07/22/2026
Today we are releasing a special coffee from our friend and producer Alejandro Reynoso. We've had the opportunity to visit Alejandro's farm in Guatemala many times over the past few years and on one of those trips my 16 year old daughter tagged along. I wanted you to hear from her and get a glimpse into the coffee you are supporting. We also shot a video of the farms and our trip that's attached below.
One Dedicated Man: The Trip to Alejandro's Farm
“So, what did you think of the farm today? Did anything surprise you?” My dad prompted my sister and me as our van lumbered down the bumpy dirt path. “It was so . . . small.” I replied.
Not the most profound reflection on my first coffee farm visit, but an honest one. To get to Alejandro Reynosa’s farm, we had woven through the traffic of Guatemala City, jostled down a rough back road for a couple of hours, and climbed up a winding mountain road. I imagined a set of heavy metal doors swinging open to reveal a sprawling farm that teemed with workers and grandiose machinery. To my surprise, however, the farm we entered was much more modest. Alejandro - a gentle, strong man with a soft smile – introduced us to his wife and kids, shook our hands, and offered to give us a tour of the farm.
We spent the next hour hiking up steep mountain trails, with Alejandro motioning toward hundreds of dark shrubs that clustered the terrain. These bushes were studded with coffee cherries, some deep red and others a lighter rose. In broken English, Alejandro explained the tedious processes that he had dedicated himself to for years. Weeding out the ripe cherries from the premature ones, collecting them into burlap sacks, and hauling these sacks down the steep, rocky mountain. Then, he would dry, turn, and hull the beans beneath the sweltering sun. I still remember the pride spreading across Alejandro’s face as he showed us his hulling contraption – a mixture of miscellaneous metal slats he had fashioned together himself. This contraption was all that existed of the “grandiose machinery” I had imagined. No robots to pick the beans or mills to sort them apart or turbines to dry them. Just one dedicated man, a handful of diligent workers, and the natural conditions of the Guatemalan hillside.
After the tour, Alejandro’s wife invited us into their home and served us a hot meal of fried pork, fresh guacamole, and a special drink called “jaimaica,” made from dried hibiscus leaves. During the meal, my sister and I chatted with Alejandro’s kids – Christina, Daniel, and Emma. Although we spoke in broken Spanish and they in broken English, we were able to converse about everything from their passions for farming to the popular shows they enjoyed.
The trip held many powerful moments for me, but this visit was particularly sacred. When you work at a coffee shop, it’s so easy to get lost in the motions of grinding and preparing the coffee that by the time someone asks, “What do you think about the Guatemala Alejandro variety?” you don’t seem to have much to say. But when you’ve watched a generational farm owner haul sacks of coffee down a steep mountain and shared a meal inside their humble, hand-built house, and laughed with his kids over The Summer I Turned Pretty, it’s impossible to say something like, “Oh, that one’s fine.”
