My grandfather planted the first arabica on this slope in 1954 and the bungalow went up around the kitchen, which is still where everything happens. We are a working estate before we are anything else: the pulping runs through December, the pepper comes off the same trees that shade the coffee, and the day starts when the crop says it does.
Guests eat what the house eats, at one table, at the times the house eats. Kaveri cooks Kodava food — pandi curry, kadambuttu, the akki roti nobody outside Kodagu makes properly — and if you want to see how a bean becomes what is in your cup, walk down to the drying yard with Ganesh after breakfast.
We have four rooms and we do not take more than one group at a time in the monsoon, because the road below the estate floods and we would rather tell you honestly than strand you.