The whole purpose of this event was to bring together people we've worked with for years and who have proven over time that they've got the necessary will and tools to produce incredible tasting coffees. Creating great coffees is a hard thing to do and the path to success is drenched with obstacles, many of which are functions of nature that are notoriously unpredictable. To make it work requires more than good technique—it requires a type of persistence and a borderline-silly level of passion for the craft. It is almost a given that there will be unforeseen environmental challenges…that's becoming part of the fabric of our 21st century world. Hurricanes, volcanic eruptions, endless rainstorms, temperature irregularities, and a volatile world economy that can triple the cost of raw materials (like fertilizers) amidst a growing scarcity of labor are enough to make anyone become a dedicated, if reluctant, fatalist.

But it is made to work somehow, and the credit goes to the visionary farmers who have learned how to adapt and who have the constitution to keep planning for the future despite the understanding that when dealing with agriculture (and especially agriculture in developing countries) even the best laid plans can be thwarted by climate events or political upheavals.

All the farmers invited to the workshop have worked with Intelligentsia for many years and have earned the right to call themselves artisans. Yet even the greatest among them can get better by paying attention to what others are doing and by collaborating with their peers. The point of getting everyone together was to begin to create a vibrant and dynamic network of coffee producers who understand that this thing we are all pursuing—this elusive, fragile thing called extraordinary coffee—is so complex and delicate that to really gain control over it means putting in the time and the effort and forgetting about the notion of any sort of "mastery." It is the small victories that bring satisfaction in a setting where we've all come to accept that there is no clear cut formula for producing real sensory beauty and no guarantee that it will work despite the efforts we put in. By sharing these experiences with one another we achieve a lot: validation that what we are doing is not crazy, inspiration in seeing the kinds of innovations that our comrades and peers have come up with, and a sort of serene comfort in knowing that we are not alone in this pursuit of sublime coffees. There is strength in numbers and incredible advantage to be found when collaboration replaces isolation.

Looking back at the event there are some tangible things that make me smile deeply. We succeeded in establishing bonds between producers across Latin America who got to know each other and found that the common paths we are on are even more exciting when we tread them in concert. We introduced some people who have worked most of their lives in coffee without really sipping from the chalice, so to speak—farmers who despite producing and being surrounded by incredible coffee had not yet become familiar with the delicate arts of extraction that are needed to bring all the glory out of the bean and into the cup.

And we deepened the connection between Intelligentsia staff and the growers we rely on to make this whole thing work. I've often felt like a walking bottleneck in the sense that I have been, in most cases, the sole node of contact between the Direct Trade farmers and the folks in Chicago, NYC, and LA who prepare, drink, and sell these incredible coffees. A lot of relevant detail gets lost in translation, and as I've slowly gotten to the point where managing relations in 18 countries has created a backlog of information transfer…almost like a long, winding queue in the neural networks of my mind, information just waiting for its turn to come into public view. Now we've taken some steps towards fixing that. Cell phone numbers and email addresses were exchanged, and with the help of my inspired colleagues at Intelligentsia, we are now going to be able to drastically shorten the connect between farm and cup by achieving a level of ongoing, year-long communication between the growers of DT coffees and the staff who display and represent the products of their work here in the US.

I'm stoked. This is yet another beginning, the next stage in our coffee evolution. My profound thanks to all who participated!

I have been at this awhile now, with many gray hairs among those still left to tussle each morning. I see photos of myself these days and ask, "Is that really me?" I look a bit weary as a lot has passed in this last twelve months (and the 42 years before that) and we have certainly gotten to places I never expected or even dreamed of. As much as I ask," Is that really me?" when I show up for some of the things we do and events we put on, I also sometimes feel as if I am outside of myself. I ask myself "is this my life?" and "when did all of this transpire?" and "how is it possible that we got here?"

Such were my feelings as last week's event unfolded in Colombia. The Extraordinary Coffee Workshop was utterly remarkable in so many ways. The coffee growers we work alongside of in Bolivia, Peru, Brazil, Colombia, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala all flew in to Cali, Colombia to attend the three-day event. (Some of the fine folks from some quality exporters were there, too.) We shuttled between Cali, Popayan and Finca Santuario in the Cauca Valley in Colombia. We spent time discussing a wide range of topics from how quality assurance works at Intelligentsia, to fertilization, to how the producers' coffees will be marketed and sold, to a very engaged home brewing seminar that everybody seemed to absolutely love (it doesn't hurt to have the vim and vigor of Sarah Kluth's presentation style either), as well as a walking tour of the farm that left everyone soaked after a drenching rain. Some of wandered off the path on that tour, got lost and even more soaked, but were then found and redirected by a stoic (but later smiling) soldier from the Colombian army. All of this was marvelous and gratifying, but really only (at best) half of what was great about this event.

Like most everyone who goes off to university or travels extensively around the world will tell you, the most interesting stuff happens not when things are planned but when they just happen. At meals, over drinks or a game of sappo, you could see the growers connecting and sharing excitement and knowledge in a way that I've never seen before. We always wondered why producers seem so glad to see us when a farm visit is made. It is because they are seldom, if ever, visited by others in coffee. It is because they are largely isolated, toiling for the most part in obscurity, never really connecting with anyone like them. They finally got to talk shop and work on their "game" with others. They may have started the week out as strangers, but they certainly left as friends looking forward to picking up where they left off next time they see each other. A number of questions were answered. A lot more were asked. With each step forward we learn how much we know and more importantly how much more there is to know.

The void, the gap between where coffee is grown and where it is sold just got a little bit smaller. Next year in El Salvador during harvest with this same group of growers and hopefully a few more, all friends, another tiny piece of the void will disappear.

What impressed me most about the event were the growers themselves. As it was our first year doing this, not all of the logistics were exactly perfect and we had many language differences. The growers patiently listened while I prattled on in my kindergarten-level Spanish. We all somehow managed to communicate even though some of us spoke only Portuguese and English, some only Spanish, and some only English. The days were long and some of the nights consisted of much less than a full night's sleep, but never once did I see any one of the growers looking frustrated, bored, or even mildly annoyed or disappointed. Never have I met or seen such a gracious group of event attendees. Their patience, kindness, passion and curiosity for everything we did were all incredible. I feel so grateful to have been able to meet and spend time with all of them. It was a great experience.

The Extraordinary Coffee Workshop was my first trip to South America and my first real encounter with the producers of the fine coffees we sell. As my role is in finance, I generally feel a disconnect with the "coffee side" of the business and spend most of my day at my desk reviewing accounts and paying bills, instead of cupping coffee. My coffee education to date has come from Geoff's writings on the political, social and agronomical states in producing countries.

The ECW has changed all of that for me. I learned much more about coffee and processing than I believe I ever could have from Geoff's writings, books, or any other resource. Talking to people who work with and love the coffee from the time it's a seedling has given me a new appreciation for the product we all work so hard to sell. Spending time with all of the gracious and kind producers was also as heartwarming as it was educational. I have never had the pleasure of meeting such a wonderful group of people, who share such an amazing bond in their passion for coffee. I cannot help but feel overwhelmed thinking about the respect and concern that everyone had for their peers. Because of the ECW I'm grateful to work in an industry whose members can display a true passion for their product and their community. Thank you.

It's one thing to prepare coffee for customers, coworkers, friends and relatives but it's quite another thing to prepare coffee for the very people who grow it. Brewing Chemex after Chemex, siphon after siphon, and Café Solo after Café Solo brought even more joy to me that usual. Not only was I able to interact with the remarkable people who produce our coffee, I was able to serve them, give back to them the very product they worked day after day for. For some reason, there was a lot of sentiment in that action for me – seeing the smiles on their faces when I would set a cup down in front of them and hearing the exclamations of enjoyment after their first sip. And I got to repeat this multiple times each day. It never grew old. I basked in it. In a small way, I got to give back. I got to work for them while just months ago they were working for us. I got to watch them fall in love with each cup. And to someone who falls in love with coffee on a daily basis, it was a terribly satisfying experience.