At Dream Hill Coffee, every bean carries a story — of the misty hills of Koraput, the resilience of tribal farmers, and a dream that turned barren land into a thriving coffee haven. Founded by Susanto Panda at Saptagiri Plantation, Koraput, our journey is rooted in community, sustainability, and the pursuit of exceptional coffee.
This is not a brochure. This is the truth — what actually happens here. In the soil, in the hands, in the air you breathe when you walk through our rows. Read it like a letter: raw, unpolished, and human.
When this plantation began, the land was rough — hard soil, little shade, and no water system worth trusting. Everyone said coffee wouldn’t survive here. But step by step, trees were planted for shade, trenches were dug to hold water, and soil was slowly healed. Every sapling planted was an act of faith. Today, the same slopes wear a cloak of green.
We grow 100% Arabica here. Different varietals, each with its own voice:
SLN9 — balanced, chocolatey, dependable.
SL795 — bold, spicy hints, strong body.
Catimor & Chandragiri — fruit-forward, floral, brighter acidity.
Seeds are sown in nurseries, cared for like infants, and shifted only when roots are strong enough to meet the hills. Each varietal is mapped — lot by lot — so when you drink a cup, you’re tasting a chosen voice, not a blend of everything.
Coffee flowers arrive like a shock of white stars after the first rain. For a few days, the air is thick with jasmine scent. That moment tells us the fruiting season is near. Months later, cherries appear — green, tight, stubborn — until they swell into deep crimson. One drought, one hailstorm, one pest attack can wipe out a season. And it has happened. But the cycle of flower and fruit teaches us patience: no good coffee grows in a hurry.
Every cherry is hand-picked. Tribal farmers — men, women, even teenagers after school — walk row by row and pick only the ripe ones. Red cherries, not green. Ripe means sugar, sweetness, clarity. A careless hand can spoil an entire batch, so training matters. Every harvest day is a gamble with weather: sudden rain can ferment cherries overnight, too much sun can burn them. Yet, baskets fill, one hand, one cherry at a time.
This is where the bean is revealed. Cherries are:
Washed — pulped, fermented, washed, and sun-dried for clarity and brightness.
Naturals — dried whole, fruit intact, for fuller body and wild fruit notes.
Honey process — half-way, sticky-sweet, complex layers.
Raised beds, sheets, hand-turning every few hours. Drying is not just science; it is intuition. Too fast, you lose flavor. Too slow, you risk mold. Our people walk the drying yards daily, touching beans, feeling moisture with bare hands.
We roast in small batches, at origin. This is not mass roasting. This is listening to the crack, watching color shifts, smelling sugars caramelize. Each lot gets its own profile:
Light roast — citrus, florals, high notes.
Medium roast — caramel, chocolate, balance.
Dark roast — bold, smoky, bittersweet edges.
No batch moves forward without a cupping test. If it doesn’t sing in the cup, it doesn’t leave the roaster.
Every cup carries the hillside: Chocolate and spice from SL795.
Bright citrus and red fruit from Catimor.
Caramel, nuts, and balance from SLN9.
Wild florals from Chandragiri.
We don’t invent flavors. We describe what the land itself gives.
Coffee here is not easy. Droughts, pests, price crashes — all of them come like storms. Once, an entire drying yard was washed away by rain. Another year, leaf rust threatened to strip the plants bare. Farmers stayed, worked, replanted, waited. Every bag of beans that leaves this land is a victory against odds.
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