Varietals

The thing I love about the Typica variety is that it has this naturally floral, herbaceous character. It tends to be less chocolatey and a little bit more delicate. The acidities are lighter and more gentle, and the sweetnesses are less dense—more like a light, white-sugar sweetness.

They’re coffees that I think are just better at a lighter roast degree, where all of that delicacy can stay intact.

Typica itself is one of the most culturally and genetically important Arabica varieties in the world. It is a tall plant, generally low-yielding and highly susceptible to disease, but it is also known for producing very high-quality coffee, particularly at elevation. The cherries and seeds often have that slightly bigger, more elongated shape as well.

I particularly love Typicas from Ecuador. They have this tropical element to them that is really, really enjoyable—not just ripe tropical fruit, but almost a green-smelling tropicality, like pineapple, with something floral and herbaceous underneath it.

Sidra sits in a similar sensory category to Typica for me. They aren’t necessarily genetically related, but there is something similar in the way I experience them: that lighter sweetness, gentle acidity, florals, tropicality and overall feeling of delicacy.

Genetic work suggests that Sidra sits closer to Ethiopian landrace material than Typica. Whatever its exact origin, I particularly love Sidras from Ecuador because of that floral, tropical and delicate character.

Typica Mejorado literally means “improved Typica,” although genetic testing has shown that it isn’t actually a Typica descendant. It appears to be connected to Bourbon and Ethiopian landrace genetics.

Even though the name is misleading, Typica Mejorado still sits in that same sensory category for me. It can have that lighter sweetness, gentle acidity, florality, tropicality and overall feeling of delicacy.

Ombligón also sits in this broader sensory conversation for me, although its precise genetic identity is still not fully resolved.

It is another locally identified Colombian variety, particularly associated with southern Huila, and it is widely believed to have Ethiopian-landrace genetics. I think it is better to connect it to these coffees through the way it tastes rather than force it into a genetic family that hasn’t been completely established.

It is part of this really interesting pattern in Colombia where varieties have been noticed, named and propagated locally, and only later investigated genetically.

Arusha from Papua New Guinea can have similarities to that delicate Typica-like style as well. It is just a more herbal take on it.

There can be this almost sweet-fennel character and a kind of wispiness, while still having that same tropicality. There is sometimes this green-smelling tropicality, almost like pineapple, underneath the more herbal character.

They are delicate coffees, but not in a way that makes them feel empty. They’re gentle, aromatic and lightly sweet, with all of these small things moving around inside them.

The typical Caturra profile in Colombia is a unique one because I think the variety itself is quite mild. It has a good balance between fruity, stone-fruity and cherry-like tones, but there is also a good backbone of deeper sweetness.

At roast degrees that bring out more balance, that can become a caramel-type sweetness—rather than a very light white-sugar sweetness or a very dark sweetness.

Caturra is actually a natural mutation of Bourbon. It is a compact plant with average-sized beans and good yield potential, and it has been an incredibly important variety in Colombia. It is also capable of producing very good cup quality, particularly when it is grown at higher altitudes.

There is still a lot of complexity that can be had, but Caturra is a really great variety because it allows altitude and terroir to shine. It is almost like a really great base to start from if you want to understand what is happening with the land and with a particular region.

If you taste a Caturra from there, the variety itself isn’t so distinct and overpowering. It is actually much more balanced, so it allows a lot of the other elements to come and play into it.

That idea is also consistent with research from Cenicafé in Colombia. Across more than a thousand sensory evaluations, differences in acidity, body and aroma between Caturra, Typica, Bourbon and the Colombia variety were often small or inconsistent. When differences did appear, they were frequently connected more strongly to the way the coffee had been processed.

Processing can have a really nice influence on Caturra. With clean washed processing, it can be crisper and a little more malic, while still having that stone-fruity backbone. With more wet fermentation, it can become heavier, more winey and more grapey, and the cherry character can go deeper.

Sometimes, when that wet fermentation has gone too far, I find there can be this acidic element that turns a little bit olivey—like black olives or even Kalamata olives. That is not necessarily an inherent Caturra flavour, but something I find can become part of the profile as the fermentation becomes too intense.

Roast degree gives you another way of showcasing it. In darker roasts, the fruit can become deeper and more cooked, and the sweetness becomes heavier and more caramelised. In lighter roasts, the coffees can stay fresher, lighter and more vibrant.

There are multiple different ways that Caturra can be showcased, and that is what makes it such a good base. It has enough character of its own, but it still leaves room for the land, the altitude, the processing and the roasting to speak.

The same can kind of be said for Bourbon, or Red Bourbon, which makes sense because Caturra came from Bourbon in the first place.

Bourbon is also known for very good cup quality at higher altitudes. Red Bourbon itself is grown in Latin America, including Colombia, although it is less central there now than varieties descended from it, such as Caturra.

In Rwanda and Burundi, what is broadly called Bourbon is incredibly common, although much of it is Bourbon-related material, including selections such as Bourbon Mayaguez 71 and 139.

So it belongs in a similar conversation, but it isn’t always genetically identical to the Red Bourbon we might be talking about in Colombia.

Pink Bourbon is part of this really interesting group of varieties being found and named in different areas of Colombia.

It was first identified around Huila and was originally thought to be a cross between Red and Yellow Bourbon. But genetic testing found that sampled plants were genetically closer to wild Ethiopian coffee populations.

So the “pink” part describes the colour of the ripe cherry, while “Bourbon” appears to be a misleading name rather than its actual genetic family.

Pink Bourbon can be incredibly juicy. There can be a sweet bell-pepper or capsicum character, and sometimes something slightly vegetal within the tasting notes, but in general it can be really tropical and incredibly complex.

It can also be extremely manipulated through processing, probably because of the way some of those aromatics respond to fermentation. With heavy fermentation, those already distinctive characteristics can become much louder, more tropical and almost exaggerated.

But as a base, I think Pink Bourbon is at its most interesting when the variety is being showcased through a classic washed process with minimal fermentation. That is where you can really see how much complexity is already there without needing to build more flavour around it.

It also likes a slightly lighter roast degree if you want to get the maximum complexity from it. At a lighter roast, you can keep the juiciness, delicate aromatics, tropicality and even some of those interesting vegetal tones moving around together.

If the vegetal character is a little bit too strong, you can roast it slightly deeper. That tends to push the coffee more towards its heavily tropical side and soften some of the green or capsicum-like elements.

But it also makes the coffee a little more one-dimensional. The flavour becomes easier to understand, but some of that really interesting complexity gets lost.

Ají is often called Ají Bourbon, Bourbon Ají or Chilli Bourbon. It is particularly associated with southern Huila, around Pitalito and Bruselas, although it is now being grown elsewhere in Colombia as well.

Genetic testing reportedly places it within Ethiopian landrace material, with no direct relationship to Bourbon. Some people are now simply calling it Ají for that reason.

Its name comes from ají, the Spanish word used for chilli or pepper. The cherry and its mucilage can have this distinctive pepper-like aroma, and I sometimes find something similar in the cup—not necessarily hot chilli, but more like sweet bell pepper or capsicum.

The profile is incredibly juicy. It can have some vegetal characteristics, but it can also be very tropical and extremely complex.

Ají can be heavily manipulated through processing, probably because of the way some of its aromatics respond to fermentation. Heavy fermentation can make those already distinctive characteristics much louder, more tropical and almost exaggerated.

But I think it is most interesting when it is showcased through a classic washed process with minimal fermentation. That is where you can see the complexity already present within the variety without needing to build more flavour around it.

Ají also likes a slightly lighter roast degree if you want to get the maximum complexity from it. At a lighter roast, you can preserve the juiciness, delicate aromatics, tropicality and those unusual vegetal tones.

If those vegetal characteristics are a little bit too strong, you can roast it slightly deeper. That pushes the coffee more towards its heavier tropical character, but it also makes the profile a little more one-dimensional and less complex.

Even though Ají was found and named in Colombia, it appears to represent much older Ethiopian genetic diversity that has adapted to a particular Colombian region.

It is not really a Bourbon at all. It is a distinct variety that was noticed, named and propagated locally—and we are only now beginning to understand what it actually is.

Gesha is a variety that we invest a little bit more into.

I really fall into the camp that Gesha was ultimately made famous through the Panama Hacienda La Esmeralda Gesha. Panamanian Geshas are probably the most succinct, clear and distinct version of the Gesha profile that we know and love.

That profile is very tea-like, silky and intensely floral. I mean distinctly jasmine—almost star jasmine.

Occasionally, you can get a little bit more of that Earl Grey character, with a bergamot-like combination of citrus and florals. But it is predominantly jasmine, sometimes almost perfumey to a sickening extent.

It can be completely excessive, but it is also a delicious coffee, and we really love that profile.

The variety itself is an Ethiopian landrace. It was collected from Ethiopia during the 1930s, travelled through research stations in Tanzania and Costa Rica, and was distributed into Panama during the 1960s as accession T2722.

It wasn’t widely planted because the trees were low-yielding and had brittle branches. It only became famous after the Peterson family separated a high-altitude lot from Hacienda La Esmeralda and entered it into the 2004 Best of Panama competition.

Authenticated Panama Gesha is genetically distinct and unusually uniform, with exceptional quality potential at high altitude. Jasmine, delicate florals and peach-like aromatics are all recognised parts of its profile.

But the name Gesha is also applied to other coffees that do not necessarily share the exact T2722 genetics. Not every coffee labelled Gesha is automatically the same variety as Panama Gesha.

We really enjoy this profile from Colombia as well. Good Colombian Geshas can still have essences of that Panamanian profile—the jasmine, tea-like texture, florality and lighter stone fruit.

They also come in at a price point that makes them a much more affordable way to drink some really good coffee without splashing out on the Panamanian price tag, which can become very crazy and a little bit bizarre.

The best Panamanian Geshas are rare, low-yielding and grown in very specific high-altitude conditions. They are meticulously separated into small lots and sold into an auction market with enormous international demand.

Panama is also where the profile became famous and where the T2722 lineage has been very carefully preserved. So there are real reasons why they cost so much, even if the final prices can still feel disconnected from any normal way of valuing coffee.

For me, Gesha is usually best roasted as lightly as possible while still reaching full development—just enough development to get rid of any green flavours.

The florality, lighter stone fruit and tea-like qualities always shine most clearly at that lighter roast degree. Roast it too deeply and it can still be sweet and pleasant, but you begin to lose the exact qualities that made you invest more into Gesha in the first place.

SL28 is one of the classic Kenyan varieties and a big part of the profile that we know and love from Kenya: huge blackcurrant juiciness, plenty of sweetness and an acidity that is big and vibrant but also really well integrated.

SL28 was selected in Kenya by Scott Agricultural Laboratories during the 1930s, which is where the “SL” name comes from. It has a Bourbon-like genetic background, large beans and exceptional quality potential, although it is also susceptible to major coffee diseases.

For me, the classic profile is that big blackcurrant juiciness, but there can also be a tomato-like aspect. When roasted a little bit too lightly, that can be more like green tomato.

Sometimes it is more like cooked red tomato—very sweet, with some mild vegetal characteristics around it, like bell pepper or even asparagus.

When roasted well, though, SL28 can be incredibly sweet. That is what we really love about it: it is extremely juicy, big and vibrant, but the acidity is tied so well into the sweetness.

The acidity doesn’t feel separate or sharp for the sake of being sharp. It feels integrated, and that is what makes the coffee so enjoyable when it is presented and roasted well.

SL28 also roasts pretty easily for us. You can hit it with a lot of heat, put plenty of energy into it and develop it quite easily. It is really just about deciding where you want to take it in terms of roast degree.

When it goes a little bit too far and becomes too dark, the sweetness starts turning towards bitterness and burnt sugar. The acidity also changes.

For me, it can become more iron-like—almost blood-like—with this metallic flavour and characteristic that I find undesirable.

So we roast it at a pretty light degree, where the blackcurrant, sweetness and acidity can stay vibrant and integrated.

SL34 is the other classic Kenyan variety that is closely associated with that big, juicy and vibrant Kenyan profile.

It was also selected by Scott Agricultural Laboratories during the 1930s. Although SL28 and SL34 are usually spoken about together, they aren’t actually from the same genetic group.

Modern genetic testing places SL34 closer to the Typica genetic group rather than Bourbon. It has large beans and exceptional quality potential, but it is also highly susceptible to coffee berry disease and other major diseases.

In the cup, I find that SL34 can share the blackcurrant juiciness, deep sweetness and integrated acidity that we associate with classic Kenyan coffees.

There can also be those tomato-like characteristics. When it is too lightly roasted, that can present more like green tomato. When it is better developed, it can become more like cooked red tomato—very sweet, with some mild bell-pepper or asparagus-like vegetal characteristics around it.

When roasted well, the acidity and sweetness sit together. The coffee feels big and vibrant, but not sharp or disconnected.

Like SL28, it can take plenty of heat and develop quite easily. But when it goes too dark, the sweetness moves towards burnt sugar and bitterness, while the acidity can become more metallic, iron-like or even blood-like.

We prefer to roast it at a pretty light degree so that the juiciness, sweetness and acidity stay vibrant and integrated.

Batian is quite different from SL28 and SL34.

It is a much newer Kenyan variety, released in 2010 after being bred for disease resistance, good yield and good cup quality.

It is actually a composite variety containing ancestry from SL28, SL34, Rume Sudan, N39, K7, SL4 and the Timor Hybrid. That makes it genetically much more complicated than either SL28 or SL34 on its own.

In the cup, I find Batian super unusual. It is much greener in its profile, with more eucalyptus and these really left-of-field, green and herbaceous characteristics that are delicious but genuinely hard to describe.

It is still very juicy, but there is less of that distinct blackcurrant character. The juiciness feels more tropical, with things like papaya and pandan.

There can also be this creaminess—almost like custard apple—that comes through underneath it.

I find the profile far less conventionally acidic as well. There is less of that obvious citric acidity and less of the apple-like, malic acidity.

Instead, it becomes more about tropical juiciness, creaminess and these unusual green aromatics.

Batian doesn’t taste like a simple replacement for SL28 or SL34. Even though both of those varieties sit somewhere within its ancestry, it has its own unusual character.

It is greener, more tropical and more herbal, with a completely different kind of juiciness—and that is what makes it so interesting.