For decades, Colombia has been the Beyoncé of the coffee world a global superstar, churning out smooth, rich Arabica beans for the adoring masses. But while the rest of us were sipping silky Colombian roasts in Paris cafés or Brooklyn brunch spots, the people who actually grew the beans were stuck drinking something more akin to bitter bean broth.
It’s the caffeinated equivalent of being a Michelin star chef who comes home to instant noodles. Twice a day.
Colombia, the third largest coffee producer in the world and home to some of the finest Arabica on Earth, has spent years exporting the good stuff while consuming… well, not-so-good stuff. In fact, for much of recent history, Colombians were stuck sipping tinto a local style of coffee that roughly translates to “inky water.” You don’t need a barista badge to know that’s not a ringing endorsement.
“It came as a shock, having a good cup,” said Cesar Parra, a lifelong tinto drinker who only discovered real Colombian coffee during a barista masterclass. “All my life, I’d been drinking bad coffee.”
Join the club, Cesar. Colombia’s domestic brews have long been what’s left over after the A-grade stuff is shipped off to Europe, the US, and Japan. It’s like living next to a vineyard but only being offered boxed rosé from a petrol station.
The Economics of Export (a.k.a. Why the Good Beans Left)
The problem isn’t that Colombia can’t make excellent coffee it does, in spades. The issue is that 75% of it is exported, often to nations where the most exotic thing in the pantry is a turmeric latte. For the Colombian economy, this is no small thing. In 2013 alone, coffee contributed to a staggering 43% of growth in value-added crops, with farming GDP growing 8% compared to the previous year.
Which is great until you realise that economic boom came at the cost of Colombians drinking beans that were often imported from Vietnam. Yes, you read that right. Vietnam. Not exactly what you’d expect when your own country is on the coffee podium next to Brazil and Ethiopia.
For years, good coffee in Colombia was a luxury something found in boutique cafés catering to tourists, expats, or people on first dates trying to impress someone who claimed to “really taste the flavour notes.”
Coffee: A National Treasure That Rarely Made It Home
Colombians aren’t just casual coffee drinkers coffee is woven into the country’s identity. It’s their number one export. It employs thousands of farmers. Former president Juan Manuel Santos even represented the national coffee federation at international summits, like some kind of caffeinated diplomat.
And yet, despite all this bean-based glory, locals often couldn’t access or afford the beans they’d watched their neighbours harvest. Imagine Picasso painting the Sistine Chapel and then being handed crayons at home. (Yes, we know Picasso didn’t paint that. You get the point.)
The Brew Awakens: Colombia Finally Starts Drinking Its Own Coffee
But hold onto your French presses — the tides are turning. Colombia is finally starting to fall in love with its own brew. As Vice recently reported in Colombia Is Finally Starting to Drink Its Own Coffee, a café renaissance is underway.
Foreign investors, globe trotting entrepreneurs, and a generation of homegrown coffee evangelists have helped spark a new appreciation for local beans by locals. Hundreds of new cafés are opening in Bogotá, Medellín, and even smaller towns, offering drinks that actually taste like something you’d want to drink.
Domestic coffee consumption is on the rise, and no one’s confusing tinto for a real brew anymore. These aren’t just coffee shops they’re bean fuelled social hubs. Colombian coffee culture is no longer an export only affair; it’s finally, gloriously, coming home.
So next time you’re sipping your ethically sourced, rainforest certified, barista-swirl-topped Colombian flat white, raise your cup to the farmers who can now enjoy their own brew not just the bottom of the pot.
Because nothing says justice quite like the sweet taste of your own world famous beans.
