We don’t blend away origin. Meridian maps flavour the way cartographers map terrain — by latitude, altitude and process. Three origins at a time, roasted light to keep the map legible.
We buy one lot per origin, directly and seasonally. Each is roasted to highlight its coordinates — soil, altitude, processing — not to taste like “coffee” in general. When it’s gone, it’s gone.
From a single 2-hectare plot above Pitalito. 48-hour fermented wash, raised-bed dried for 18 days. Bright, floral, almost tea-like — the most precise coffee we’ve bought this year.
72-hour natural dried on raised beds at Danse washing station. Wild, fruit-forward, Ethiopian heirloom varieties (74110, 74112). Tastes like the first warm day after winter.
Red Bourbon, honey-processed then dried under shade. From 42 smallholders on Maweng Hill. Structured and sweet — a proper breakfast coffee that still rewards attention.
No shortcuts.
No blends to
hide behind.
We roast one way: light enough to read the origin. That means higher acidity, more transparency, and nowhere to hide a flaw. If we can’t taste the place, we’ve roasted too dark.
Meridian started in a 12m² room above a bakery on Easter Road. No funding, a second-hand 5kg Probat, and a notebook of coordinates. We still log every roast by hand — charge temp, turning point, first crack, drop — and we still cup every batch at 8am, 12pm and 4pm before it ships.
We buy directly. Not through an importer’s spreadsheet, but by visiting, cupping, and paying 2–3× Fairtrade. Each lot is a relationship: El Crucero’s Gesha from Diego Bermúdez’ fermentation trials, Chelbesa from Negusse’s natural experiments, Maweng Hill from the Nemba station’s honey process.
When a coffee is gone, we don’t replace it with “something similar.” We wait for the next harvest. The meridian moves.
We log the curve, not just the time. Every batch is cupped three times before it earns the Meridian stamp. If it drifts, we don’t ship it.