The silhouette of the twin volcanos were ever present on the skyline wherever we went, familiar to us from the stencils on our sacks of coffee back home but now endowed with greater meaning, as we checked the horizon to see if Fuego was still awake. Back on the road again we left the coffee highlands on tracks that saw little traffic and made our way through lowland settlements on smooth highways, before climbing again into patches of organically farmed rainforest, past the faded splendour of an old coffee haçienda, to the elegant sun-drying patios in the flat spaces between the hills. Past the slash and burn of the lowland farmers and the sacred Saiba tree, that even today can never be felled, a legacy of the ancient Mayan civilisation, now enshrined in modern Guatemalan law. Such is the lasting sense of respect commanded by these leviathans of the forest.
At the lab in the
Fedecocagua warehouse, Gustavo, surely the loudest whistler in the world of coffee, had prepared our cupping table. Belying this auditory flamboyance lies a deep expertise of these coffees. He’s been cupping here for 30 years, so when Gustavo highlights certain farms, they're likely to be the best of the best. His is a palate so finely tuned to his terroir that we trust its veracity and wouldn't presume to question it. These are farms that are singled out for segregation, from the basket of coffees that usually go through this huge mill. They are the ones deserving of special treatment, higher prices and value added for a job well done. I was drawn to one in particular, with the beguiling name of ‘Pensativo’ - meaning: Thoughtful…