
The Field Blend is a blend made by the two of them — one born from chance, and carrying a flavor all the more wonderful for it.
At Finca El Puente, they grow a wide range of varieties from the seedling stage — SL28, Ethiopian Heirloom, Batian, Geisha, and more — experimenting with them across their multiple farms. This blend began when, as they usually do, they had leftover sample roasts of various varieties prepared for roasters, and on a whim decided to blend them together for their own morning coffee.
The result was, unexpectedly — or rather, beyond all expectation — an extraordinary cup. Afterward, they carefully worked out the proportions and decided to offer a very small quantity to roasters as a special lot. We were honored to be among those contacted, and were able to purchase two burlap sacks' worth.
The blend consists of three varieties: SL28, born in Kenya; an Ethiopian indigenous variety; and Geisha. We do not blend coffees from different origins or farms, but in cases like this one — where the producers themselves have created a blend of different varieties — we made an exception. Simply put, we wanted to go along for the ride with their playful spirit.
What makes a blend different from a single origin — in the sense of a single farm, single variety — and what makes it interesting? I think it's the way the cup changes its expression every time you drink it.
The composition within the lot is fixed, but how much of each variety ends up in the cup you're drinking at any given moment can only be imagined — and it's different every time. Because of that, sometimes one variety asserts itself strongly, and sometimes another. Thinking, "I wonder which variety this flavor comes from…" and letting your imagination wander — that, I've come to feel, is what makes a blend interesting, even for someone like me who doesn't usually drink them.
The aim behind the experimental variety cultivation, they say, is to observe how different varieties adapt to the Honduran growing environment. Coffee varies not only with land and climate, but also in the care that each variety's trees require. Moises pays attention not only to cup quality, but also to the balance between ease of cultivation, labor costs, and cup quality — always searching for ways to grow coffee with less burden.
In Central America, emigration to the United States in search of higher wages is increasing, and securing pickers for cherry harvest as well as staff at the mill is becoming a latent challenge. Looking ahead to these issues, they have already begun various initiatives — experimenting with new varieties, automating mill operations — addressing potential problems before they become acute.
This year marks 30 years since Marysabel and Moises began farming together. And even now, 30 years on, their gaze is fixed on the farm as it will be in the future.


During my visit to their farms and facilities, I walked through several plots at varying altitudes and witnessed firsthand the reality of the coffee farming the two of them face every day. Walking through the farm, which seemed as though it had always been part of the forest, Moises spoke to me about his philosophy: "returning the land to its original state." A forest where diverse plants and animals live can recover on its own even when damaged. But land planted only with coffee has no cycle of its own and cannot recover by itself. That is precisely why, he told me, they are putting energy into cultivating the surrounding ecosystem and working to restore it to its natural form.

The double-bag system used at harvest was also striking. Pickers carry two bags — one dedicated to fully ripe cherries, and the other for overripe or underripe ones. For the skill of selecting only fully ripe cherries, they are paid above-average wages. The processing facility is kept spotlessly clean, and at the end of each day's work every piece of equipment is thoroughly cleaned without fail. It is not unusual fermentation techniques or special equipment that produces high-quality coffee — it is disciplined, careful work that stays true to the fundamentals. I was deeply impressed by that thoroughness.

When the burlap sacks arrive at the roastery and we open them, we are always struck by how uniform the coffee is in size and condition. I still remember vividly the first time I opened a sack of El Pantanal — the emotion I felt seeing it in such a beautiful state even before roasting. It is proof that every step, from harvest to processing to sorting, is managed at an exceptionally high level.
Though grown in the same Marcala region, each of the three coffees comes from a different plot with different varieties, giving each one a distinctly individual character. Yet there is a tone they share in common. That, I believe, comes from the terroir of this land, and from the care that the two of them put into every cup they make.
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