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What Makes Coffee Mexican?
Part 1 ~ Four Generations in Veracruz
In Veracruz, Mexico, coffee grows on farms that are cared for by the hands of locals. Beneath the shade of taller trees, coffee cherries grow and ripen on branches before being collected. Long before you sit down at your favorite cafe to enjoy a freshly brewed cup of coffee, there are plants to care for and fruit to harvest, amounting to nearly a year of work.
At Finca Corahe in Huatusco, Veracruz, that work is part of a family history spanning four generations. Marco and his brother currently manage the farm, with Rigoberto focusing on quality and operations while Marco handles administration and sales. “Nosotros somos ya la cuarta generación en producción de café,” explains Marco. For him, work on the farm forms part of a family tradition.
Veracruz is one of Mexico’s principal coffee-producing states, alongside Chiapas, Puebla, and Oaxaca. Within these regions, differences in climate, elevation, and farming practices make it difficult to describe “Mexican coffee” through a single set of tasting notes. Even coffees from the same state can taste different. To understand what reaches the cup, it helps to know what happens on the farm.
A coffee bean begins as a seed inside a fruit known as a coffee cherry. Its flavor develops through the variety of plant, the conditions where it grows, and the decisions made after harvest. Marco points to soil, elevation, fertilization, pruning, and the renewal of plants as influences on quality. Each involves care that continues throughout the year.
At Corahe, their geisha variety grows at 950 meters above sea level and is harvested by hand. Once picked, the coffee is sorted for optimal ripeness before fermentation and drying. Marco describes a process they call “Natural Honey,” combining anaerobic fermentation with controlled drying. For the geisha example he shared, fermentation lasts 80-120 hours, followed by about 95 hours of drying. The coffee then rests for roughly 45-50 days before an internal tasting determines whether it is ready or needs more time.
These stages help shape the coffee’s character. In a natural process, cherries dry with the fruit surrounding the seeds; in a washed process, much of that fruit is removed before drying. Different choices can produce different results. At Corahe, further sorting separates coffee by size, density, and color, before women from the local community make a final selection by hand.
There is labor in every stage, and risk alongside it. Marco describes the work on the farm, including tending plants, harvesting, monitoring processing around the clock, and protecting stored coffee from moisture and contamination. Wet weather can encourage coffee leaf rust. Dry conditions can delay flowering. A severe hailstorm can leave a producer without a harvest after months of care. “A veces los consumidores finales solamente se sientan en una cafetería, piden su café y lo disfrutan […] pero a veces no se dimensiona todo el proceso”, explica Marco. Behind every cup of coffee, Marco describes a lengthy process that is often overlooked. “Fue estar de sol a sol.”
What makes a coffee Mexican begins with where it grows, but its identity also takes shape through the people who nurture it. When asked what makes a coffee Mexican, Marco returns to the families whose income depends on it. He suggests that what makes coffee Mexican is knowing the people who work on the farm and are involved in the process well before the beans reach a grinder or your kitchen counter. Yet, the price of a cup of coffee does not reflect how much money reaches the producer. For a family carrying four generations of knowledge, this raises a difficult question: who will carry it into a fifth?
Marco says younger people are losing interest in farming because they do not see a profitable future. “Los jóvenes ya no quieren trabajar el campo y más que nada es por el tema de rentabilidad. No le ven futuro.” He explains that young people no longer want to work the land because they do not see a profitable future in it.
To continue the work into future generations, Marco suggests a joint effort be made across the coffee sector for fair compensation and prices that give producers a profitable return. In his view, a future in coffee depends on whether producers can earn a living from it.
Eventually, the coffee leaves the farm. It reaches roasters and cafés, where other hands shape what we taste. In Mexico City, its story continues at the counter and the table. What of the farm’s work travels with it – and what do we discover when we sit down to drink?
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