What I've learned... (Part 3)

After two cathartic but admittedly fairly heavy pieces of writing, I thought it might make sense to just bottom-line the lessons I've learned from Brewers Cup in a way that might be of use to others. So, without further ado, here is my Brewers Cup crib sheet.

1. Don't just read the rules, remember them.
   
   Reading the rules is one thing, remembering them is another, and in Brewers Cup there are a lot of rules to remember. Some are obvious, some not so obvious. Start familiarising yourself with the rules as soon as you can in order to avoid being caught out on the day — if you try to cram everything into your head the night before, like I did, you will inevitably forget something. Also, as the rules are updated each year, make sure you have the latest version to hand. (Your competition coordinator should send you a copy early on, so there's really no excuse!)
   
   

2. Bring a friend.
   
   Not only is competing with a friend much more fun, it is actually much more practical, too. As exploitative as it sounds, having someone to help with the more menial tasks — the weighing of beans, the stacking of trollies, the polishing of teaspoons, etc. — is immeasurably helpful as it allows you to concentrate on brewing and presenting as well as you can, which is really what you are there to do. Furthermore, you've automatically got someone to celebrate or commiserate with, depending on what happens. Just make sure you buy them a beer when its all over. And don't forget to thank them in your speech.
   
   

3. Practice, practice, practice.
   
   This one probably seems obvious, but, there really is no such thing as too much practice as far as competitions are concerned. Although things can still go wrong on the day (as I've shown) you'll be much more equipped to deal with them if you've practiced hard in the run-up. There are a number of clichés I could throw in here, but "practice hard, compete easy" is probably the most apt. Try to do as many run-throughs as possible, in front of as many different people as possible, and get as much honest feedback as you can. I didn't do nearly enough practice this year, and I imagine it showed.
   
   

4. You can't evaluate taste via Facebook Messenger.
   
   In Brewers Cup, not only are you judged on how your coffee tastes, you are also judged on how accurately you describe how that coffee tastes. For example, if you say your coffee is going to taste like black tea, cherry and jasmine, but the judges only taste black tea, you're in trouble. This is what happened to me and, while these certainly weren't my best brews, the main problem was that I hadn't tasted my coffee properly. I was going off tasting notes communicated to me via Facebook Messenger, and I wasn't trusting my own palate. I could go on and on but, in short, coffee is a sensory thing and it needs to be evaluated in person. Comparing tasting notes via Facebook Messenger is a relatively pointless exercise.
   
   

5. Fall in love with your coffee.
   
   Last year, in both the first round and the finals, I used coffees that I was absolutely smitten with. The first was the Finca El Diamante, from Colombia, and the second was the Juliette AA, from Kenya, both of which were roasted by Five Elephant in Berlin. These were very different coffees, but what they had in common was that I loved them both with a fiery passion. I wanted to share them with everyone. I wanted to shout from the rooftops about just how extraordinary they were. There was nothing wrong with the coffee I chose this year, I just didn't feel any such connection to it, and I really have no idea why. If you're not passionate about your coffee it will probably show, so fall in love with your coffee like it’s the idiot who sat behind you in Year 9 Maths. Or, I don't know, whatever it is that reasonable people fall in love with.
   
   

6. Your past success means nothing.
   
   This probably sounds a bit grave, but allow me to explain. When you've done well in competitions in the past, you can end up feeling as though you're entitled to do well again — that you'll just be waved through to the semifinals, or finals, or whatever. Well, it isn't true. A new year means a new scoresheet, a new leaderboard, and new judges. Your past success means nothing and is no guarantee of success in the future, so get off whatever pedestal you've put yourself on and get to work. (This is one of the hardest, most humbling lessons I've had to learn, and so I recommend avoiding it if you can.)
   
   

7. Bring an extension lead.
   
   Yes, bring an extension lead. Or two. If I'd had an extension lead, I wouldn't have missed out on that practice time, and the day would have gone a lot smoother. It’s a simple tip, but it could pay dividends.
   
   

This piece was originally published on blkcoffee.co.uk in 2017.