Of all the coffee-producing countries on the planet, Mexico has historically gotten maybe some of the least attention. Like many things in the world, it’s time to reverse those historical trends. If you want a brew that is super smooth, sweet, delicious, sustainably grown in a cooperative context, and mouth-wateringly memorable, make the move to choose this Mexican Chiapas next time you’re in. Seriously, it’s remarkable in a wide range of ways.
Information systems expert and author Elizabeth Fedden took a trip a few years ago to Chiapas. She came away with a much deeper understanding of the context in which coffee is grown in the region. She shares the story of asking one of the farmers what part of the work was the most challenging. Unexpectedly, he answered, “La historia.”
While the coffee we have on hand right now is gentle and smooth, the history of coffee growing in southern Mexico is anything but. Its past is one of pain and persecution that, like the farmer members of the coop, an increasing number of brave souls have turned many years later into something positive. James W. Loewen, a history professor who taught at the HBCU (historically Black colleges and universities) Tougaloo in Jackson, Mississippi, and went on to become one of the country’s leading academic experts on racism, writes, “The antidote to feel-good history is not feel-bad history, but honest and inclusive history.”
Coffee first came to Mexico in the late 18th century, around the time of the American Revolution. It was a colonial crop, with most of the work being done by Indigenous peoples while the wealth went to a small number of Europeans. German planters increased the amount of acreage under coffee significantly, but at the time most was grown in unsustainable mono-cropped settings. Forced labor continued in some communities up until the mid-’60s.
Exploitation and colonization are not, to be clear, the same historical pattern one sees everywhere in the food world. If you look at Greece, for example, where olive oil has been a matter of pride for millennia; it’s part of agriculture, religion, economics, mythology, and, of course, cooking. In the context of coffee, I experienced much the same pride in produce and place when I went to Ethiopia to teach ZingTrain courses in Addis Ababa about 10 years ago. Almost everyone there appreciates good coffee, it’s not hard to find, and its history is one of inspiring national identity and deeply felt positive energy.
Today there are over half a million coffee producers in Mexico, over three-quarters of whom are of Indigenous origins. Early 20th-century land reforms, the Mexican Revolution, and the Zapatista uprisings helped to shift focus back towards Indigenous farmers and more equitably organized and collaboratively grown coffee in the region. Near the border with Guatemala, Chiapas is one of the leaders in this progressive planting work. Elizabeth Fedden writes, “The new coops seek to bring back dignity to the Indigenous community by providing training on how to grow, process, roast, and serve their coffee.”
Most of this newly organized, sustainably grown coffee work is being done in much smaller settings, farms on which biodiversity is a big deal and old methods of agroecology (aka permaculture) are still being used. What we’re getting comes from a coop of small producers—nearly 900 of them—that is called Community Context. The coop was first founded in the fall of 2015, on November 18—the anniversary of the Mexican Revolution. The farms can all be found close to the town of La Concordia in Chiapas. There they are growing on nearly 2500 acres, most near the altitude of 1500 meters above sea level. Mexico Chiapas is a washed coffee—the fruit pulp is actively rinsed off with water—which enhances its light, clean, complex flavor. The resulting brew is sweet, full, almost almondy, hinting of maybe nutmeg and mace, and, as Steve Mangigian, the Coffee Company’s managing partner says, very cinnamony. Mexico Chiapas is terrific brewed as a pour-over; light, elegant, delicate, and delicious as an espresso. Sustainably produced and eminently sippable.
