THE COFFEE

These Aren’t Coffee Farms

They’re hand-planted gardens of old growth heirloom Arabica Typica coffee trees scattered across steep mountain slopes

Organically Grown

Rain, soil, sun, and time. Organic because the land still is

1,300-2,000+ MASL

Slow ripening deepens the complexity. Old trees take their time. What’s produced out is wild, sweet and beyond compare

Shade from Yar and Albizia

Planted long ago—not for the shade label, but for the land

Where Coffee Ends, the Rainforest Begins.

This is what rainforest-grown is supposed to mean

The method Isn’t Modern. It’s Ancestral.

And outperforms the industrial playbook

Green hillside village with scattered houses and farmland, mountains with clouds in the background, and a partly cloudy sky.
A smiling woman carrying a large bundle on her head while holding a stick, standing on a rocky riverside surrounded by lush green vegetation. A makeshift bridge made of bamboo is seen overhead across the flowing river in a tropical forest.

The Storied Way Out

Getting the coffee out is its own epic story. There are no roads—just trails, rivers, ridgelines, and jungle paths. In some places, farmers carry 30kg bags of parchment for two days across mountains to reach the nearest road. In others, we charter small bush planes to fetch coffee from handmade grass airstrips cut into the mountainside. This coffee comes out the hard way—because there is no other way

A lush green mountainside with a tall waterfall cascading down into a small pool below, under a clear blue sky.
Aerial view of lush green mountains with dense forest and occasional small waterfalls, under a partly cloudy sky.

What the Industry Missed

Coffee this good doesn’t come from farms. It comes from place.

The coffee gardens are small. A few dozen trees, sometimes less. Planted by a father or grandmother a generation ago, and still fruiting today. They are heirloom Arabica Typica—an old variety, slower to ripen, lower in yield, but the best there is. The cherries they produce are big, sweet, and full of character. Not because of any processing trick or modern technique. Just because of where, and how, and by whom they’re grown.

There are no farms or plantations here. No neat rows of trees or irrigation lines. This is coffee grown beside family food gardens. It’s part of the same land that feeds the household. There are no fences. Just mountainside gardens, shaped by generations of tradition.

There are no chemicals here. Not because organic is a fad, but because there is no need for them. Chemicals have never been part of the equation—just soil, rain, sun and care. The coffee is organic because the place still is.

These gardens sit between 1,300 and 2,000+ meters above sea level. Cold nights slow the ripening. The altitude gives the cherries time. And the trees, many over 40 years old, take their time. They yield fewer, better fruit

Shade comes from Yar and Albizia trees—tall, soft-canopied species farmers planted to protect the coffee and strengthen the soil. Just past the last row of trees, the forest begins. Not a national park or a protected buffer. Just rainforest that is still part of daily life.

This is patient farming carried forward by people who know the land like a second skin. The quality isn’t surprising. What’s surprising is that no one tasted it sooner.