try it before Nick finds something else to play with.
The decaf that doesn't know it's a decaf. This Popayan stunner pulls from Cauca's high altitude farms — up to 2070 masl — where Castillo, Catimor Typica, and Caturra have no choice but to taste like something. And they do: ripe stonefruit with a whisper of spice that lingers like a good secret. The sugarcane EA process keeps everything intact, the washed foundation keeps it clean, and the result is a cup that will make you question every bad decaf you've ever suffered through. Pull it as espresso and don't be timid — long, slow shots at 1:2 to 1:3 are the move. Give it 7–10 days rest and then wonder why you waited this long.
Someone fermented this coffee with yeast and macerated blackberries, and honestly? Good call. What came out the other side is wild in the best way — blackberry, farmhouse ale, and coconut sharing a cup like they've known each other for years. It's the kind of coffee that makes you stop mid-sip and reconsider your morning routine. Grown by Jairo Arcila, a third-generation farmer in Quindío who spent 40 years running mills before retiring and deciding his six farms deserved to get a little weird. His sons — co-founders of export partner Cofinet — brought the processing knowledge. Jairo brought the Castillo. Together they built something that has no business tasting this interesting. Available in 100g bags only, because good things are finite and Nick wanted to play with fun beans.
Someone snuck cinnamon into your coffee and somehow made it taste more like coffee than ever before. This Pink Bourbon from Jairo Arcila's Finca Santa Mónica in Quindío smells exactly like a freshly opened box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch — no apologies, no hedging — but drinks like the most composed, elegant tea you've ever had. The cinnamon isn't a trick or a gimmick. It was introduced during a 72-hour wet anaerobic fermentation alongside tartaric acid and organic cinnamon, then the coffee was pulped and dried slow and low on raised beds. The result is clean and balanced, with that warm spice arriving quietly in the finish rather than announcing itself at the door. Subtle. Seasonal. A little magical. Jairo spent 40 years managing mills for one of Colombia's biggest exporters before retiring and turning his full attention to the six farms he'd quietly been building the whole time. His sons helped him learn to process for quality. This is what that looks like. Available in 100g bags only, and not forever — so if you've ever wanted to drink a cup that tastes like autumn figured itself out, now's the time.
Jairo Arcila spent 40 years running someone else's mill. Now he runs six farms and makes coffees that taste like this. The 'Holiday Pies' name isn't a stretch — this is peach cobbler still warm from the oven, a ribbon of cinnamon curling through ripe stone fruit, the whole thing somehow less sweet than you'd expect and better for it. That cinnamon addition is doing real work here: it sharpens the fruit instead of burying it, keeps the whole cup from tipping into candy territory. This is a 50/50 blend of Jairo's Honey Peach Castillo and Cinnamon Honey Pink Bourbon coferments, both from his Santa Mónica farm in Quindío. Fair warning: coferments are loud and proud — if you want subtle, look elsewhere. If you want your December mornings to smell like a bakery run by a man who earned every square foot of his land, this is it.
Divisive by design, but somehow this is the co-ferment that converts skeptics. Jairo Arcila — third-generation grower, retired mill manager, owner of six farms in Quindío — packed his Castillo cherries into a 72-hour anaerobic ferment alongside macerated lulo fruit and wine yeast. Lulo, if you haven't met it, is a Colombian citrus that splits the difference between grapefruit and bergamot. What comes out the other side tastes like someone spiked a glass of pink grapefruit with a handful of purple grapes and finished it with a whisper of dry hops. It's bright, it's funky in the best possible way, and it absolutely destroys as a turbo shot. Co-ferments aren't for everyone — the flavors are loud and they mean it. But if you've ever wanted a coffee that tastes like a craft cocktail made by someone who actually knows what they're doing, this is your cup.
Four out of five tasters said peach. The fifth said yellow Indian coconut curry with sweet red peppers. We're not here to settle the debate — we're here to tell you this coffee is weird in the best possible way. It starts with Jairo Arcila, a third-generation grower from Quindío who spent 40 years as a mill manager before retiring and turning his six farms into something his sons at Cofinet could be proud of. His Castillo lot from Finca Santa Mónica went through 72 hours of wet anaerobic fermentation with actual macerated peaches and yeast before being honey processed and dried slow on raised beds. The result is a cup that tastes like a ripe peach that couldn't decide if it wanted to be a cocktail or a curry. Bright, funky, and unapologetically specific. Available in 100g bags only — Nick bought these to play with, and you're invited.
Nick wanted to play with fun beans. This is what happens when you let him. Jairo Arcila — third-generation grower, former mill manager for four decades, now retired and clearly thriving — took his Pink Bourbon cherries from Finca Santa Mónica, put them through a 72-hour anaerobic fermentation with actual powdered roses, then honey-processed them on raised beds. The result is exactly as unhinged and wonderful as it sounds. Early on it's all rose water and something herbal you can't quite name — a ghost of a spice. Give it time. As the bag opens up, that mystery fades and what's left is cherry candy and citrus zest, like someone dissolved a Luden's drop in rose water and called it a beverage. Light-bodied and tea-like at first, then juicy and almost natural-process wild as it breathes. This is not a three-times-better coffee — it's a different kind of thing entirely. A small, weird, beautiful treat from Quindío. Only in 100g bags, only while it lasts.
Imagine a cream saver candy — the hard-shell kind you'd fish out of your grandma's purse — left to melt slowly on your tongue. That's the opening act. Jairo Arcila's Castillo cherries spent 72 hours in a dry anaerobic tank with macerated strawberries and wine yeast before being honey-processed and dried on raised beds at 1,500 meters in Quindío, and the result is something that shouldn't work as well as it does. Strawberry, custard, vanilla. Florals that bloom a little louder than the washed version. It's the most dialed-in co-ferment we've seen — still unmistakably itself, but never unhinged. Third-generation farmer, six farms, forty years of mill management before retirement — Jairo didn't stumble into great coffee, he engineered it. Give it two weeks of rest. Then don't share it.
Fair warning: this one plays by its own rules. Jairo Arcila — third-generation grower, former mill manager of 40 years, patriarch of a six-farm empire in Quindío — grew this Castillo, and his sons helped turn it into something that tastes like lychee candy dissolved in rose water, backed by cherry and white grape. The trick: a 72-hour anaerobic fermentation with actual macerated lychee and wine yeast before washing and drying on raised beds. The result is a co-ferment that doesn't hit you over the head. It's flirty, not loud. Sweet, fruity, and floral in a way that keeps opening up the longer you let it rest — S&W recommends 3-4 weeks if you want the full mellow bloom. If you've never had a co-ferment, this is the friendliest possible introduction. If you have, you already know whether you're in or out.
Someone smashed a wedge of fresh watermelon into your cup and walked away without apologizing. That's Santa Monica. Not candy, not artificial, not the neon-pink novelty you might be bracing for — just cold, juicy, stupidly refreshing watermelon in coffee form. It's the most laid-back co-ferment you'll ever meet, which is saying something for a process that usually arrives wearing a feather boa. Jairo Arcila — third-generation grower, retired mill manager, owner of six farms in Quindío — spent 40 years mastering coffee before his own sons taught him new tricks. The result is a Castillo lot that went through 72 hours of dry anaerobic fermentation with macerated watermelon and wine yeast, then dried slowly on raised beds until it became this. Light. Natural. The kind of cup that makes you forget it's Monday.
A century-old family farm in the volcanic highlands above Poás. A dwarf-sized coffee plant that apparently does not care to be underestimated. Push this one hard — give it the heat, the time, the heavy hand — and it opens up like a fruit market inside a wine barrel. Green apple up front, the kind that's almost shockingly crisp, softening over the course of a week into sweet red berries and something caramel-candied lurking underneath. The funk is there but it's wearing a suit. This is a natural that isn't trying to hit you over the head with itself — it's got manners and fruit and a wild streak it mostly keeps in check. Alberto and Diego Guardia have been farming this land for generations, chasing complexity through rare varietals and meticulous drying at altitude. This particular lot — Dwarf Caturra, naturally processed with obsessive temperature controls and a two-month rest before milling — is the kind of thing that only exists because someone wanted to see what would happen. You should find out.
These beans almost didn't make it. Pulled out by an optical sorter mid-production, they were one bad scan away from the bin — but they tasted too damn good to waste. S&W cleaned them up, ground them fresh, and now they're yours at a price that should feel slightly illegal. The current batch opens with straight-up peanut butter — not subtle, not 'nutty,' actual peanut butter — then drifts into a quiet fruity sweetness before landing on a cocoa finish that lingers just long enough to make you want another sip. Built for cold brew. Steep it low and slow in your fridge, ignore it for a day and a half, and what comes out is rich, smooth, and a little unexpected. The blend shifts with whatever's on the roaster that week, which means every bag is a small mystery. Limited quantity, no guarantees, no apologies.
Strawberry, watermelon, cantaloupe — and then the hibiscus hits and you realize this cup is basically a candied flower market in a glass. Galo Morales and his family have been tending Finca Cruz Loma in San José de Minas for 80 years, growing coffee alongside soursop and citrus on a 350-hectare slice of the Ecuadorian cloud forest. The 2022 Cup of Excellence win wasn't a fluke. This is Gesha treated naturally, which means the fruit gets to stay loud — lychee, red berry, a little clove spice lurking at the edges — but it never tips into funk. It tastes more like something dipped in sugar than something left to ferment. Massively sweet. Surprisingly clean. Outstanding in every direction. Fair warning: it comes in 100g bags only, and Nick bought very little of it, so the math on how long it lasts is grim.
This coffee should not taste like this. It's washed. It's supposed to be clean and restrained and polite. Instead, Galo Morales's Gesha from Finca Cruz Loma shows up acting like a natural — all ripe strawberry, cherry, raspberry, and magnolia florals tumbling over each other like fruit left in a warm kitchen. There's a whisper of cantaloupe early on, a flick of orange zest at the finish, and just enough funk to keep things interesting without losing its shape. Silky, sweet, intense. The kind of cup that makes you second-guess everything you thought you knew about washed coffees. Grown at 1450 masl on an 80-year-old family farm north of Quito by Galo Fernando Morales Flores — a man who left the coffee industry, learned everything, and came back to grow something extraordinary. Cruz Loma won the Cup of Excellence in 2022. One sip and you'll understand why.
A fruit cocktail that got its passport stamped. This anaerobic natural from Finca El Gobiado tastes like someone blended mango, papaya, and maraschino cherry, then somehow kept it completely clean. Four generations of the Alfaro family have been coaxing Rainbow Bourbon out of the volcanic slopes of Ahuachapan, and it shows — this isn't funky chaos, it's controlled tropical electricity. The cherries go into airtight barrels for 96 hours with selected microbes before hitting raised shade beds for three weeks of slow, careful drying. Pull it as espresso and it's straight peach and nectarine through a fire hose. Brew it slow and the fruit separates into layers. Either way, it's loud, clean, and dangerously drinkable. Light roast — don't choke the grind, or you'll leave the best parts behind.
This one hits you before you even grind it. Crack the bag and the fruit smell is almost aggressive — in the best possible way. Faysel Abdosh Yonis grew these 74110 and 74158 varietals at serious altitude in Sidama's Bura District, and then the Gera Agena station locked them in an airtight tank for seven days until the pH bottomed out at 3.8. Thirty more days drying in the shade. The result tastes like the blueberry component of a gas station slushie got a PhD and went upscale — deep, specific, a little feral. Dark florals chase it. Black tea and white sugar keep it honest. This is the kind of coffee that reminds you why you fell into this rabbit hole in the first place. Fair warning: it rewards dialing in. Go medium and get violet and iris floating over ripe fruit. Push too hard and the funk takes over. But that's the fun. Make it yours.
A good amount of berry and a slight touch of funk - easy to dial around & nice in the cup. Will it spro? Yep, similar to all our other decafs. Roast Date: 3-24-26 Roast Color: 128.6 (higher is lighter) As with other SWP coffees, the surface color appears darker than the roast level - this is actually the same profile as our Popayan EA with a slightly lower drop temp. I've been gradually working these SWP lighter every batch. Dega and Kuruma varietals grown by smallholder farmers around the Benti
Mullugeta Muntasha didn't grow up around coffee. He drove trucks hauling cherry across Ethiopian highlands, watched, learned, and eventually went home to build something of his own. In 2022, four of the top ten Cup of Excellence winners came from his station. This is what that looks like in your cup. It's blueberry and wildflowers on the front end — not subtle, not shy — with a black tea finish that keeps things honest. Think: berry jam discovered inside a florist's shop. The roast is superlight, so rest it five weeks minimum or you're drinking hay. Give it what it needs and it opens up into something genuinely lovely — purple florals, a little strawberry, blueberry leading the whole parade. A traditional Ethiopian natural profile that knows exactly what it is.
Somewhere between a farmers market in August and a glass of natural wine you weren't supposed to finish — that's where this coffee lives. Worka Sakaro sits in the Gedeb highlands just outside Yirgacheffe, nearly 2,200 meters up, where about 400 smallholders hand their ripest cherries over to a process that borders on obsessive. Brix meters to check sugar levels. Float tanks. Sealed fermentation bags. Gas valves. Sixteen hours before the real magic even starts. The result is a cup that tastes like an apple-peach tart someone smuggled into a flower shop — jammy and bright with jasmine drifting underneath. This one needs two weeks of rest after roast. Give it that, and it will reward you accordingly.
Lego Tiba Malde Yismashewa built this washing station from the ground up — thirty years of expertise, her own family's hands, and an obsessive eye for quality. That kind of intention shows up in the cup. This is Yirgacheffe doing something a little wilder than usual: anaerobic natural processing that coaxes out red and blue berry compote like jam left to concentrate on the stove, then lands it on a tangy cheesecake finish with a whisper of violet. There's a hint of funk, just enough to remind you something interesting happened here, not enough to scare you off. Grown at altitude on indigenous heirloom varieties, rested properly, and worth every bit of the wait.
Guatemala has been making classic, crowd-pleasing coffee for so long that it's easy to take for granted. Don't. This one from Luis Pedro Zelaya's Bella Vista mill is a reminder of why Antigua built its reputation in the first place. Fourth-generation perfectionism, volcanic soil, and a custom greenhouse that slow-dries the parchment like it has somewhere better to be — the result is a cup that tastes like brown sugar stirred into warm spice cake with a squeeze of orange zest at the end. Caramel, hibiscus, vanilla, nutmeg. A breakfast coffee that actually deserves the title. Easy to brew, hard to mess up, impossible to dislike.
276 women farming at altitude in Todos Santos Cuchumatán built this coffee while also running their households, earning organic certification, and quietly outworking everyone. The cup earns it. Light and alive — yellow plum, melon, a whisper of peach — then iris floats through like an unexpected guest who turns out to be the best part of the party. Stick around for the finish and there's a warmth to it, a hint of spice that grounds everything out. It's not a showboat. It's the kind of coffee that makes a Monday feel manageable. Easy to dial, honest in the cup, and the kind of thing you reach for when you're tired of beans that taste like a science experiment.
I'm working to profile new Guatemala arrivals, including Medium roasts for traditional shots and milk drinks. This is a blend of several different beans and roast levels, sold at a discount. Roast Date: Mar 3, 2026 What's in the cup? Milk chocolate, hibiscus, hints of spice tones. Will it Spro? Turbos are fair, but not really light enough for my preference. Lever style shots make a decent milk drink. Roast Color: 108.2 (higher is lighter) Recommended Minimum Rest: 2 weeks Sold in 300g bags.
A shockingly clean, tea-like cup with loads of brown sugar sweetness and notes of melon, red clover and a hint of fresh ginger. This is a wow coffee... maybe my favorite washed Guat to date! Will it Spro? Yes, it makes a respectable Turbo. Recommended Minimum Rest: 2 weeks Roast Color: 134.6 (higher is lighter) Bourbon, and Caturra varietals grown by Jenner Villatoro and family in the Hoja Blanca and Agua Dulce area. Washed process, dried on patios, 1700-1850 masl. Sold in 300g bags. Brewmaster
Wilmar Castillo has been in coffee since he was six years old, tagging along behind his father in the mountains of Huehuetenango. Decades later, he farms a plot called Vista Al Bosque — Overlooking the Forest — on a ridge in a valley so good locals just called it blessed land. That origin story matters, because you can taste the care in the cup. This is a washed Bourbon and Caturra that drinks like a warm spice cabinet: apricot jam, a snap of fresh ginger, nutmeg drifting in at the end. Medium-bodied, smooth, the kind of coffee that doesn't demand your attention but quietly earns it. Pull a turbo shot and it shifts into something almost tea-like — mulled, aromatic, a little mysterious. A genuine daily drinker that never gets boring.
India doesn't come up much in specialty coffee conversations, and this is exactly why that's a shame. Kerehaklu Estate sits in the Western Ghats — 'shelter by the lake,' if you're translating 11th-century Kannada — and what Pranoy Thipaiah is doing there is genuinely weird and genuinely cool. He's a biologist who collects wild microbes from flower blossoms on the estate, cultures them, and uses them to kick off a 36-hour submerged fermentation on this S9 hybrid. Science class meets terroir project. The result is not what you'd expect from all that tinkering: it's almost confusingly clean. Dried rose petals. A whisper of lavender. Red licorice from a very good dream. Dark baker's chocolate underneath holding everything together like a responsible adult. The roaster's own words — 'cleaner than a washed Ethiopia clean' — tell you everything. This isn't a coffee that announces itself. It's the quiet one at the party that you can't stop talking to. Fair warning: it'll reward patience (rest it four weeks) and a dialed-in pourover. It's a finicky thing. Worth it.
India doesn't often show up in the specialty conversation, and this coffee explains both why that's a shame and why it's changing. The S9 varietal — a hybrid of Ethiopian Arabica Tafarikela and Timor — was grown on Kerehaklu Estate in Chikmagalur, tucked into the Western Ghats by a fourth-generation farming family and a biologist son who cultures local microbes the way a sommelier tends to a cellar. For this lot, Pranoy Thipaiah inoculated the fermentation with cultures collected from limes, then ran the coffee through a 36-hour submerged ferment before washing and drying on raised beds. The result is not what you'd expect. There's no funk, no drama, no fermentation circus. What's in the cup is something closer to a margarita jelly bean that wandered into a white tea garden — lychee, juniper, a whisper of hazelnut on the finish, and a cleanliness so disarming it borders on mysterious. This is a coffee that rewards patience and a fine grind. Treat it like a puzzle worth solving. Pourover only. Small bags. Limited run.
Kenya has a reputation to uphold, and Kii doesn't show up to disappoint. From 80 smallholders farming the highlands between 1600 and 1800 masl, this fully washed AB comes out swinging. Pull a standard brew and you're in tart, floral, almost architectural territory — tamarind, pear, a whisper of tulip. Push it harder, go concentrated, and the whole thing shifts: suddenly you're wrist-deep in a bowl of mixed red berries, bright and jammy and loud. As an espresso it turbos. That's the actual word used, and it's correct. SL-28 and SL-34 doing what they were born to do, with Ruiru 11 and Batian along for the ride. Give it two weeks off the roast before you touch it. Patience, then reward.
Mt. Kenya looms over this coffee like a landlord who actually gives a damn. Smallholder farmers in Meru County — one of Kenya's most productive highlands — hand-sorted every cherry before it hit the fermentation tank, and you can taste that obsessive care in the cup. What comes out is something like a dried fruit shop caught mid-transformation: tamarind, prune, and figs up front, then hibiscus and red currant creep in like they own the place, and a caramel-vanilla sweetness ties it all together before a citrus and spice fade. Give it four weeks of rest and the florals go from subtle to loud. Pull it as a shot and the sweetness amplifies to almost absurd levels — the kind of espresso that makes you wonder why you ever drink anything else. This is a classic Kenyan that earns the hype.
Kenya does a lot of things well — big winey fruit bombs, jaw-dropping acidity, that savory-sweet thing that makes you stop mid-sip. This is not that. Nyeri Hill Estate AA goes the other direction entirely: honeydew melon draped in a whisper of cinnamon and nutmeg, light and clean, like a breeze through a fruit market at altitude. It's a Kenya that surprises you by being quiet about it. Behind the cup is a farm that's been at this since 1914 — one of east Africa's originals — growing the rare SL28 varietal on slopes between 1800 and 2200 meters while funneling profits into local schools, a teachers college, and a mission hospital. They're also replanting forests and coaxing biodiversity back into 250 hectares of estate land. So yes, it tastes good. It also does good. Give it three weeks rest before you brew it, and then don't overthink it.
A first from Laos, and it earns its debut. This washed Catigua from the volcanic Boloven Plateau opens like a spice market — star anise, cinnamon, a whisper of nutmeg — then slowly exhales into something softer and stranger as it cools: canary melon, yellow plum, the kind of fruit that feels almost accidental, like it snuck in while you weren't paying attention. The acidity is structured and bright without being aggressive. The sweetness lands somewhere between brown sugar and palm sugar depending on how long you've rested it. Give it four weeks and it becomes a different, better version of itself. As espresso it pulls turbo shots that'll make you question every other origin you've been loyal to. Smallholder farmers on the Bolaven Plateau have been growing coffee on this land for over a century — volcanic soil, mountain altitude, rivers running down to the Mekong. The bones are good. The cup proves it.
This is cold brew's platonic ideal — the one you stop explaining and just hand to people. Naturally processed beans, medium roasted and pre-ground on a Mahlkonig VTA6 to exactly the right coarseness for immersion brewing. The result is smooth and unapologetically drinkable, like chocolate milk that went to college. Dark cocoa runs the show, with just enough fruit lurking in the background to remind you there's a coffee cherry somewhere in this story. Steep it 1:12 in your fridge for 30-36 hours and you're done. No drama, no tricks, no disappointing sludge from a nutmilk bag. Just cold brew that actually tastes like cold brew should.
Decaf that earns the word 'elixir.' This one comes from Gold Mountain's cooperative in Jinotega — 70-plus growers, one experimental farm, and a lot of deliberate obsession over cherry ripeness and fermentation timing. The process is a mouthful: carbonic macerated, double fermented, dried in cherry, then Swiss Water decaffeinated. What that means in the cup is wildberry jam swirled into baker's chocolate, with a syrupy body and just enough funky darkness to remind you something interesting happened before it got to you. It's not trying to taste like a decaf. It succeeds.
PNG coffee has a reputation. Earthy, funky, sometimes a little feral. This one tears that reputation up and starts over. The Jiwaka Arufa Natural is S&W's lightest roast to date, and it drinks like it has nothing to prove — clean and bright, with graham cracker sweetness, caramel depth, and mixed berries that feel more like a fruit-forward Kenyan than anything you'd expect from the highlands of Papua New Guinea. Pull it as an espresso and it opens into red apple, plum, and rose. Yes, really. The genetics here are some of the best-preserved typica lineage on earth, grown by 600 smallholder farmers across the Jiwaka and Western Highlands at elevation, then dried whole-fruit for a full month in the cool highland air — a labor-intensive natural process made possible through a direct partnership between Monpi Coffee and the Kindeng Wet Mill. Give it four weeks of rest. It's still waking up.
Imagine Ethiopia got a little lost and ended up in the Peruvian Amazon. That's the energy here. El Palto's natural-processed lot punches way above its latitude — red and blue fruits tumbling over a clean, light body that somehow still behaves itself. Think wild blueberry jam that remembered its manners. Behind the cup is JUMARP, a cooperative born in 2003 from 35 farmers in the Amazonas region, now 189 members strong and 40 families led by women who have a seat at the table — literally, on the Board. Sun-dried on raised beds at altitude, certified organic, built with intention. Pull it as an espresso if you're feeling brave (go a touch finer), or let it bloom in your brewer of choice. Either way, give it a full month to rest. Patience is rewarded.
Somewhere between a fruit stand and a flower market, this Gesha doesn't bother with subtlety. Yellow peach, canary melon, kiwi — all the soft, sun-heavy stuff — cut through with dandelion and daffodil florals that hit you like walking past someone's garden on a warm afternoon. It's sweet without being cloying, floral without floating away. Ronal Carranza Montenegro grows this in the Amazonas highlands and ferments it 120 hours in cherry before it hits the raised beds. He's also a founding member of a regional cooperative dedicated to lifting every producer around him — so it tastes good and it means something. Open the bag the night before. Let it breathe. Then brew it easy.
A pharmacist and a nurse walk into a coffee farm — and somehow that's exactly the right origin story for a coffee this precise. Agnes and Felix of Nova Coffee in Rwanda's Bukure sector brought the same obsessive attention to detail from their Kigali pharmacy to their raised drying beds, and it shows in the cup. This Bourbon natural is lush and unashamed about it: blueberries up front, blackberry jam on the way out, and somewhere in the finish a memory of elephant heart plum that you didn't ask for but absolutely needed. Pull it as an espresso dialed a touch coarser and you'll also find clove and rose doing something unexpected and elegant in the background. Sun-dried for 18 days under the watchful eye of Celeste — a man who has never once been caught without his moisture reader — these cherries were grown by women of the Dukorere Kawa Bukure Cooperative on slopes between 1800 and 2200 meters. The first time Nova tried a natural lot, it came out like this. Some people are just built for it.
Forty-eight smallholders in Rwanda's Rulindo District — 85% of them women — grow this Bourbon on steep hillsides that climb past 2200 meters, higher than anywhere you've heard of in that country. The cup earns every one of those feet. It's silky, clean, and quietly complex: pluot and starfruit up front, the gentle warmth of demerara sugar through the middle, a whisper of ginger at the end like a secret the cup almost kept. Black tea body ties it all together with the kind of composure that makes you slow down and actually taste your coffee. Pulls beautifully as an espresso too — balanced, approachable, nothing jagged. Behind it all is one of the more remarkable origin stories in the business: a school, a dream, a life insurance policy as collateral, and a team that built an entire coffee infrastructure from scratch on unused hillside land. Give it two weeks off roast. Then don't share it.
The Sumatras that make you nervous — the funky, swampy, takes-some-getting-used-to ones — are not this. This is the one that makes you reconsider everything you thought you knew about wet-hulled Indonesian coffee. Royal Coffee, who has cupped a lot of Sumatras, says it's the highest-scoring one they've ever tasted. S&W agrees. The cup is dense and grounding, like you'd expect, but then blood orange cuts through like a knife, followed by five spice warmth and a whisper of lavender that has no business being this elegant. It's a traditional giling basah — wet-hulled, sun-dried, all the ritual intact — but grown on a single 100-hectare estate in Bener Meriah where a young founder named Enzo Sauqi Hutabarat has been quietly doing everything right since 2015. Estate control means varietal isolation: Abyssinia and Typica only, those long-bean heirloom genetics tracing back through Java all the way to Ethiopia. No catimor filler, no mystery blend. Just something unusually precise and clean wearing Sumatra's signature weight like a well-tailored coat. Batch brew it all week. Pull it as a turbo shot on the weekend. Either way, this one earns its reputation.
The Sumatras that haunt your memory aren't clean. They're murky, funky, magnificent in that swampy way — and you love them for it. This one does something different. It keeps the weight, the minerality, the sheer *density* of a proper wet-hulled Sumatran cup, and then adds blood orange and lavender and five spice like someone's grandmother knew exactly what she was doing. It tastes like a spice market that wandered into a citrus grove and decided to stay. CSC is a young estate out of Bener Meriah — 100 hectares, varietal isolation, obsessive sorting — run by a guy who started this whole operation in 2015 as a university student with a hunch. Royal Coffee called it the highest-scoring Sumatra they'd ever cupped. S&W agrees. The medium roast leans into the spice. Pull it as an espresso and you get blood orange and rose with enough spice to make you sit up straight. Run it through a lever machine into milk and you'll wonder why you ever ordered a latte anywhere else. Rest it two weeks. Then drink it like you earned it.
This is one of the few coffees we selected from northern Peru this season. It is also a rare opportunity for us to work with the Caturra variety again, which has played an important role in our sourcing from the very beginning. In the cup we find cherry, panela, and apple.
Diego Parra tends 14 hectares in the mountains of southern Huila with the kind of obsessive care that shows up immediately in the cup. This is his second harvest pass — and between him and his sister Yessica, the Parra siblings are quietly having the best season in the region. The Pink Bourbon is treated with precision: held overnight in cherry, dry-fermented for 36 hours, then dried slow on raised beds. What comes through is razor-clean and bright — candied lemon that crackles, red currant with some edge to it, and a hibiscus finish that lingers like something floral and slightly tart. This is SEY's first year buying from Diego. It will not be the last.
Genezard has an exceptionally beautiful farm situated alongside an enormous nature reserve in the San Fernando Valley. In the cup we find florals, prickly pear, and lychee.
Kenya has a way of making other coffees feel boring, and Ruarai is a good reason why. This is SEY's first Kenyan release of the season, coming off the western slopes of Mount Kenya at nearly 1,800 meters — high enough that the cherries take their time and mean it. What ends up in your cup tastes like pomegranate juice cut with grapefruit peel and something floral that stops just short of perfume. Rose hips linger. It's tart and bright and a little wild, the way good Kenyan coffee always is. The SL28 and SL34 trees behind this are living relics — selected from single trees in the 1930s, still nonhybrid, still finicky, still producing some of the most electric coffee on the planet. Ruarai's team hand-sorted every cherry, fermented with care, dried slowly on raised beds. You can taste that kind of attention. This one doesn't ease you in — it arrives.
Our first year working with the Umoco washing station continues our exploration of Burundi. Coffees from this region hold a unique place in the landscape of coffee, and we have come to love these profiles over the years. Nowhere produces coffees quite like those found around Lake Kivu in northwestern Burundi. In the cup we find dark fruit leather, black tea, and baking spice.
This is the first exportable harvest of the season from Victor Dota, and still one of the best representations of Mejorado from Ecuador. This lot comes from his tiny 0.5-hectare (1.2-acre) farm, which we are excited to see continue to mature. In the cup we find Key lime, floral botanicals, and ripe stone fruit.
A small cluster of producers in San Agustín, high in Huila's mountains, grew this. The coffee spent 24 hours in dry fermentation, then a slow 30-day rest on shaded raised beds — patience built into every step. Before it reached you, it made a stop at Descafecol in Manizales, where sugarcane from down the road was fermented into ethyl acetate and used to lift out the caffeine. What's left in the cup is the coffee itself: orange marmalade brightness, a dark chocolate base that keeps things grounded, and a strawberry note that cuts through like a bite of something real. Sweet, balanced, and unhurried — exactly what you'd expect from beans grown between 1,600 and 1,800 meters and handled like they matter.
If you've had Sweet Bloom's La Danta blend, you've already met Alejandro Padilla — you just didn't know his name. Now you do. He grows his coffee on El Cedro, a farm tucked into the cedar-lined hillsides of Cajamarca, and this is his solo debut. Crack open the bag and it hits you: dark, sweet, cola-like. In the cup, it's milk chocolate and ripe pear dissolving into a sweetness so deep and settled it feels almost architectural. This is a coffee you'll be halfway through before you realize you're already thinking about the next cup. That's not a warning. That's a recommendation.
Burundi keeps showing up and showing out, and Campazi is proof. This lot comes from smallholder farmers who haul their harvest to the Umoco washing station by foot, bike, and motorbike — the kind of origin story that actually means something. Crack the bag and the aromatics hit sweet and bright, like dried fruit tumbling into a citrus grove. In the cup: cassis and mandarin doing something elegant together, closing out with a honeyed finish that lingers just long enough to make you pour another. It's the Lake Kivu-Tanganyika region at its most expressive — refined without trying too hard.
Fruity, sweet, chocolatey — this one hits like a good dessert that somehow also works at breakfast. Sweet Bloom sources their decaf to deliver something that pulls double duty: runs beautifully through a drip machine, locks in as espresso. The decaffeination process uses ethyl acetate, a compound that occurs naturally in fruit and as a byproduct of fermenting sugar cane. The green coffee gets steamed, soaked to strip the caffeine, then steamed again — clean, simple, effective. What's left is a cup that's rich and easygoing in equal measure.
A peaberry with something to prove. Hirwa comes from the Rwamatamu washing station on the eastern shores of Lake Kivu, where a family operation — bolstered by daughter Bernice — is quietly raising the bar for the small-plot producers in their orbit. This little round bean punches above its weight: crack it open and the aromatics go straight to dark fruit territory before you even hit brew. In the cup it tastes like a fig Newton got a squeeze of mandarin and a splash of cola. Complex without being complicated. Delish is the right word.
This is the blend that makes you stop second-guessing your grinder and just drink the damn coffee. Hometown is built for espresso but flexible enough to pull serious duty as drip or cold brew — the kind of workhorse that never embarrasses you. The cup is chocolaty and full-bodied with a hit of berries and soft florals drifting in at the edges, like a dark truffle that wandered through a flower market. The acidity is there, doing its job, without making a scene. Behind the scenes, Sweet Bloom is quietly rotating fresh Colombian harvests from the Los Naranjos and Timanco groups in Huila twice a year, so this thing never goes stale on you. Ethiopian washed and natural lots fill out the rest — one bringing clarity, one bringing that low hum of wild fruit. It's a blend with a conscience and a backbone. No tired components, no filler. Just a coffee that shows up for you every single morning.
Another lovely pink bourbon lot from Jose Martinez, with lots of dark fruit notes and juicy acidity!
La Danta comes back every year like a friend who always shows up with something good. This Peruvian lot is grown with organic practices and dried on raised beds with the kind of patience that pays off in the cup. The grind smells like a flower shop that also sells fruit. Then you brew it and there it is — peach, cherry, sweet and floral all the way down. Clean, bright, and quietly stunning. If you think you know what Peruvian coffee tastes like, this one will politely raise the bar.
Gesha with a chip on its shoulder. Lito Cubas left his Paraguayan farm, got educated, came back, and decided his coffee deserved better — and he was right. This lot smells like a florist's shop and drinks like iced peach tea with a spoonful of raw sugarcane stirred in. Floral, balanced, and dangerously drinkable for a gesha that won't make you feel like you need to apologize to your bank account. Grab a bag. Grab ten.
Sweet Bloom won this lot at auction — and honestly, you can taste why they fought for it. Fresh off the grinder, it hits you with dark stone fruit aromatics that mean business. In the cup: plum, pomelo, brown sugar. Rich and juicy, like biting into a fruit that hasn't decided if it wants to be tart or sweet and lands perfectly in between. This is only Sweet Bloom's second offering from the DRC, sourced from the Muungano Cooperative — a producer collective that essentially said 'we're worth more than a midnight boat ride across Lake Kivu' and built a medical clinic and gender equity programs to prove it. Buy a bag because it's delicious. Feel good because it matters.
Our last offering of the season from Peru comes from the lovely Velo de Novia growing group in Cajamarca.
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