Colombian coffee didn't become what it is today by accident. It evolved slowly, reactively and at times, out of necessity. Behind every cup is a series of decisions made by farmers balancing three competing forces: flavour, productivity and survival. In this article, we will be tracing Colombia's coffee story not through regions or processing methods, but through the culitvars that defined each era, from the foundational to the experimental and everything in between.
Typica: The Foundation
Typica is one of the oldest coffee varieties in the world, brought to Colombia by Dutch Jesuit missionaries in the 18th century. From a farming perspective, Typica is far from ideal. The trees grow tall, they have small yields, they’re fragile and they’re highly susceptible to disease. But for a long time, those limitations didn’t really matter because quality expectations were different and there was less pressure on production. Typica’s important because it’s effectively Colombia’s baseline, both in terms of genetics and cup profile. Every subsequent variety we discuss is, in some way, a response to Typica’s weaknesses: its low yield, its fragility, and its vulnerability to disease (such as leaf rust). Historically, this variety defined what ‘good coffee’ meant. Typica is characterised by clean cups, soft florals, bright acidity, and restrained sweetness. Nothing over the top, rather it’s about balance, clarity, and delicacy. Typica also shaped how Colombian coffee was grown and processed. Its tall structure encouraged traditional, low-density planting and manual harvesting, and its clean flavour profile paired well with washed processing. In some ways, Colombia’s reputation for clarity and balance came from Typica itself. Today, even when we taste modern varieties, we can still measure them against the understated qualities that Typica introduced.
Bourbon: Hello Sweetness
A natural mutation of Typica, one of the most popular traditional varieties in the world and a parent to many modern varieties. Bourbon emerged in the early 1700s on what’s now called Reunion Island (formerly known as Bourbon Island), and eventually made its way to Latin America in the late 1800s and early 1900s. When farmers encountered Bourbon, they quickly noticed that it seemed better adapted to cultivation at higher altitudes and, importantly, that it tasted sweeter. In Colombia, Bourbon became a benchmark for quality. At higher elevations it produced cups that were comforting, balanced, and sweet. However, back then, it also presented similar problems to Typica. Bourbon was still tall, still fairly low-yielding, and still very vulnerable to coffee leaf rust. That said, Bourbon represented a moment of sensory progress for Colombia. It demonstrated that quality could be improved through genetics, not just terroir, farming practices or processing. But it also highlighted a growing tension between flavour and economic risk. It was valued by farmers, however, its inability to pay off was becoming hard to ignore. By the mid-1900s, Bourbon, just like Typica, began to decline. Not because it tasted bad, but because it couldn’t support farmers on its own. Compared to Typica, Bourbon offers a rounder cup profile. Its sweetness tends more toward caramelly, honey, jammy notes with a silkier mouthfeel.
Caturra: Efficiency Meets Quality
Caturra marks one of the most important turning points in Colombian coffee history. Discovered in Brazil in 1937, it’s a mutation of Bourbon but with one critical difference: the tree grows short and compact. Caturra arrived in Colombia in the 1950s and spread rapidly through the ’60s and ’70s. Shorter trees meant easier harvesting and compact growth allowed for higher planting density. Caturra became one of Colombia’s dominant varieties because it began to mitigate some of the disadvantages of Typica and Bourbon. It still wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t rust-resistant, but it helped to establish a modern approach to production. This was Colombia acknowledging that traditional methods weren’t enough to sustain or grow its industry. Caturra’s rise also coincided with the growing influence of Colombia’s coffee institutions, in particular the National Federation of Coffee Growers, which promoted economic sustainability and productivity as priorities. Over the following decades, as global demand for coffee increased and the price of coffee became more volatile, Caturra offered a way for smallholders to stay competitive without abandoning quality. It became critical to Colombia’s mid-century expansion, when farmland was redeveloped, many farm practices were standardised, and the stage was set for the future development of hybrid varieties like Castillo. In terms of flavour, Caturra tends to be brighter and crisper than Bourbon. You’ll often find a sharper citrus acidity, lighter body, and a leaner sweetness.
Castillo: The Saviour
Castillo might be the most important coffee variety in Colombia today. It was developed by Cenicafé, Colombia’s coffee research institute, after devastating outbreaks of coffee leaf rust swept through Latin America in the late 20th century, which peaked in the late 2000s. During this time, entire farms were wiped out and Colombia lost up to 40% of its production. It was bred specifically to combat leaf rust, but it’s also high-yielding, and adaptable to different climates and altitudes. But for years, Castillo had a bad reputation in the specialty coffee industry. Early crops grown at low elevations and processed poorly led to flat, hollow, harsh cups that helped to fuel rumours that it was a Robusta-Arabica hybrid. Its strong resistance to rust and higher yields added to the perception that it wasn’t a true Arabica. Though, in reality, Castillo is 100% Arabica and over the years cup quality has improved dramatically. When grown at higher elevations and processed carefully, it can be clean, sweet, and balanced, and difficult to distinguish between Caturra and Bourbon in blind tastings. Castillo allowed hundreds of thousands of smallholder farmers to stay in coffee production during a prolonged crisis.
Pink Bourbon: Rediscovered
Now we step into the modern, flavour-driven era with Pink Bourbon. It was rediscovered by farmers in Huila and Tolima in the early 2000s when they noticed unusual trees growing among plots of Bourbon and Caturra that produced pink-coloured cherries. For years, they were being unknowingly mixed into other harvests, but when curious farmers picked them separately, what they tasted was unexpected. It was more aromatic, more complex, more expressive. Distinctly floral and complex, berry and stone fruit sweetness, sparkling acidity. Pink Bourbon represents a shift from prioritising yield and resistance to diversity and curiosity. It signals Colombia’s move from a prolonged period of economic recovery and pressure to experimentation and global recognition. Its rise to prominence also coincided with the growth of Colombia’s direct trade and microlot culture. As buyers began travelling more frequently to origin and paying premiums for unique flavour profiles, it finally gave farmers a financial incentive to separate, name, and propagate unusual or distinct plants.
Chiroso: A New Colombian Identity
Chiroso was discovered in Antioquia in the early 2000s, having originally been misidentified as Caturra. For generations, farmers propagated trees that produced good fruit, that handled the land and climate conditions well, and they replanted what worked. It’s likely that, for decades, Chiroso sat quietly among more familiar varieties, mistaken for Caturra simply because it looked similar. But the real surprise came in the cup. When farmers and buyers finally tasted it side by side, it didn’t drink like Colombian coffee at all. Instead of chocolate and caramel, it was floral, delicate and tea-like, drawing comparisons with Ethiopian coffees. That moment forced a second look, and Chiroso was immediately speculated to be an Ethiopian import. However, there’s no proof or record of its arrival. Between 2014 and 2017, competitions and specialty buyers brought Chiroso to international attention. Genetically-speaking, it does share characteristics with Ethiopian varieties and is linked to Gesha, which could explain its aromatic and tea-like qualities. Isolating and cultivating Chiroso is a true example of preferencing cup quality over pedigree and understanding the importance of genetic diversity in a coffee market that now demands so much more than reliability and cost-effectiveness.
Colombia’s coffee landscape isn’t defined by a single variety, flavour profile, or philosophy. It’s defined by change. Every cultivar tells a story. Not just of taste, but of adaptation, resilience, and ambition. And as producers continue to experiment, refine, and rediscover, that story is only getting more interesting.
