History

Story

Since I was a child, the aroma of coffee has filled my home. Every morning, like clockwork, my mother would get up and the first thing she did was put the coffee pot on the stove. That gentle bubbling sound, that rich scent… it was the soundtrack of our mornings.

The coffee pot stayed on the stove all day, every day — always ready, always warm. And every time someone came to visit, no matter the hour or reason, the first thing they were offered was a cup of coffee, or tinto, as we call it in Colombia. It was our way of saying: “Welcome. Make yourself at home.”

Ironically, I didn’t drink coffee growing up. I wasn’t allowed, and when I did try it later, I didn’t like it — it upset my stomach. So for years, my daily ritual was tea or hot chocolate every morning, sometimes even in the evenings. Still, coffee was always there — part of my world, my environment, my culture.

But everything changed the day my mother passed away.

CEO