If wine can taste of the place it comes from, why did we assume for so long that coffee tastes only of coffee? Probably because the largest part of modern consumer history was organised specifically to prevent us from noticing the differences. Specialty coffee did the opposite: it began to preserve them.
That is why we can now see Ethiopia, Brazil, Colombia or Kenya on a menu as something more than a geographical data point. Origin can give us an idea of what to expect in the cup — but it is important to understand what that word actually contains.
It is not the country that has a flavour. Flavour emerges from an entire system.
The plant has genetics. It grows at a particular altitude, in particular soil, temperature and rainfall. The fruit ripens at a particular rate. The producer decides when to pick it and how to process it. Then come drying, storage, transport, roasting, water and preparation. When we say that Ethiopia tastes like this, we are condensing a very long sentence.
James Hoffmann organises much of The World Atlas of Coffee by country and region — not to create a horoscope for beans, but because geography is the starting point for understanding varieties, production traditions, climate and processing methods that are more common in certain places.
Ethiopia is a particularly good example. The country is considered the birthplace of Coffea arabica and possesses an extraordinary genetic diversity of coffee. The term Ethiopian heirloom, long used on packaging, can in fact conceal a large number of local varieties and populations. In some Ethiopian coffees you can find very floral, citrusy and tea-like profiles; others — certain natural lots in particular — can be intensely fruity.
But Ethiopia is not one flavour either. Yirgacheffe, Sidama, Guji and other regions can produce very different coffees, and the processing method can shift the experience almost as dramatically as geography.
Brazil is a different kind of giant. It is the world's largest coffee producer, and that scale alone makes any simple rule suspect. Nevertheless, many Brazilian specialty coffees that reach European cafes carry a profile that people describe through chocolate, nutty tones, caramel and a lower, more rounded acidity. Such coffees often work exceptionally well as espresso and with milk precisely because they offer familiar sweetness and body.
If you want to show someone for the first time that specialty coffee need not be acidic, a good Brazil can be far more persuasive than ten minutes of theory.
Colombia is another example of why national stereotypes break down quickly. A mountainous landscape, a large number of microclimates and harvests at different times of the year enable enormous variety. You can find very classic, balanced profiles — but also strikingly fruity, complex coffees from contemporary processing methods that someone in a blind tasting would struggle to place within their old idea of Colombian coffee.
This brings us to terroir — a word borrowed from the wine world because we have no better one.
The idea is simple: place leaves a mark on an agricultural product. Climate, soil, altitude, aspect and local ecosystem all affect the plant. In coffee, that signal then intersects with the genetics of the variety and the enormous influence of human decisions made after harvest. Terroir is therefore not destiny. The same region can produce different results, and processing can amplify certain characteristics or completely transform our sensory experience.
Altitude is a good illustration of how simple rules can become marketing. It is often said that coffee grown at higher altitude is automatically better. Cooler temperatures can indeed slow ripening, and that is associated with bean density and the development of certain characteristics. But an absolute number does not carry the same meaning everywhere. Latitude and local climate change the conditions, so 1,500 metres is not a universal code for quality.
Variety is the other major piece of the puzzle. Gesha has become almost a celebrity among varieties because of the highly aromatic and floral profiles it can express in the right conditions. Bourbon, Typica, Caturra and dozens of others each have their own genetics and agronomic characteristics. But even the most celebrated variety does not guarantee an excellent cup. Poor cultivation, picking, processing or roasting can readily exhaust whatever potential existed on the farm.
And then comes processing.
Washed coffee from one region and natural coffee from the same farm can be different enough that an inexperienced guest treats them as two different origins. Fermentation has further expanded the spectrum in recent years: anaerobic, carbonic maceration and various controlled fermentations can create very intense profiles. That is an exciting part of contemporary coffee, and also a reminder that the flavour of an origin is never simply the flavour of a country.
Roasting is the last great translator before the bar. If every bean is roasted very dark, differences in origin become less visible because the flavours generated by intense roasting begin to dominate. A lighter approach can preserve more of the raw material's character — but even here, lighter is not automatically a synonym for better. The goal is for the roast profile to work with the coffee you have.
It is therefore probably the wrong question to ask which country has the best coffee.
The better question is what flavours we love.
If you love chocolate, hazelnut, caramel and fuller body, you may find yourself repeatedly drawn to certain Brazilian or similarly profiled coffees. If floral aromas, citrus and tea-like elegance appeal to you, some Ethiopian coffees can open an entirely different world. If you want something wilder, fermented and tropical, processing method may become a more important clue than the flag on the bag.
And once we start noticing these differences, something interesting happens. Coffee stops being divided only into good and bad, strong and weak.
It starts to have character.
That is probably one of the most valuable things specialty culture has brought to everyday coffee drinking. You do not need to become a Q-grader or memorise the Coffee Belt. It is enough to try two very different coffees side by side.
After that, geography is no longer just text on a bag.
Try it at VERA — specialty café and wellness bistro, Nikole Spasića 4, Stari Grad, Belgrade.
Specialty coffee at VERA →