Costa Rica – The History of the Micro Lot Revolution

We’re sitting in a small, rickety plane from a Central American airline—our fifth flight on this trip, taking us from David in Panama to Costa Rica. Unfortunately, it’s another one of those extremely turbulent flights with an over-the-top, ice-cold air conditioning system. We’ve spent the past two weeks chasing the best and most exotic harvests in Central America. I’ve been traveling to coffee-growing countries for over ten years, but there’s always something new to discover. And this trip is no exception—beautiful, insightful, and one that will take a particularly special turn for me personally.

Once we arrive in the capital, we hop into a pickup truck and make our way through the Tarrazú mountains into the Chirripó region. Through a longtime friend and coffee farmer from our SUPREMO Direct Trade program, "Microlot Challenge," I got in touch with Luis Alberto, a coffee grower in the Tarrazú mountains.

He’s our next stop. Among many other varieties, Luis Alberto cultivates a Typica mutation that tastes reminiscent of the famous Geisha variety—only a little sweeter and fuller. Since there’s no official name for this coffee, we call the microlot "Monster Typica."

In recent years, terms like microlot, micromill, and, of course, direct trade have firmly established themselves in the vocabulary of coffee enthusiasts. But how did this all come about?

No region has shaped this development quite like Central America—especially Costa Rica and Panama. In the 1990s, a handful of massive coffee mills (processing facilities for coffee cherries) controlled the entire market, and Panamanian coffee was simply traded as "Mild Central-American Arabica." Everything back then was geared towards bigger, more centralized, and more standardized production.

But even then, some coffee farmers and industry insiders were beginning to toy with ideas that would eventually drive the market—and the entire industry—in the opposite direction. With the turn of the millennium, the micro-mill revolution officially began.

One of the pioneers of this movement was the micro-mill "La Familia" in San Lorenzo, Tarrazú—considered the first micro-mill in Costa Rica. Its remarkable success inspired many more micro-mills across the country. But it wasn’t just a role model—its eventual downfall due to overexpansion and miscalculations also serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of being blinded by success and money. Today, only rusted fences and the remnants of old machinery hint at the revolution that once started there.

Not far from this historic site live the brothers Luis Alberto and Oscar Monge. Their coffee trees grow on extremely steep, high-altitude slopes, producing rich, sweet cherries year after year.

After much deliberation, the brothers decided in 2007 to break away from traditional routes and start their own micro-mill, "La Lia," named after their mother.

Of course, such an endeavor is costly and highly risky.

How and to whom should they sell their coffee? How good is their coffee, really?

These and many other questions kept them up at night. 2007 also marked the first time the Cup of Excellence coffee competition was held in Costa Rica. Among the international jury members were Bernd Braune and Bianca Kulik from our still very young coffee roastery, SUPREMO, near Munich. During the live auction that followed, the winners achieved record prices for their coffees—prices that had never been seen before.

Luis and Oscar saw the competition as their chance to prove the value of their coffee and, if they won, to pay off their loans. They quickly decided to submit their harvest to the Cup of Excellence the following year.

Despite tough competition, their coffee advanced through the national jurors, then through the international jury, eventually making it to the finals—and ultimately placing in the top ten among the 30 winning coffees. A truly special year for Luis and Oscar. Since then, the two brothers have continued to produce coffee of the highest quality. For SUPREMO, this was also a milestone year in terms of the Cup of Excellence. With great enthusiasm, we successfully bid on the first three Costa Rican winning coffees ever to be imported to Germany.

But let’s fast forward to the present.

After about two hours on the road, we’re now driving along a mountain ridge to meet Luis and his son at a small restaurant.

Rounding a bend, we spot a tiny hut—the only building in sight. We park and step inside. The "restaurant" looks like a mix between an old-fashioned general store and an improvised food stall. "No food today!" a voice calls out from behind the counter. An elderly woman emerges and sizes us up. Apparently, I look particularly hungry, because she changes her mind and asks, "You really that hungry? … Alright, I’ll make you something. Sit down."

By now, Luis and his son have arrived and greet us warmly. It doesn’t take long before we’re deep in conversation over our meal, discussing the evolution of the coffee market and how grateful Luis is for the opportunity to sell his coffee directly today. In the middle of our talk, Luis gets emotional, repeatedly thanking us for buying his coffee. "It meant so much to my brother and me that you believed in us and bid on our coffee." Of course, I’m happy to hear our efforts are appreciated, but I’m confused—why is he talking about an auction? We had already agreed on a price…

Now I’m sitting in Luis’ car, on the way to his family’s mill. "My family was so relieved in 2008 to finally pay the bills. Thanks to you, we got off to a great start!" The words "2008" and "great start" make me pause—I ask what he means. I remember the microlots we won at auction that year, but I don’t recall one from La Lia.

"Oh, you did buy our first Cup of Excellence coffee. Hang on a second…"

Luis pulls over, disappears into his mother’s house, and returns a moment later—this time with a big picture frame under his arm, his brother Oscar, and their mother Lia by his side. Grinning, he shows me the frame, inside of which a coffee sack is mounted. On one side, the Cup of Excellence 2008 logo is printed, but to my surprise, the other side bears the names "Parritilla" and "SUPREMO Coffee."

Yes, I remember the coffee "Parritilla" very well. It feels like just yesterday that we sat in front of the screen, anxiously bidding on it for hours in the auction. A highly sought-after coffee—but back then, it was difficult to sell coffee at such a high price. And after that, we could never seem to track down the farm "Parritilla" again. Luis explains, "When we first started, our farm was still called ‘Parritilla.’ But we changed the name later in 2008."

Late into the night, we sit together at the family’s kitchen table, sharing stories from the past ten years.

It has always been a deep priority for my family and me—not just to source the highest quality coffee, but to truly contribute to improving conditions in coffee-growing regions.

For me, this meeting completes a circle—far more than just a beautiful coincidence. It’s a confirmation that all the effort we put in—the microlot program, the travels, direct trade as a whole—really does make a sustainable impact where it matters. And that impact is deeply appreciated.

With a heart full of gratitude, I now treat myself to a cup of Monster Typica from La Lia… or rather, Parritilla.