05.19.08
Posted in @ the Cauldron at 9:50 pm by The Coffee Alchemist
There are many coffee places in the world I would like to visit, for their blends, but more so for the staggeringly wider range of specialty coffee they offer. I’ve done imaginary cuppings of these mythical things and they are as cold as my nose against a glass window. Australia feels like a coffee outpost sometimes.
Then some kind friends, returning from far-flung coffee metropoles like Portland, drop by with contraband. As reward for my tips of reliable coffee haunts they come bearing Stumptown’s Hairbender and Ethiopia Tega and Tula repacked in my zipped valved bags.
Precious!
As espresso the Hairbender is every bit the legends make of it. It breaks in your mouth singing, seeks to fill the nooks and crannies then leaves with a deep lumbering hum. Bright, deep, complex.
The Ethiopia, is, well…grace. How does one describe grace bestowed in a demitasse? I can say groves and groves of ripe bursting fruits berry citrus and musky passionfruit succulent and sweet my mouth gurgling and guilty with juice. There are better words out there for this.
I wish coffee isn’t so ephemeral as I cling to a waning fistful hopeful that a coffee kindred can also see. But Mr Snuffleupagus leaves before anyone arrives.
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05.06.08
Posted in @ the Cauldron at 12:30 pm by The Coffee Alchemist
In August last year, I fell in love with this single-estate Australian coffee and I’ve been drinking it since then almost every morning through my vacuum brewer. In a realm ruled by espresso, I wished more could catch a glimpse of this coffee brewed this way.
So for my 15 minutes of competition time, in the NSW Barista Championship 2008, I decided to introduce this coffee to the judges through a cupping before I proceeded with the competition drinks - espresso, cappuccino and signature drink. With this extra course not having any bearing on the scores of the actual competition drinks, I still took time to offer judges a cupping of my coffee. I wanted them to experience the coffee in its barest form, before the mediations of espresso machine, milk and other things.
All the NSW sensory judges appreciated what I did and encouraged me to continue on the same path to the national competition. Things could not have been more different at the Australian Barista Championship 2008 finals.
I was informed that the judges will not be permitted to drink anything I offer them other than the competition drinks as I quote in the emailed notice:
“Baristas may choose to serve extra elements as part of their performance, but the judges will not be permitted to consume them or interact with them at all.”
I gave this much thought and I decided to still go ahead with a cupping. Cupping coffee is not incidental to what I do. It is fundamental. And I am not afraid to cup alone.
To my surprise and glee (an invitation to cup is the most heartfelt respect one coffee industry person can give to another and acceptance is respect reciprocated) the judges cupped with me. The ecstasy continued the rest of the 15 minutes I was accorded.
To my surprise and consternation, much later after the competition and during the judges debriefing, it was revealed to me that the judges handed me heavy penalties for the cupping. My cupping was considered a palate cleanser even though I made no mention of it being such and apparently it stood as my espresso offering. Thus all my espresso taste and tactile balance points were nulled, though it confounds me that the other espresso components like colour and consistency of crema etc. remained intact and counted. The judges’ total impression scores were also adjusted for penalties.
The agony sets…heavy, hanging and at times inextricable. Coffee has always guided me through bright constellations. In rare instances like these, it seems, coffee cannot repel the voids and holes.
Not all is dark as I leave the competition. A South Melbourne roaster offers the bright sparks of his cauldron and invites me for cupping. I accept. Ahh…the ecstasy and the agony and the ecstasy.
…and the slow burning fury.
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