安田珈琲 / 沖縄

Deep in the forests of Yambaru, in the northern part of Okinawa’s main island, lies a place called Ada in Kunigami Village. This is where Taijiro and Yuko Tokuda grow coffee.

The couple originally came from Tokyo. They had no previous background in coffee, nor did they begin farming because they were particularly devoted coffee drinkers. When they first moved to Ada, they grew papayas. Alongside that work, they planted 30 coffee seedlings as an experiment in a field of roughly 330 square metres. Ada Coffee began from that small start. On approximately 26,000 square metres of farmland, they once grew around 800 to 900 coffee trees, the largest number they felt they could manage by themselves. Following an extensive renovation of the farm that began last year, the number of trees has now been significantly reduced.

When I first visited the farm, it felt very different from the “coffee farms” I knew. Coffee trees stood quietly among dense forest—or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it jungle. At first glance, they appeared to be growing wild among the trees. I still remember walking through the farm and finding it slightly strange that coffee was growing there at all.

The Tokudas began planting coffee around 2008. It reportedly took approximately six years before they were able to harvest their first fruit. On November 2, 2016, Ada Coffee received a score of 84.67 in an assessment by the Coffee Quality Institute and was recognised as specialty coffee, a distinction awarded only to high-quality coffee. This marked the first time coffee produced in Japan had received specialty coffee certification in Japan. Earlier that same year, in January 2016, the farm had also received JAS organic certification.

Their cultivation method is described as JAS-certified organic farming based on agroforestry principles. It is an approach in which coffee is grown as part of the forest ecosystem. In addition to coffee, the farm produces Ada Honey and cascara. The honey comes from naturally managed bees feeding on coffee blossoms, while the cascara is made from dried coffee cherries. Both seem to express the richness of the local ecosystem in a tangible form. The Tokudas continue to produce complex, fruit-driven coffee in a place where growing this style of coffee was once considered difficult.

Ada lies deep within the forests of Yambaru, an area registered as a UNESCO World Natural Heritage Site. The farm sits at the foot of Mount Ibu at an elevation of approximately 170 metres. It is not the kind of origin typically described in terms of the high altitude so often associated with coffee production. The soil is a red earth characteristic of Yambaru, known locally as Kunigami Maaji. It is clay-like and can be difficult to work with, but the Tokudas say that by gradually adding organic matter over time, it can slowly develop into the soft, fertile soil found in the mountains.

They told us that growing coffee in this environment is extremely demanding. The farm lies directly in the path of typhoons, the sunlight is intense, and strong winds blow throughout the year. Trees can sometimes be overturned entirely. One reason is the soil itself: the deeper the red soil goes, the denser and harder it becomes, making it difficult for coffee trees to establish their roots. We even heard stories of trees taller than a person that, once removed, were found to have been supported by only a very small root system. The farm uses clean water flowing down from Mount Ibu. Heavy rainfall and significant temperature differences are also distinctive features of the area.

Possibly because the coffee grows at such a low elevation, the green coffee we received had a density of approximately 700 and a moisture content of around 11 to 11.7%. Compared with the high-altitude coffees we normally work with, the density is relatively low. During roasting, the beans produced almost no audible first crack—the popping sound made as coffee expands during roasting. At times, it felt as though we might simply be scorching the beans.

Two Lots

No.3 
No.3 is a lot first developed in 2020. It is processed as a natural coffee with characteristics similar to anaerobic fermentation, producing an aromatic profile reminiscent of brandy and tropical fruit. When we first roasted this coffee, its low density meant that it was slow to crack. We decided to take the roast further than usual, which brought out ripe tropical fruit, a fermented sweetness resembling alcohol, and a substantial body. The fact that the coffee retained its character even at a deeper roast level made us feel that the beans had genuine potential.

赤チチ / AKATITI 
AKATITI means “dawn” in the Okinawan language. It is a clean coffee with rich sweetness reminiscent of dried fruit, nuts, and brown sugar. It also has a gentle acidity, making it easy to understand why it is recognised for its clean cup. Its character is not immediately showy, and it may be the kind of coffee whose appeal cannot fully be explained without tasting it.

The name AKATITI refers to dawn, or daybreak, in the Okinawan dialect. It was named by Yoshiyuki Nakamura of the Okinawan coffee shop Mame Polepole, with the idea of representing “the dawn of Okinawan coffee.” The name evokes the farm on Okinawa’s eastern coast as the sun rises, the scent of morning dew, and the sense that the story of Ada Coffee is only beginning.

The processing methods used for both Ada Coffee lots differ from conventional washed or natural processing. The Tokudas approach processing with two main goals: achieving consistency during Yambaru’s rainy harvest season, and drawing out the fullest possible expression of the harvested fruit.

赤チチ / AKATITI is produced using a pulper modified from a sugarcane press. The fruit is worked back into the coffee seeds during processing. As the depulped fruit and seeds are kneaded together, they gradually form a dark, purée-like mixture, which is then fermented as a whole. It may be a processing method with almost no equivalent elsewhere in the world. Because some of the fruit is removed, it can technically be described as a pulped natural process. However, since the coffee is fermented together with the fruit, its character also shares similarities with a natural process.

No.3 is a fermented natural in which the whole fruit is dried and fermentation is used to develop the flavour. The Tokudas remain closely involved with the coffee throughout every stage of the process. No.3 makes it clear how carefully they manage the fermentation stage, which is notoriously difficult to control. Its refined, clean fermentation character never becomes excessively aromatic. Instead, it gives the coffee a beautiful and unmistakable sense of body and layered complexity. I do not usually prefer coffees with a pronounced fermented character, but the Tokudas’ coffee feels distinctly different from coffees of that kind.

I first encountered Ada Coffee in 2016. Through Kojima, who was then FUGLEN’s representative, and Chef Namae of L’Effervescence, I learned about the Tokudas and their coffee, which had become the first coffee produced in Japan to receive specialty coffee recognition.

To be honest, I did not fully understand Ada Coffee at the time. I was mainly interested in coffees that were obviously fruity, vibrant, and immediately recognisable as delicious. The Tokudas had roasted a sample using a borrowed sample roaster and let me taste it at the roastery. I remember saying something along the lines of, “It may be clean and pleasant, but I do not really detect much flavour.”

Five or six years later, shortly before the opening of FUGLEN SANGŪBASHI, the coffee reached us again. I visited the farm and met the Tokudas for the first time. By then, I had begun visiting producing countries myself to purchase coffee, and I remember feeling unusually nervous about meeting Japanese coffee producers for the first time. At the time, most of my sourcing trips were to Africa, and compared with farms located at elevations of 1,600 to 2,000 metres, the idea of growing coffee in Okinawa’s climate seemed almost irrational.

When we visited again in the second year, there was almost no harvest. Both of them appeared to be going through an extremely difficult period, and they also seemed apologetic. It was then that we truly experienced, both physically and emotionally, the obvious reality that coffee, as an agricultural product, is not something that is always available. From that point, my values surrounding coffee began to change quietly and gradually. We purchase tens of tonnes of coffee each year, but even the absence of a single cup of Ada Coffee cannot be replaced by another coffee. Over time, I began to feel the same way about other coffees as well.

When we thanked them for the previous year’s harvest, we learned that news of how much customers at FUGLEN had enjoyed Ada Coffee had reached the Tokudas through social media and word of mouth. That made me very happy. The more time we spent talking with them, the more drawn we became to the two people who had chosen to grow coffee in this place.

Our visit in 2025, left, and this year’s visit, right.

On one occasion, Mr Tokuda told us something that stayed with us.

“We may have a relationship as producers and roasters, but coffee is growing in this place called Ada, and we are simply a strange circle of people sitting together around Ada Coffee, enjoying how interesting and delicious it is.”

He then said that he wanted us to help share that enjoyment with others. We found his way of expressing it deeply meaningful, and it made us want to take part in that same spirit. The coffee itself has also undoubtedly changed. Perhaps the trees have matured, perhaps the land has matured, or perhaps both have. Even the person I was ten years ago would now be able to find a clear flavour character in today’s Ada Coffee.

The way Ada Coffee is priced is fundamentally different from most other coffees. In many cases, producers cannot simply decide, “This is the price at which I want to sell my coffee.” Prices are shaped by the international market and by the various stages through which coffee passes, including exporters and cooperatives. Ada Coffee is almost entirely disconnected from that global market. The Tokudas themselves determine the price required to maintain and continue operating the farm. Even across all the relationships we have developed through our work, this remains an unusual kind of coffee partnership.

Recently, I have often found myself thinking about what deliciousness and quality in coffee actually mean. Coffees that receive high cupping scores tend to have clearly defined flavours, complexity, and a clean cup. These are, of course, genuinely remarkable qualities, produced through the strength of the land and the efforts of the producers. Yet I also feel there are coffees that contain just as much work and expression of place, while not necessarily fitting neatly within that system of evaluation.

Ada Coffee may not be a coffee defined by dramatic flavours. Yet it is grown in Yambaru, Okinawa, Japan, with an intensity and level of care made possible precisely because the harvest is so small. Its quality is unquestionable. We may not yet fully understand why this coffee is delicious, but for us, that uncertainty is part of what makes it so interesting and valuable.

The Tokudas have said, “Of course we want to create coffee that is delicious to the tongue and nose, but we also want to go beyond intellectual understanding and produce coffee that reaches the heart.” We do not want to present Ada Coffee simply as the novelty of “coffee from Okinawa.” We want customers to first understand that it is coffee made by Taijiro and Yuko Tokuda, and only then discover that it happens to come from Ada in Okinawa. That would be the ideal order in which the story reaches them.