Seasonal updates, batch notes, and quiet observations from the cloud forest.
April in Unión Juárez is when the coffee flowers open across the Tacaná foothills. The bloom lasts barely three weeks — but in that window, the bees produce a honey so intensely fragrant it barely resembles the wildflower batch from the same hives two months prior.
Heat and ultrafiltration make honey shelf-stable and clear. They also remove most of what makes it interesting. A closer look at what survives extraction — and what does not.
Altitude, biodiversity, and volcanic soil all shape what ends up in the jar. The Tacaná cloud forest is one of the most botanically dense ecosystems in North America — and you can taste it.
The rainy season has started. Mist sits in the cloud forest until noon, and the hives hum at a different pitch when there is nectar to move. We walk the rows at dawn, reading what the bees are telling us.
Pulling frames too early means excess moisture — the honey ferments in the jar. Too late and the bees have already moved it around. The window is narrow, and it is written in the wax.
A young quesillo and the jasmine-forward brightness of our Cloud Forest batch create something that feels inevitable. The floral finish of the honey lifts the salt of the cheese. It was not planned — it never is.