i never know how to start writing about things that are going to end the same way, in a mushy unravelling about how coffee brings together the greatest people with the most impassioned spirits, but i’ll try to work some information between point A and point B and describe a little of what was magical and practical about last weekend’s slow food nation congress in beautiful san francisco.

for months now the murmur of what this would be had yet to make itself clear: andrew barnett (ecco caffe), eileen hassi (ritual coffee roasters) and tonx (tonx.org) were co-curating the coffee pavillion for this first-of-its kind event, a weekendlong gathering of tastes, talks, food-eaters and inspiring, considered producers across two sites in the city. the coffee pavillion, we were told, would feature espresso as well as flights of brewed coffee, and for months the details were hammered out. would there be clovers? would george howell let us put coffee in them? how many people were needed to help? which producers could they afford to fly in? can anyone get 10,000 nuova point demitasses over here, STAT?

it came together so beautifully: edwin martinez describes it in loving detail on the finca vista hermosa blog here; a two-and-a-half-day frenzy of excited, talented people from roasters to baristas to green buyers to coffee producers to equipment manufacturers to retailers to writers to vegan doughnut bakers all truly collaborating to make the best possible coffee tasting experience happen for our audience.

what i felt helped made SFN’s coffee transcend other coffee events i’ve been to was this true sense of alignment across the farm-to-cup spectrum. beyond competition and beyond ego, in a place where nothing (uh, once you got past the door fee) was branded or for sale, people gathered together in service of the coffees themselves. yes, we had exquisite equipment and champion baristas and amazingly reputed roasters in our arsenal, but more to the point we had these lovely coffees. removed was the performative aspect of baristaing, and instead there was a real sense of everyone linked on a chain of delivering these flavors and their messages to an amazingly receptive stream of people. “my job,” said one barista to a visitor to the espresso line, “is just to not fuck the coffee up on its way to you.”

the event as a whole was overwhelming and seductive, though i have no idea what it would have been like to digest it as a legitimate attendee. each pavillion had its own jaw-dropping aspect. in ice cream i sampled a fig-goat-cheese-and-cognac ice cream (when given spoonsful backstage, jenni said “is this goat cheese?” and andrew asked “is this bourbon?”) that blew me away. honey brought their own bees, bread made fast friends with us over at coffee, keeping a steady stream of paraitha, naan, breadsticks, boules, and on-site-wood-fired pizzas flowing back to us, which surely kept many of the volunteers from fainting of caffiene and enthusiasm shock. cheese and the sheep to whom i am deeply grateful offered savories, beer began filling our coffeepots from their taps, pickles and chutney had such a serious array of brined goods i didn’t even know how to comprehend it — as well as the most shockingly gorgeous pavillion in the hall, hundreds of canning rings suspended in an undulating canopy from invisible line above their booth. cheryl and i attempted to liaise with the spirits pavillion on the first night — only to have some european guy grab the coffees we’d brought him and brandish a bottle of absinthe, and exclaim “perfect! we’re going to make cafe correct-o!” before combining the two and serving to shocked and vaguely unwilling guests… i missed fish and wine and native foods altogether, but let’s not forget our neighbor across the hall, chocolate, which lined up treats and producers for an educational tasting, tea next door with their amazing seated tea service-and-talk sessions, and the many blessings of charcuterie, who offered flights of cured meat each day that reminded me constantly of where my weaknesses really lie.

for us, being part of something where we were making our product live and on the spot was vitalizing as well. though our friends in bread were kneading away non-stop, and many other pavillions were preparing things in real-time, it was intrinsically part of our pavillion’s experience that we were making something fresh for each visitor. coffee is a kinetic, temperamental, ever-changing creature. throughout each day, new coffees were being selected and tasted and learned and served at a nearly breakneck speed (sometimes too breakneck) from the incredible selection donated by the generous people at barefoot, zoka, terroir, ecco, ritual, intelligentsia, counter culture, stumptown and others. though i think it would have been an improvement for the baristas and taste captains to have had some more time and background with some of these coffees before dialing them in and introducing them, i think it is a testament to their professionalism and skill that they were able to adapt and experience and promote these beautiful coffees with such speed and finesse, delivering their message eloquently and in a way that offered the drinker a way to truly connect to it in the context of supply, production and preparation (with, in some beautiful cases, the roaster, buyer, and farmer all standing only inches away from your cup.)

in terms of where coffee fit into the event, it felt like such an important moment on a broader scale: the elevation of our niche interest within culinary, i hate to say, legitimacy, was being made real in a very prominent way to people that were interested and attentive. i think for people on both sides of the tasting counters, it was inspiring to be able to listen as well as be heard. imagine if every customer in your shop or every friend who asked you about coffee actually wanted to hear the details of the farm, the family that runs it, the elevation and climate, how it travelled to get to you, and what makes it special within its region and the spectrum of coffee at large. this happened several thousand times that weekend from people who truly wanted to discover coffee’s flavors and stories, and to share this experience with all the other volunteers was unifying and, i think, gave so much hope as to what is coming in the future.

ultimately what most of us who volunteered will take home, though, is that feeling of ever-renewed amazement at the ways people come together, the enriching pleasure of spending time with similarly minded, geeky, dedicated people removed from the usual context of competition, tension or trade show. brent fortune wrangled us into roles that suited us and the atmosphere allowed for flexibility and collaboration (coffeepot runners hopping behind the espresso machines, roasters diligently bussing the demitasses and proscuitto wreckage sprayed throughout the event site). i will remember the new friends and the gorgeous sense of generosity (both between helpers in the coffee pavillion and across other food groups — by sunday we were being hand-delivered trays of watermelon tequila and cold cuts) that filled the ocean-breezy halls of fort mason. i am sorry to abdullah bagersh (and his coffee buyers) for accidentally trying to steal that car with him, i am grateful to cheryl and jenni for being amazing travelling companions even when i am grouchy in the morning, to dan and amber for brooklynifying with us regularly and often, to peter g. and destiny for deploying the history of the martini at exactly the right time, to baca and barnett for escorting three out-of-towners to the BART and (worse) the party bus on late nights, to kyle and eveline for the posh wurlitzer digs, to the local foodies and cafes that let us linger in post-slow-food-stupors, to anyone who went on a taco or tartine run, and to everyone who made, drank, described, carried, spilled, cleaned up after, criticized, complimented and shared coffee amongst each other.

not one person i talked to didn’t feel lucky to be a part of it.

Joie-de-vivre is hard to summon at 5:00am, but coffee people are nothing if not dreamers and thus the world’s most tired and ridiculous party took place on Sunday morning in the generously donated, eerily darkened confines of Gimme! Coffee’s Brooklyn shop (a.k.a. this journalist hack’s home office) to watch the World Barista Championship over faltering (ours usually) live video feed from Copenhagen.

Our cheering loyalties were with those whom we knew personally — Mike Yung, Canadian Barista Champion, and Stephen Morrissey, Irish champ now residing in I believe Manila — and we laid in supplies for the party in hopes to send good luck to these guys and the other four amazing finalists from our faraway seats in Brooklyn.

Of course, if you’re going to a party at 0500 you should probably just not even bother going to bed at all the night before, or so I managed to convince two people anyway, and hero points are awarded to Ed and Amber for their stamina in carousing with me even well after the others had peeled off to take their pre-party naps. Were the shots of Irish whiskey proffered by a stranger at 0130 a sign of the universe’s favorite contender? We would soon see. A predawn phone call to Copenhagen yielded the latest WBC gossip from Judge Barnett, who had the pleasure of talking to four or five intoxicated people in New York City before his morning swim in the elliptical pool at his Danish hotel, and soon we were off to wake up Mike White and plug in the pancake machine on Lorimer Street.

In between the A/V tinkering and griddle tending and plant cleaning was a surreal little capsule of sleepy cameraderie — it was no epic USBC play-by-play recreation, but it was ours. While a few people slept on the soft benches of the store, the rest of us blinked groggily over pancakes and waved at our friends watching back at us from Copenhagen and San Francisco. A startling few people showed up seemingly awake, which was disorienting to say the least, but we pulled out whatever oomph we could, perking up with wonderment when actual customers began to arrive at 7:00 am ordering coffees and wondering why so many of us were violating the “no laptops on the counter” rule.

But despite the hazy cast and wee numbers, simply being there felt like being a part of something. When Mike Yung’s siphon pot failed, we collectively, sleepily winced. Was it because the maple syrup I brought turned out to be from New York State instead of Canada?

At least the butter was Irish, and indeed, so was the morning’s inimitable winner Mr. Morrissey, revealed in an amazing and emotional announcement from emcee James Hoffmann (which the remaining awake few of us watched, by that time, at home from the comfort of our own beds.) Wherever you hung out with us, thank you for this. Celebrating community is sometimes about simply being present — and whether you are representing in a ridiculous context of flying all the way to Copenhagen, sitting in a coffee shop at 5:00am not actually drinking any coffee at all, lying with your laptop in bed in Portland or Greenpoint, awaiting text message updates on bar in Valencia Street or on your Greyhound bus back to Canada, or reading this very rundown at all — you were there. And that’s why we’re all in it anyway, right?

Kyle Glanville’s domination of the 2008 USBC has launched him on a jet plane to Copenhagen, Denmark this week, where he’ll compete against Stephen Morrissey, who he has trained with, to depose James Hoffmann, who Stephen has trained with, as the World Barista Champion. Wait, what? My head is spinning! Let’s see what Kyle, who works for Intelligentsia Coffee and Tea in Los Angeles, has to say about, you know. coffee and stuff.

What is coffee culture like in LA?
Coffee? Culture? Actually, there’s a few really good shops within the immediate vicinity of our shop. La Mill is about a mile away, as is Choke which is a motorcycle shop / espresso bar. Its really cool because the culture is starting from scratch and the focus really seems to be on the
coffee.

When you win the WBC, are you going to keep up on your blog more?
When I win? Pffft! Blog? Oh yeah, I stare at that thing from time to time. I dunno. Maybe. Someday I’d like to be famous like Tonx or James Hoffmann.

What was your USBC experience like this year? Did you feel lonely out there with so few of your Intelligentsia colleagues also in the competition?
Ha! I can tell you competing this year felt really nice. Not only did I feel like I had arrived with the Intelli crew, but with the whole west coast crew as well. I think I realized at the USBC that I’ve somehow managed to plant myself in a group of people who are all truly exceptional at what they do, from Mike Phillips to Nick Griffith to Chris Baca etc etc etc. All these people are wonderful examples of the modern young coffee professional and everything good this movement can represent.

It was also really nice to practice with a team of folks this year. We would get together in the lab and just rip each other apart, it was fantastic. We were all told several times “your drink sucks”, which is exactly what we all needed.

I had a long conversation today with a single-origin espresso detractor (”Single-origin espressos are like the roaster’s given up!” were I believe this person’s words.) You used a single-origin espresso from Finca Matalapa in El Salvador to compete, and win, the USBC. Defend your choice.
That might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Whether we want to accept it or not, the most progressive coffee companies (and the ones who are producing the most delicious coffees in my opinion) are featuring farms more and more because it is the work that happens at the farm that determines how good the coffee will be. Every year more great coffee is
produced that stands on its own.

I say this as someone who is responsible for maintaining a very well known espresso blend. I know what it takes to get either to taste excellent and its no easier to make an SO sing as an espresso than it is to create an excellent blend.

I could go on and on, but I’ll leave it at that.

What would you change about barista competitions if you could?
Ummmm, I don’t know. The competition is a very specific format. I guess I would love it if we could serve our drinks two by two and set temperature of our machines as well as baskets. I think the sig drink shouldn’t necessarily feature espresso. I also think the sig drink shouldn’t necessarily have to be a beverage.

What would you change about the current movement in coffee if you could? Either globally or locally?
Ahhhhhhhhh.
To sum up what could otherwise turn into a ten page dissertation, I wish that we could combine all the muscle of our tiny niche of the coffee industry to fearlessly defend true quality and everything it takes to achieve it. We are all too willing to compromise, and that’s usually because
of a deep cynicism about what our customers actually want or whether the consumer can actually tell the difference between mediocre coffee and great
coffee.

Does your family understand coffee and your role in it?
Ummmmm, no. Maybe. I still find bags of coffee in the freezer at my mom’s house every christmas, and its usually the coffee I gave her the Christmas before.

Only in Minneapolis did I become aware that there was a feeling of difference between Intelli LA and Chicago. What, if anything, do you feel these differences are, and what do you like or dislike about what that divide might represent?
Well, we are definitely separated geographically. I think we could benefit from the opportunity to come together more often. But I definitely feel that the Chicago crew is as much my family as the LA crew is, we just only see each other on special occasions.

It’s going to be fun to goose Stephen Morrissey backstage, isn’t it?
Stephen and I have the kind of romance that the outside world couldn’t possibly understand.

Can I come to Copenhagen as your official photographer, (representing Chicago, Intelli, America, Freedom, etc.)?
Okay! But, freedom isn’t free. There’s a hefty fee.

Right?

photos stolen from James Hoffmann, as per usual

I first met Stephen Morrissey when he steamrolled through Toronto last fall, spilling Black Cat and Irish curses all over Manic Coffee. Morrissey recently won the Irish Barista Championship, and is will be competing in the WBC in a couple of weeks hoping to remove the little paper crown from his business partner James Hoffmann and parade around in it all year himself.

What is coffee culture like in Ireland?
Not too pretty. It’s dominated by a cafe culture rather than a coffee culture, where people are familiar with the concept of a cafe and consider themselves cosmopolitan because they’re somewhat familiar with terms like cappuccino and macchiato. What doesn’t exist is an awareness of coffee’s more significant elements, like seasonality, brewing complexities and regional or varietal differences. I suppose the problem is universal, where many of the bigger companies who dominate the Irish coffee market tend to use the same vocabulary to promote their coffee that we would, thus making it more difficult to fight our corner. In saying that, Ireland is probably the same as most other countries, in that the percentage of cafes doing a good job is only about 1 or 2%. So while the States may have 100 or so quality-focused cafes, Ireland, with its population of just over four million, may only have around three.

How do you get away with competing for Ireland even though you have actually moved to London?
I was living in Ireland when I competed in all the competitions, and only moved over here properly in the last couple of weeks. Interestingly, I just found out yesterday that I can only ever compete in Ireland now, even if I lived in Manila the rest of my life. I’m still not sure how I feel about that, whether its a good or bad thing.

Why is that? Isn’t that going to piss off all the other baristas in Manila?
Are baristas legal in Manila? I wonder if they tap or not.

I always think its funny how much effort is need to win the Irish in comparison to that needed to win the US, and then how both competitors go in on equal footing in the WBC. Not to downplay the skill level of Irish baristas, or how much work I put into it, but I only had to do it twice, with around thirty other people, as opposed to the five rounds Mr. Glanville had to do and the hundreds of other competitors who threw their hats in the ring. So I suppose it might have been nice to compete in another country but I’m sure as Ireland continues to improve, we’ll see more competitors, more regionals and more significance to winning the Irish in Ireland.

(As opposed to winning the Irish in Manila, presumably.)

Where were you working in coffee in Dublin, and how does that coffee community differ from what you’ll be joining in London?
I started off in a cafe called Rio Coffee Co, my brother trained me to do latte art in an afternoon seeing around 50 cappuccinos thrown down a sink, and after a year or two there, I went to work for the coffee supplier of that cafe, Bewley’s Coffee Co Ltd. They dominate the Irish market, roasting around 50 or 60 tonnes a week, and were the first to bring coffee and tea into Ireland in the early 1800s. They were the first to expose me to the Cup of Excellence and their training lab is still one of the best I’ve seen. I became a trainer for them and looked after quality control in their main cafe on Dublin’s Grafton street alongside everyone’s famous Pigot, Deaton, now of Intelligentsia LA. This cafe had 6 fb70s, a 5 kilo probat, and around 35 baristas working throughout its four floors and I feel Deaton and I were able to foster a culture of good brewing that has lasted since we left. It’s definitely worth checking out for anyone traveling to Dublin.

With Square Mile, it was the opportunity to go further that appealed. Beyond the obvious appeal or working with two close friends, who I’ve just learnt a silly amount from in the last while, also I’m able to work with really interesting coffees, brew them on really exciting machines, and sell them to really nice, and serious coffee people.

Regarding community, subcultures struggle to develop in Ireland, especially Dublin, which is not the case in the UK. There’s a real sense that the barista culture is bubbling away here, and hopefully Square Mile can help facilitate the development of that. How does a little branded badge sound?

What’s your role within Square Mile? Are all three of you roasting, or are you there just to look pretty?
I’m glad you mentioned my looks, as they are so central to everything I do, both in my work and social capacities. A lot of my day is spent standing around allowing others to admire me, although by others you have to take into account inanimate objects like Synessos and the odd Chemex. This commitment, and a poor olfactory system means I don’t do any roasting, and neither does James, whose reasons are even more intriguing than mine. Anette is our director of coffee, our master roaster and the person who slaps James and I when we get too goofy.

What has the competition experience been like for you? How many people competed in Ireland this year?
Do you mean just this year’s competition or my experience of them as a judge, competitor and trainer? You can’t reply because this is an e mail interview, but I’ll presume you meant all three. I know there are flaws in the competition, but if you look at it as a goal to raising coffee quality, and not a chance a platform for glorification, then I think it’s great. For me it presents a set of standards that if all the cafes in the world went by, we’d be drinking a lot more tasty coffee.

I’ve enjoyed competing, coaching and judging, and after Copenhagen, I look forward to help how I can organising them. They are stressful, expensive to compete in, but if you do compete, it will make you a better barista, without question.

What would you change about barista competitions if you could?
The scoring system. If I serve an acceptable espresso on the world stage, I’ll get a 1. What nonsense.

What would you change about the current movement in coffee if you could? Either globally or locally?
Less egos on some people, and less humility from others, cleaner Indonesians, less chili & chocolate sig drinks, more blogs of better content, more tattoos, but never on me, and more facial and back hair. Oo, and more innovation in machinery.

Does your family understand coffee and your role in it?
No, which they’ll regret. My mother will want me to mention her; Geraldine.

It’s going to be fun to depose James, isn’t it?
Not sure if I’ll get the pleasure, but someone will, and no doubt it’ll be fun for them.

How come you’re such a cheeky bastard?
fuck off.

photo courtesy James Hoffmann

I’ve been wanting to interview Croatian barista Nik Orosi ever since reading an inspiring email he wrote to “Crazy Dan Master” Griffin last winter, outlining his diabolical yet inspired plan to dominate the World Barista Competition with plasma TV screens and a universalizing cry that “all barista breath the same air”. So true! Here’s a little email sit-down with Nik, then, as he prepares to represent Croatia in Copenhagen this coming June — hopefully the first of a few interviews twitchy can provide with WBC competitors leading up to the event. I edited Nik’s answers only a bit…

What is coffee culture like in Croatia?

Even we (Croatians) are known for coffee since the begining of preparation (on east side was Turkish empire and traditional way of making coffee, history was hard for us all here around, on west side was Italian way of bringing coffee beans to a cup) we still dont have high quality of coffee beverages. Coffee is everywhere and to live without coffee is just impossible, here is a saying; Lets go for a cup of coffee, which means literally all; lets have a talk, lets fall in love, lets do basically everything in life. For all that, I’m actually so sad to see bad coffee almost everywhere…but who am I to tell what’s right and what’s wrong?

Do you feel connected to a coffee community within your own country? What about outside of your country? Do people in your city think you’re a weirdo?

Youv been here or??? Hahaha…Yes, people do think that im a weirdo, i have in my shop Faema E61, La Marzocco GB5 with portaflon portafilters and barista lights, three Mahlkonig’s k30, one Ditting etc etc, still, I’m the only non-smoking bar in the whole country, also, no alcohol, no brands, no logos, so just coffee…imagine to win anything or have friends in that surrounding.

What is more weird is that every single barista in Croatia belongs (what a word!!!) yes, belongs to some big Italian blend, so you wont find that Illy people are talking to me, or Lavazza is asking for my help, or that Segafredo is sitting next to other coffee brand….so strange and I dont want to belong there, that’s why all my coffee friends are abroad, somewhere else, not here…except two, my coworker that I’m already training for next championship and my friend from India that lives in Croatia…just before I won for the second time, my caffe was chosen for the best one in whole country, results; more gossips. Only who I care of are my regular customers.

What has the competition experience been like for you? How many people competed in Croatia this year?

I just love to compete, I’m a child still even though I’m 37 in August. I love to share with other competitors and I love to see faces of my customers that are proud cos of my win…This year was 15 of us in semifinals, some were better, some were there just because someone was paying for that…silly…To be honest, there were Willy Hansen, James Hoffmann and Anette Moldvaer and I was so happy because I couldnt breath normally when with them, I was so proud of knowing them…they are my heroes, and Tim Wendelboe, my own personal Jesus.

WBC in Tokyo was the best thing ever happened to me after my kids, so much energy, I went there, and as I say, I’ve found my family…Jay, John, James, everyone…to tell you the truth, I won just to be with them all again. Other competitors at national didnt have a single chance, my will to see them again was something that others couldnt understand…

You’re off to Copenhagen. But don’t you have some unusual ideas for your WBC routine? (Uh, plasma TVs, big performance, etc.?)

When I’m competing, I want to make a performance and not to talk how I’m passionate about coffee etc as everyone does cos, if you are not passionate, you wont be here, so why all this talk about you, me, your blend…why the judges are listening to that, after all, they’re supposed to know all that.

I’m an architect, I was also listening to Pet Shop Boys and Depeche Mode and they both were into performance when on the stage and visually different. In Tokyo I was playing with it all but silent, so just very few saw what I wanted to show actually, this time, i was making plasma TV for each judge with as many informations I can put in 15min, like on MTV, numerous pictures and words…just last week I stoped that cos, honestly, I’m using Tim Wendelboe’s espresso and TV cannot be in favor or with that much power at the stage opposite to his coffee, so I said, first Tim, then my crazy games. My judges table will be different in every way, no plasmas but….boxes, less is more, each judge will have a box in front, all what is needed will be incorporated in that box, so no spoons, sugar, napkins on the table…its all in white, i wont tell you all but will all finish in red as my honor to our host and their flag, similar to Tokyo story but way better…magic maybe, I was always a fan of Darth Vader…the force is with you young Skywalker…

What would you change about barista competitions if you could?

Performance. To see how they are dressed usually, what they listening to, copy-paste their bars in front of judges and other people. To be yourself, not learned speech for judges. We don’t need barista robots, but barista humans. Also, for me signature drink is nothing cos most of the barista are not using that in daily life or in their shops so its all a lie and I hate pretending ….maybe I’m wrong? Not for the first time but its me, I’m not taking points from this, it’s from my heart.

What would you change about the current movement in coffee if you could? Either globally or locally?

If I could but I cannot. What bothers me is peoples beliving in brand, not in barista. Most of the people have tendency to belong to someone, to be or to feel power with the sign, can be Armani or Aston Martin, maybe yes but Starbucks???? What the ….??? Costa is opening their shop just 20 meters from my shop. Hm, fear, no way! What to change, at least, I pray for poor people at coffee farms, so sad to see Ethiopians….there is no day that I dont shed a tear for them, their kids are having no school, no toys, no food….I have two kids and it’s all so disturbing to me. We have to do something, and we can…so let’s move. As for here, I’ll kick some importers of coffee out, it’s not all about money, but they just don’t understand…how much I can tell about them all but…strangely, it’s the same with some brands everywhere, UK or Croatia, they are just in love with themselves and all they can say is; we have the best brand.

Does your family understand coffee and your role in it?

Thank God, my wife is always with me wherever I go, she is my team. My two kids are too small to understand, they just like me winning so they can tell other kids that their dad is a champ and be meaningful. Hahaha… I actually enjoy in that listening how kids are fighting whose father is better….so all are doctors or politicians, and my son is saying; my dad is a champion in coffee making!!?? You look at other people’s faces asking whats that?? Strangely but pure joy!!!

Who is going to win the WBC this year?

Who? I’d like to make a change and after semifinals to give to all champions a trophy as a World Barista Champion. No finals, no tears…cos we all deserve it and I think it will be great.

Australia, Ireland, USA,Denmark, Norway, New Zealand… I know them and their ability… whoever wins will be by a point or two, there are so many great baristas and the world barista community is making huge steps. What I’d like to see is some kind of top class competition, competition between world champions till now, and I’m sure that Tim will win but this will be for humanitarian cause, not for whos the best. This Tim is so good, his skills and knowledge are big as he is as a person.

Does Croatia want to fly me over to cover the competition?

Next year I’ll be a tech judge and on a committee so you are more than welcome to Croatia…keep in touch about it…

Anything else you want to say on this or any subject while you have our attention?

Most of the coffee is sold as commodity, for me and I believe in it , coffee is not a commodity but a luxury product, so let’s take our coffee and our jobs as barista as luxury. Give all of us in every cup, give all in every sip…let’s change people’s minds about coffee from; I’m in a rush, I’ll take coffee as a take-away, throw it away, who cares, this and that…no connection whatsoever. Let’s go to basics, let’s be human first.

For a change there is no competition until later in the day — noon! — and it’s a sleeper-in for the first time in days. Or it would be, if there weren’t a plan afoot to go bowling and brunching in the morning with my friends from America’s Dairyland. We arrive at Bryant Lake Bowl (via a cabbie who lets us pile seven in, and offers us bottled water (!?!?!?)) with (sleepy, SCAA-burned-out) bells on: only to hear they are waxing the lanes at 10am. WAXING THE LANES? I am the first to hear this and it’s such bad news I can’t even look Teisl and Lucey in the eye and I make Jenny tell them. The brunch is alright, though, and I think a couple of kids order a drink called Booze Salad to make them thoroughly enthusiastic for the USBC finals. Go Midwest! (”Oh, it’s a drink? I actually would prefer booze poured all over my salad.” — Eileen Hassi.)

Back to the dehydrating and sleepymaking convention floor! Quick macchiato at the 49th Parallel booth (thank you for existing) and time to watch.

The crack SCAA2008 blogging and videoing and generally being awesome crew have compiled highlights from their “Barista Confessionals” video segments and are using them as intro bumpers for each competitor. Totally awesome.

Drew Cattlin is first. He does a fine job on this routine that I’m now watching for the third iteration in days. Almost serves the judges their drinks out of order — and corrects. How is this serving order determined, anyway?

Drew is done early and has time for cleanup and more water-refililng. Nick Cho and James Hoffmann are emceeing today; as part of their banter and judge-score-time-killing routine, they are asking each competitor to pull them a shot while they make awkward post-competition small talk. Radical! Jealous!

Nick Griffith is second. He’s again really really calm. It’s just as if he’s making a drink for you in a cafe on a slow afternoon. He lets the tech judges know “you can dance if you want to”.

Nick finishes his signature drink in the 13 minute zone, does lots of cleaning and the lyrics to whatever song is playing say “the clock is ticking / but I can’t stop time”. Nick comes across just like a really good host would. He talks more about his coffee’s origins. And calls time.

Reigning USBC champion Heather Perry (who I’m told has admirably been into Kopplin’s Coffee daily during the conference) is up now. We are mighty far from San Dimas. Heather opens with another exceedingly long and vaguely informative schpiel about, oh, her first coffee passions, farms, trips to origin, the first cafe experience that made her love coffee, and so on. This takes a full 2:30, but some water does get poured for the judges in the meantime. She’s from some other dimension, but her routine is solid.

The photographers have slightly stricter rules (like no passing behind the judges) today which we are trying hard to follow. As such, Meister has carpet burn on her knees. Dedication to the craft, yes yes it is.

More Californians! Chris Baca is competitor four. He’s the crowd favorite today, no question. He had the highest score in any regional competition and just seems like such the perfect gentleman, showman and potential coffee ambassador. Plus he wears those tearaway pants (not in competition.)

Baca tells Nick Cho he’s from Modesto. “That’s where it goes down,” he explains.

He hits the start button and grins.

Baca shouts out to everyone down the line who led him to being able to prepare the coffee he has today: Gabe, Ryan and Devorah who roasted it at Ritual, to the farmers to “anyone who works on this coffee while I’m sitting at home and watching TV.”

Signature drinks are cherry lime cheesecake and I manage to steal just one or two drops later on — Gabe tells me I probably only got the syrupy end, but it ain’t anything but pure goodness. A taut routine and we are all crossing our fingers with nerves.

Pete Licata from PT’s in Kansas City is rolling fifth: he’s the only non-West coaster and represents the Midwest as best possible here in Minneapolis, with little chef coat outfit to boot. Pete says serving his customers their favorite drinks daily is “the best thing in the world”.

His cappuccino pours look good: but he’s shaking like mad! The third one nearly goes projectile into the judge. It works out okay. He pulls three sets of shots for his signature drink, which mimics an “espresso wine”. He serves it with a musky cheese I tried the other day, and ends his routine sweetly:

“Thank you. It has been an absolute honor to serve you. This is the most proud moment of my life.”

Pete blows a little espresso dust off the competition timer, and calls time.

Back in the barista prep room, Drew Cattlin is really, really methodically washing dishes. He has washed more dishes at this conference than anyone I’ve seen back here. The sink is a good place to direct sudsy tension. Drew manages to be social and Zen all at the same time.

Last but (especially if you know the outcome already) not least is Kyle Glanville. He’s on his game and he’s one of my guesses for top three if not winner. His first two cappuccino pours are really great: but he’s focused and a little scared. Swallows nervously and pours the others.

Kyle’s one of the few competitors who really comfortably mixes up his stage patter day to day despite performing essentially the exact same routine. He’s comfortable enough with what he’s saying to vary it eloquently and with ease, and it’s this kind of tiny nuance that makes you realize he’s fully assured of every step of what he’s doing up there.

Kyle explains the fear of salt but prepares four individually-burnered-and-strained macadamia nut infused espresso drinks despite the salty stigma: there’s a smear on one glass that I see him look at as he’s serving it to a judge — but he decides to play it gracefully. He’s got a minute left to clean, and looks relieved…

…which is a hell of a lot more calm than he looks an hour later when he is announced the 2008 United States Barista Champion (2nd: Pete Licata, 3rd: Heather Perry — in a tie with Pete having a higher amount of sixes.) Whoa! Intelligentsia’s competition machine has produced again, and Glanville is so humbled and freaked out when Licata is named second — making him the remaining winner — that he grabs first his face and then his stomach and then the table. It’s kind of totally awesome.

And then in a mass of scores gone over with judges, luggage collected, carpets hastily rolled up, bags of espresso being pawned off left and right, airport rides brokered, trade show booths torn down by what yesterday were hopeful competitors, it’s all over. Exhausted and bittersweet goodbyes are tendered. If I were actually awake and feeling not-sick, this moment would be so much worse. (You’ll all visit, right?)

I collect two New Yorkers and we head to Kopplin’s for a goodbye coffee. It seems like 2003209329 days ago that I stepped off the bus into this wee cafe and speedily ingratiated myself with the entire staff in order to avail myself of their vehicles, family homes and espresso and coffee beverages. Everyone who works here is great! Which is part of what makes a cafe great, but it’s such a good coffee shop, too, really one of the best I’ve been to in the country. And I wasn’t paid to say that in exchange for a ride to the airport from Milstead. It’s a special place, even if that sassy owner is too cynical for me to say that to his face. (Somebody snap a towel at that kid for me, willya?)

As tiny world happy luck would have it, Ecco Experimental Espresso #2 is in the grinder for our last coffees of the whirlwind weekend. Mike shares a shot with Meister and we’re off to MSP to be whisked away back to supposed reality. Beyond burned out and at the risk of losing my lippy reputation, I gotta say: this was such a good weekend made possible by the presence of amazing and passionate weirdos from all around the world, the abundance of whom made me feel like I was roaming around some kind of crazy friend buffet all conference long, unable to really savor as much of anyone or anything as I wanted, but lucky all the same.

Mike and Amber get BFF props for being my main travel companions, eye-rolling friends and cocktail waitresses; the amazing, amazing SCAA blog and tech crew of Zachary, Katie, James, Meister, Nick and that tall skinny guy for making all this ridiculousness available in uber-geeky form to those who truly love it; everyone from Brooklyn (so amazing), everyone from Canada (oh my god there are so many of you/us), Mark Prince and CoffeeGeek.com for the kindness of press access and the impetus to come, everyone who works at Kopplin’s for being suspiciously great and providing a local reality base and a Midwestern inspiration for coffee.

Obviously I am a tired sentimental sap. Coffee conventions and barista competitions are totally ridiculous and I’m not sure where they fit into reality, but when what you like is inspired and delightful crazy people and good coffee: you can sure have one hell of a good time. Mad love, kiddos.

And congratulations, Kyle.

[Playing mass catch-up here now that I’m back from the Twin Cities. Can I really not have eaten anything since brunch at the bowling alley? Ow.]

Nick Griffith (Intelligentsia Coffee and Tea, Los Angeles, CA) is on now. The Minneapolis Convention Center is extremely, extremely dry. As I watch him pour water from the judges I get really, really jealous. I am thirsty as fuck.

Nick is dead calm. Lots of discussion of flavors. He finishes two minutes under time, and pours the judges more water. Water!!!

I go wander the trade show floor again for a bit. I am so thirsty I want to die, but before I am smart enough to find water I find my friend Patty over working the Clover machine in the Cafe Imports booth. A nice Kenyan. I wander over to the La Marzocco booth and ogle some sexy equipment. Kent Bakke, who is very nice, is the CEO of La Marzocco. We interacted thusly:

Kent: “Nice camera!”
Liz: “Uh, nice espresso machine.”

Oh, SCAA trade show booths, land of the awkward pauses… anyway, I believe I mentioned I was dying of dehydration. I should’ve laid down $3 for a Dasani somewhere in the mafia-run convention commissary, but instead I opted for a more grassroots solution: rummage through competition prep room to see if anyone has leftover water from competition. I have basically moved my life underneath the Alterra table anyway, so when I find two open bottles of San Pellegrino with a few inches of water left in each they are nearly immediately consumed from Scott and Justin’s table. Sorry, guys. Like I said, I was planning to tell you.

Nominally refreshed, I head back into the fray: Billy Wilson (The Albina Press, Portland, OR) is on and I’ve never seen him compete or make espresso or really do much beyond quietly sit with his girlfriend, actually. By way of warming up, Billy chats up the judges he doesn’t already know personally — asks them where they work and if they like their jobs (!).

Billy heats up his cups and introduces his Anfim grinder to the tech judges. Billy is pulling all his shots at once like many competitors today, explaining that he’d “rather have the blend sit for 5 seconds here than 25 in the cup.”

I’m curious to taste Billy’s espresso and as he’s preparing these I glance over to gauge the position of the runners who are volunteering to bus the judges’ table between drinks. They don’t actually seem to be in the competition area with me. Odd. Billy notices this as well as he’s about to move on to his next drink — and kind of freezes up and looks questioningly at head judge Marcus Boni. Suddenly Marcus is bussing the demitasses himself, and swiftly passing them away — to me. I want to be super helpful and I put down my camera and start trying to carry away some stacked cups…just poorly and hastily enough to uh, drop one. I have now caused a dish crash in the middle of an already weird competition moment, and Michelle Campbell and I finish bussing the demitasses while I enjoy the fragrance of the end of a really good shot of Hairbender all over my skirt.

Billy’s signature drink is, I think, a chocolate espresso allspice torte? Torte? Did I hear that right? Finalists announced:

Drew Cattlin, Nick Griffith, Heather Perry, Chris Baca, Kyle Glanville. Both Drew and Baca! This makes me so happy and almost kind of choked up, because their slots in the finals are products not just of passion and hard work but of being awesome enough to inspire each other to great levels. These guys drove cross-country for the first time for each of them to get here, carefully importing their modded Anfims and favorite milk from Northern California to the North Star State. One had trained the other, they competed both together and against each other — I don’t know how this works with friends without being hard sometimes (Lucey and Teisl, how do you fuckin’ do it?) but something about these guys’ climb to the finals is super cinematic and love-filled. Right on, you two.

Five of those six finalists are from the Western region, by the way. Maybe those astronomical scores from the WRBC weren’t off the bell curve after all: these people must be fucking good.

No hotel pool tonight but after a little decompression time, Amber and Mike and I head out to meet the Alterra peoples and then move off to the Barista Guild of America party. We are all very tired and a little lost on our way to the party, but luckily run into a disoriented James Hoffmann (”Sorry, I’m a little freaked out, the party had a lot of flashing lights and was loud.”) being very British and retiring from the festivities early.

There is a cluster of people outside (Reg Barber using a whole lot of flashbulb, Willem Boot getting high on the sidewalk) but we brave the smoke machines and Medieval lounge atmosphere anyway in order to, I guess, talk to all the people who are here to talk to all the people too. Though Latourell is hosting his usual Dance Fever blend of fun in the main room, I end up somehow constantly immersed in groups of Canadians, who seem to be making up up an inordinately large part of this conference. Where do they all come from? And with only 30,000,000 people in the country, who is at home stoking the fires? There are a lot of New Yorkers, though, and it’s a vaguely comforting combination of worlds when the New York Coffee Society’s Daniel Humphries does chase us down on the street and tries to discuss Amber’s career, uh, at 2:30am on the way back to the hotel. Eff networking, it’s time for sleep! This is almost done and we are going bowling in the morning!!

By the way, I forgot the most frightening thing anyone has said to me so far this conference:

“I’m from the Ugly Mug. What are you doing Sunday night?”

Hopefully that guy won’t find me today!!

Back to the competition… Mike Philips (Intelligentsia Coffee and Tea, Chicago, IL) is up. I feel like he’s tighter than at GLRBC. He doesn’t. His coffee is two Brazil pulp naturals and a washed El Salvador. It tasted good this morning when I was asleep. I mean asleep standing up in the convention center.

Phuong Tran (Lava Java, Richfield, WA) smiles throughout her routine. Milk sprays over the edge of her small steaming pitcher — “this can happen,” she says. But you can just correct it, she continues. “It takes skill.”

It turns out the sesame-ink letters she’s been calligraphy-painting on judges’ bowls are the judges’ first initials. If she weren’t so charming and actually going to pour the espresso in over top of the sesame as a flavor, this would be cheeky as all heck. But it’s nice.

Back behind the projection screen I run into Bob Yellin. “It’s like asking who’s better? Picasso or Rembrandt, when you’re competing at this level,” he says.

Justin Teisl (Alterra Coffee, Milwauke, WI)! I really like hearing a Milwaukee accent say “burdock root”.

JT’s music is really great. It starts with some Mum-y/Sigur-Ros-y thing I know but can’t remember what it is, then kicks up at just the right moment in competition. He’s really in flow and when someone is really just cruising through a routine I don’t know how to take notes — at least pictures are easier. I’m starting to absorb ambient tension/excitement for my friends. I don’t even think it’s the caffeine.

I eat some food and try to get some nerd time in while a couple of competitors go; back intime to watch Scott Lucey (Alterra Coffee, Milwaukee, WI) who has changed his music back to Jay-Z and other things that I think will bring the energy more than his soundtrack the other day. He gets up there. Things feel right. It’s on!

Scott has to dump his first two capp shots, but today he is really comfortable (or acting it) and even this seems kind of done in a casual and friendly manner.

When Lucey is at his best he really connects with a room in a way that goes well beyond the sum of judges and audience: he addresses the room with this really serious politeness while still being weird and funny and somehow really welcoming and engaging. You don’t really feel that separated from the stage floor or the remove of the performative environment while watching him compete. I’m guessing this is the same reason he tends to generate a little bit of cult status: there’s this mixture of passionate earnest decorum and total informality that people feel so comfortable with and want to be around. Total Midwest, in every single one of the best ways.

“Here comes the signature drink!” declares Lucey, deploying Colonel Custard again — the judges will taste notes of sour cherry “in a good way” in the espresso, and as they are drinking Lucey has a full minute to clean, thanks everyone completely sincerely, and ends with “That felt good. Time.”

Ryan Willbur (Intelligentsia Coffee and Tea, Los Angeles, CA) is really, really comfortable. Snoop Dogg’s “Sensual Seduction” changes to something else — and Lucey shouts “Rock!” and “Go Ryan!” from the adjacent station during his cleanup time. Ha.

Ryan introduces his coffee and returns one capp to the prep table to wipe down. A lot of this kind of thing is happening today.

He introduces his signature beverage with, “As much as I wanted something to drink that was relaxing,” and explains why his isn’t. I’m certainly not relaxed and I didn’t even have any.

I take a little break from watching competitors intently and discover the online chat going on with the live video stream. This is totally psycho. I’m sitting 40 feet around the corner from James Hoffmann and Scott Lucey, talking to them online in a chat window next to a live video feed of the event we are actually AT. I am such an absolute nerd that this is actually tremendously appealing. I gotta stop. I give the computer over to Anne Nylander and grab my camera for Baca.

Chris Baca (Ritual Coffee Roasters, San Francisco, CA) is so good and fluid I don’t even really pause to write or take myself out of the moment. I know his espresso is GOOD. I am getting really tense wanting so much for so many of these amazing baristas — and human beings — to win. The tension coming off the stage and within me is combining into a kind of freaky froth — plus I’m tired. Baca remarks that his favorite thing about his cherry lime cheesecake signature drink is the “textual diversity” of his drink. Naturally once these hit the bus tray the drinks have been reduced to tiny homogenous drips. Rats.

USBC 2008 Semifinals Part One

Natasha Lebedev (Zoka Coffee, Seattle, WA) opens, once again staunchly defending the acidity of much-maligned vinegar. She’s good. I’m hungry.

Crowd favorite Lem Butler (Counter Culture Coffee, Durham, NC) hits second with an easygoing and positive attitude. His signature drink includes a Fatima Brazil and Dolok Sangul — the latter roasted “longer than usual” (which for CCC is truly saying something) to up sweetness. Lem’s graceful good attitude will serve him well as he begins his routine by preparing his signature drinks at the judges’ table — only to have his honey squirter crumple, the lid fall off, and honey to go all kinds of places it shouldn’t.

We’re only a couple minutes in and this seems like total disaster — but Lem acknowledges things can go wrong, especially in a cafe — and you simply try again. He returns to the signature drinks, giving us the breakdown of each component (cucumber, lemon juice, ginger) by gram weight! Though visibly concerned about the time loss time and shaken by the early meltdown, Butler simply gathers himself and just awesomely pulls it together.

Lem has a really great stage manner. And he really moves when he distributes. In fact he almost moved into the ice machine. And Pele.

Cappucino pours aren’t well-defined, but Lem’s working on borrowed time now. Espresso come out last and the clock is counting down fast. Lem’s custom espresso blend, Twin Cities Express, is so-named because it won him the Southeast regional competition — thus gaining him an express trip to the semifinials here in the Twin Cities today. Awesome.

Lem serves his shots and calls time at something like 14:55. Amazing. Best recovery ever? Some think so.

Amber Sather (Supercompetitors Coffee & Tea, Inc, Brooklyn, NY) is polished but nervous. Here comes a frustrating part of being a photographer: you’re standing on the other side of a competitor’s cappuccino cups with a big drip on one of them. And she doesn’t notice. Augh! I think Amber does really well but I don’t think this was her strongest showing — we shall see. Go Brooklyn!

Heather Perry (Coffee Klatch, San Dimas, CA) rolls into town next. Heather is talking faster than yesterday! It’s giving me palpatations.

Heather’s competition clock is OUT. OFF. Yikes. Luckily she can roll with it. She’s an efficient worker — clean and attentive. And talks very fast. Very very fast.

The Starpower competition is still going strong down the competition hallway. Sequins are starting to cover the ladies’ room floor.

Kyle Glanville (Intelligentsia Coffee, Los Angeles, CA) switches up his “what was once maple…” and describes it instead as like a Werther’s original. His pours look amazing, and he really talks right to the judges. The lumpy stuff in his signature drink that I saw yesterday and didn’t know what they were are macadamia nuts.

I sneak out looking for food and am waylaid by both scheduling and Andrew Barnett making a truly brutal stream of food puns. (Me: “I might get a banana.” Andrew: “That has appeal.”) Deferio is walking in the woods again. And I gotta stop typing in these notes and watch Baca. Sorry for the time delay. I blame the online live chat and Reg Barber’s flickr stream. More in a couple competitors.