Origin
Carlópolis, Brazil
Elevation
1,000 - 1,800mASL
Varietal
Mundo Novo
Process
Natural Process
The portmanteau for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Altanghap is our signature coffee for when you just want to have your everyday coffee without the fuss. It's simple, clean, and straightforward that fills the need for a reliable brew, best enjoyed with milk.
Carlópolis, Brazil
1,000 - 1,800mASL
Mundo Novo
Natural Process
There are places where history doesn’t simply pass. It settles into the soil, becomes part of the air, and shapes the way people speak about the future. Paraná is one of those places. Anyone who has walked its coffee fields can feel the quiet insistence of memory, the sense that the land is still negotiating with what it once was.
In the 1960s, this region was something like an Eldorado–not the mythical city of gold, but a real stretch of earth producing nearly twenty million bags of coffee a year. Those were years of abundance, of mornings heavy with dew, and of the promise of harvest.
And then came the “black frost” of 1975, as people call it, as if giving it a name allows them to hold it at arm’s length. Overnight, entire fields froze into silence, and what had taken decades to build collapsed in the span of a single dawn. Producers scattered; some out of survival, others out of grief. Paraná emptied. For a long time, the land carried that loss.
It wasn’t until the early 2000s that something shifted. Coffee returned, not with the bravado of the past but with a more deliberate intent. Quantity no longer held sway. Quality of craft, precision, and care became the new language of the region’s revival. By 2015, Luiz Saldanha had spent eleven years at Fazenda California, long enough to understand both the gravity of Paraná’s legacy and the fragile promise of its rebirth. When he founded Capricornio Coffees, it was not simply to build a company, but it was to reclaim a latitude once considered lost, to stitch Paraná’s name back into the global map of great coffee.
The work was not quiet, but it was meticulous. Under Capricornio, certifications were not trophies but signals of rigor: Rainforest Alliance, Carbo Next, I-REC, HACCP, the seals of the Brazil Specialty Coffee Association, and the Specialty Coffee Association. Even the “Great Place to Work” recognition felt like part of the narrative proof that rebuilding a region requires rebuilding the human landscape as well.
Capricornio is, in many ways, a conversation between past and present. A reminder that devastation can be generational, but so can hope. And on those mornings when the air is crisp, the light slanting across new harvests, it’s possible to imagine that the land remembers not only the frost that broke it, but the resilience that brought it back.
Stillness hangs over the lake like a held breath, broken only by the hum of machinery warming in the distance. This is where the Teixeira Farm sits, a place that has carried three generations of hands, decisions, and seasons. Marcelo grew up knowing these slopes and rows.
When he took over the property in 2011, he inherited not only the land but the weight of its history, notwithstanding decades of traditional coffee farming, which became familiar routines passed quietly from one generation to the next. Change, at first, felt like an interruption. But Marcelo would come to see it as a continuation of the story, not a break.
Under his watch, the farm shifted, moving from the slow, manual rhythms of the past to the mechanized precision of the present. Machinery arrived, not as a replacement for labor, but as a new vocabulary for growth. Drying patios expanded. Processes tightened. What began as modest adjustments slowly reshaped the farm's entire landscape. Innovation came not only from equipment but also from knowledge. He invested in training, in rural extension services, and in understanding coffee beyond the confines of a single farm. For him, quality isn’t a trend; it’s the future laboring its way into the present. “Consumers are increasingly seeking quality,” he notes, “so we need to excel in what we do.”
There is a quiet gravity in the way he looks toward the next generation. His children are already showing signs of curiosity, tracing the familiar rows with new eyes. Perhaps this is how legacy really works: not through inheritance alone, but through the courage to reshape what you’ve been given and the hope that someone after you will keep the story moving. The old and the new coexist not in tension, but in dialogue. Tradition provides the roots, modernity the branches. And somewhere between them, emerging from the red soil of Paraná, is a coffee recognized far beyond the lake it was grown beside — a testament to the evolving heart of Brazilian coffee farming.