After nearly six weeks in Guatemala–the longest stretch I’ve ever stayed in a coffee producing country–I am now squarely back in the United States. Squarely seated on my sister’s couch in south Florida, sipping a freshly brewed cup of Eight O’Clock medium roast brewed on a Ninja automatic drip machine, with a healthy dose of half and half. At the risk of contradicting myself (cf: previous blog about every cup telling a story): I have no idea where this coffee came from.

Generally, I take great pains to find out the details of a cup of coffee I’m going to ingest. Because I know that each of the “beans” has come from a cherry which was likely handpicked and sorted and transported and hulled and washed and fermented and dried and milled and shipped across oceans, I firmly believe that it is my responsibility as a coffee drinker to investigate these details, at least to the extent that I can. So let’s take a look. I’ll get the package from my sister’s cupboard.

You’ve seen this packaging before. It’s in pretty much every grocery store aisle across the country. THE ORIGINAL! Big bold letters. Thirty ounces, almost two pounds. And on the bottom right (as well as the side panel): “100% Arabica.” For someone who’s looking for those shiny glossy beans, a nice photo right on top. I’m not sure what “the original” is referring to – the original coffee? the original what? – but the word evokes prestige, longevity, trust in a brand. My sister thinks she paid about $20 for it, which is roughly the going rate when I search online for this product.

The last sip from my mug, pretty cold at this point, comes with a bonus sprinkling of chocolate crumbs. Classic roasty coffee flavor mellowed by the cream, and the echoes of my sister’s homemade biscotti. For an afternoon pick-me-up, not bad.

Enjoying a natural process microlot on the shores of Lake Atitlan, Panajachel, Guatemala

But back to Guatemala. Probably more than 90% of the coffee I consumed there was produced there. For most of those cups, whether I was brewing them myself or purchasing them in local cafes, I could tell you exactly what region and possibly whose farm the coffee grew on. And that, I am acutely aware, is a luxury. It’s amazing–but for most coffee drinkers around the world, at least within the coffee supply chain we have now, it isn’t possible.

That leads me to the question: does it matter? Should everyone who drinks a cup of coffee require access to information about that coffee’s story, its traceability, its impact? It’s a value proposition, surely; the “should” is a matter of opinion. And in an ideal world, I would argue Yes. The source matters. The story matters, and coffee drinkers should be privy to the story.

But. There is more than one angle to consider. Let’s take a step back.

Washing a small batch of freshly harvested cherries at the farm of Dona Maritza Martinez

Many types of coffee are produced in Guatemala, as around the world. There are high-grown, prestige varieties that are fussy and temperamental and absolutely delicious when everything goes well. There are producers experimenting with extended fermentation and other complexity-enhancing processes. There are microlots and award-winning lots. They are handled carefully and roasted delicately and brewed with precision. I love these coffees; they are wild and surprising and fascinating and delicious…. to me. The final roasted products often come with price tags north of thirty dollars per pound, and often much more. Sometimes, at Higher Grounds, we have the chance to offer special coffees like these in our Apex Series.

Micaela Santiago Velazco, age 47, a member of Cooperativa Chajulense for 17 years

A lot of coffee grows on tiny plots (1-2 acres) owned by farmers in remote mountain regions with little access to agronomy expertise or technology. They are farming using methods passed down to them from their parents and grandparents. Many of them–if they are lucky–are members of cooperatives, which provide infrastructural support and market access. And if their farms are certified, they can benefit from fair trade and organic premiums that help keep their communities solvent (if barely). These coffees are received and processed and exported through centralized facilities run by the cooperatives. We visited the 100% organic Chajulense cooperative in remote central Guatemala, based in the town of Chajul and with member farms scattered within a six-hour radius in the surrounding mountains. These farmers are way out there, far from modern cities and amenities, and they are doing the best they can to produce coffees that match the tastes of their customers (for example, Higher Grounds), while functioning within a primitive lifestyle not much different than their indigenous ancestors.

AI-generated coffee estate image from Freepik.com

And big volumes of coffee grow on lower parts of the mountains, under less shade, on large estates. Robust, disease-resistant plant varieties yield big harvests, if at the expense of nuanced flavor. Farmers gather what’s left from their plants after the best quality cherries have been sorted out, and dump that mixed bag of cherries together with fruit from other farms and farmers. These batches are sorted less; they have more debris and more variability, and they are roasted very very darkly and usually ground to a powder and vacuum sealed and shipped on pallets to discount grocery outlets. Maybe they are twenty dollars for two pounds, or maybe cheaper than that.

Thankfully for everyone involved, there are many kinds of coffee drinkers in this world. Coffee producers tending coffee in the former category need coffee drinkers like me, the fussy ones, with enough disposable income to justify the premium expense, at least occasionally. Producers in the latter two categories also need customers. They need the grocery store coffee drinkers, the budget-conscious, those who prefer dark roasts (the dairy and sugar industries also like these people). Arguably, the latter two categories need a larger segment of the global population than the premium category–because for a lower price, a good income can only be made through high volume.

In Guatemala, each of these segments of the coffee industry is well represented, and just like most Venn diagrams, there is overlap across segments too. And just like here in the U.S., each segment is also represented in the consuming market. Specialty cafes selling premium coffees (with premium U.S. prices) are on every block in Antigua, and existing to a lesser degree but still present even in the smallest towns we visited.

In order for coffee to survive–and I’m not just talking about specialty coffee; I mean all coffee across all these categories–all of us need to keep buying it. Ideally more of it, and ideally at even higher prices across the board. I’ve written (and will continue to write) about the challenges faced by the coffee industry, particularly farmers; that’s a topic for another post. But the bottom line is that every time I’ve visited farmers and we’ve asked them, How else can we support you? What do you need?, they’ve answered: Buy more coffee. Whichever type of coffee you like, however you like to drink it, please just keep it up, and also please don’t flinch when prices go up a little (or a lot). Buy it as housewarming and birthday and anniversary gifts. Buy it for your mom and your sister and your uncle. Try different kinds, even if you’re going to return to your favorite. Even if your go-to is Eight O’Clock in the shiny red bag, don’t quit. Some vices keep the world running.

And if you don’t yet have a favorite, or you’re looking to try something new, or you’re just a little more curious about Guatemalan coffee now, here’s one to try.

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This piece also appears on Coffee Lady Missives, the Higher Grounds Learning Lab blog.