What I've learned... (Part 2)
As I've mentioned, a few things went wrong on the day. Firstly, I woke up feeling terrible. Not because I'd been out on the piss or anything like that — I just felt terrible. It happens, and it has happened before. But because nothing seemed to be spurring me on this time, I couldn't get past it. Whereas previously my attitude would have been something along the lines of "come on, let's do this", this time it was more like "ughhh, I feel like garbage and I want to go home." It was as though I'd given up before I'd even brewed anything. You can't really succeed in a competitive setting with this level of resignation.
Secondly, I missed out on some practice time because there weren't enough power outlets for me to plug my kettle and grinder into. This is probably the least interesting part of my story, so I'll keep it brief, however it did leave me in a bit of a tizz. That said, it’s still an improvement on last year, when I missed my practice slot because I couldn't figure out how to check out of my high tech hotel. (No really, I am that much of an idiot.)
And, finally, the nail in my competition coffin — I got disqualified. You see, in Brewers Cup, you basically have two options when it comes to grinding your coffee. You can either grind your coffee before going on stage, using any grinder you like, or you can grind it on stage, but then only using the grinder provided by the organisers. If you use any other grinder, or if you grind your coffee during the five minutes' prep time given to you beforehand, you get disqualified. All of this is outlined clearly in the rules, a copy of which is e-mailed to competitors early in the process.
Now, despite several remarks to the contrary, I did actually read the rules. But on the day I had what Pink Floyd might call a momentary lapse of reason, or what I might call a catastrophic brain fart, and carried my little Wilfa Svart grinder out on stage with me. Whoops. That alone was probably enough to warrant a disqualification, but then I also ground my coffee during the five minutes' prep time, another big no-no. These are fairly simple oversights that I probably shouldn't beat myself up about, but, here's the thing — I didn't actually brew very well. At all. My scores were average at best. This is what I'm talking about when I say I failed with aplomb.
Coffee competitions are what they are and, while its wise not to conflate them with the day-to-day business of being a barista (or brewer), you do inevitably learn a lot from competing and, hopefully, you can put this learning to use in your day job. What happened at Brewers Cup the other week was an unfortunate but ultimately humbling experience, one that has given me a great deal to think about. I now have a much clearer idea of where I'm at in my career and where I need to go next.
When you own your own coffee shop, as I do, it can make you feel as though you know all there is to know about coffee. People come to you for advice and recommendations. You are, ostensibly, the expert. But you know what? I know nothing about coffee. I'm like that handsome guy out of Game of Thrones who does the Jimmy Choo ads from time to time — I know nothing. I mean, I'm sure I know more than the average person on the street, but is that really good enough?
Feeling like I know enough about coffee is precisely what has kept me from learning more. I've gotten complacent. This is something I've been aware of for some time now but, following the Brewers Cup debacle, I can no longer ignore it. Thinking of myself as an expert has meant that I've stopped trying, that I've stopped questioning why I do things, that I've stalled. And this is most likely how I managed to make so many mistakes the other week. But, to leave you with one of my favourite quotes from one of my favourite, er, philosophers, Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day:
"Making mistakes is a lot better than not doing anything."
This piece was originally published on blkcoffee.co.uk in 2017.