This means I see people on a daily basis ordering drinks much too large.  This isn’t about calorie or fat content (but I admit to internally giggling when someone refuses whip cream on a large mocha, because it’s adding calories.  Yes, that puff of air-y foam will put you over the top with your twenty ounces of coffee, chocolate, and high-fat dairy.)

This is about flavor.

Americans notoriously indulge in the gimongous, and I don’t think it’s because we WANT massive quantities.  I think it’s because the restaurants we frequent have high costs in order to stay open, and because the MAJORITY of these places can’t offer extremely high-quality haute cuisine where you’ll pay twenty bucks for a prettily garnished quail egg, they compensate by increasing the amount of food offered.

It’s shifted our perspective on food and drink quantities.  Have you noticed how much our dishware has changed in the past fifty years?  Go to a thrift store and check out the “vintage” dishes.  They’re much smaller.  Meanwhile, I’m hard-pressed to find any mug in my cupboard less than 16 ounces, nor do I have much success at it out at the dinnerware departments (I spent a massively frustrating amount of time trying to find 8-10 ounce mugs and cups for some projects at work, and was repeatedly disappointed at every single turn.  World Market was the ONLY shop I found small mugs at, and in very limited variety.)  Ceramics come in gigantic jug-sizes.  Even at work, our medium size cups are rather large, and our large mugs are nothing short of ridiculous.

When I visited Moscow, Russia (which is like being transported back in time, on a cultural level), I constantly drank from glasses and mugs no more than 10 ounces.  Even a bottle of soda was much smaller, being based on litres instead of ounces.  It took some adjustment for my very American “go big or go home!” brain.  As our expanding waistbands can attest, bigger isn’t always better.

Take the movies for example.  They go from small – usually about 16 oz (which is not really “small” anywhere else) to the medium, which hangs around a gallon.  I’ve never been brave enough to order the large, but I’m sure it comes with a handle and a midget to carry it (apologies to midgets – I hope they’re at least paying you decently).  I bet the large popcorn bucket doubles as a tent.  They can give you boatloads of CRAP, because even though you know you’re buying CRAP, the fact that it comes in such amazingly huge quantities makes it somehow seem worthwhile.

But how much of that are you really enjoying (and how much do you continue eating just because otherwise it’s a waste of food and money)?  I’m willing to bet you get through about three handfuls of popcorn before you start hitting stale and cold kernels, soggily swimming in butter.  I know my soda’s usually pretty watery by the midpoint of the movie, and I never finish it (but I have this psychological need to drink something at the movies, so I still buy it).

The same goes for the ludicrously large drinks you’re ordering at coffee shops.  I get asked quite often to make the drinks “extra hot”.  This isn’t really possible, you see.  After about 160 degrees, the milk begins to scald and smell like butter.  I can’t, and won’t sacrifice quality for “extra hotness” (I got all the extra hotness you need, baby.  Sorry, sorry, couldn’t resist.)  I’m guessing you want it “extra hot” because no matter how well insulated your cup is, it’s going to go cold halfway through.  Simple thermodynamics, really.  Even if I DID scald the crap out of your milk and make your drink tongue-searingly steamy, it would STILL lose temp halfway through.

Most importantly, and tragically – you’re not getting the flavor experience out of that drink that I dearly wish you would.  ESPECIALLY where lattes and cappuccinos are concerned, and even coffee (but to a lesser extent – coffee flavors change, but don’t always necessarily degrade as temperature is lost; some can become quite pleasant as they cool, but it’s still for the best to keep them nice and warm).

Did you know, my dear consumer, that the classic and traditional Italian cappuccino is a mere 5.5 to 6 ounces?  There’s still some debate over the technical details, but the bottom line is this; smaller is better.  In a smaller drink, constructed with artisan sensibilities, you will have an even more amazing experience of flavor and texture than you ever will in your 20 ounce capp-monstrosity.  (Here’s something else that may blow your mind, if you’ve been getting your spro shots from certain large four-legged or fish-tailed chain stores – espresso is supposed to be sweet, not entirely bitter, and should be drunk for the enjoyment of the flavor, NOT the caffeine jolt.  Stupid doubleshots in a can.)

At my shop, you can always order what we call a “euro short”, an 8 ounce cappuccino or latte.  I’m sure many other fine coffee establishments have similar drinks.  You could also order a REAL macchiato.  It hurts me in my squishy places when someone orders the “caramel macchiato”, a drink that was developed for the sole shady purpose of forcing other non-green-lady coffeeshops to attempt a recipe they don’t know, and inevitably lead to dissatisfied customers who THINK they’re ordering something fancy and traditional.  It’s sabotage.  A macchiato is espresso and a bit of milk.  That’s it.

But back to the point of this posting.

If consumers wake up a bit and educate themselves, and educate their palates, they just might find satisfaction in smaller quantities.  They might find themselves willing to pay a bit more, to ensure they’re getting something delicious and amazing.  They MIGHT (and I know this is just a dream) stop rushing about, and actually have a seat.  They might absorb a bit of the space around them, and just BE for a few moments.  Would they, could they, suddenly engage in spontaneous discussion with the table next to them?  Is it possible that a bit of rabble-rousing and philosophy might once again spring forth from these little corners of Bohemia that appear in the forms of local cafes?

I hereby declare the Smallification of America to be underway.  Go forth, denizens of the world, and order little things.  Order small, order miniature, seek out the FLAVOR.  Demand quality for your dollar, not quantity.  Stop ordering 20 ounce coffee drinks!  Have a POT of tea, and a small cup, and observe how amazingly warm your tea stays for a longer time when you’re enjoying small sips of it, a bit at a time!  Sit down, appreciate, enjoy!

Smallify!

I would say the same about blooming teas, really.  I’ve yet to find a blooming tea that I actually enjoy drinking, but they’re really damn pretty in a glass teapot.  We used to display a bloomer at my former place of employment, and it was a hit with the ladies.  The teapot sat on a glass warmer, and the simple little tealight provided such a nice reflection while the blooming tea pod bobbed around inside (until it’d sat too long and gotten a bit soggy and decayed-looking).  However, without a warmer, glass teapots don’t retain a whole lot of heat.  They’re about on par with porcelain.

One of these days I’ll do a comparison of materials… Glass is thinner than porcelain, but porcelain can hold cold fairly well, and a nice hot pot of tea will cool pretty quickly if you don’t preheat the pot.  Cast iron is touted as the best retainer of heat, and it’s true that those buggers get really bloody hot.  Yixing is also a good heat retainer, because of the porous clay’s ability to hold onto warmth.

I’ll pencil that in…

So today I brewed a bit of sencha in my fancy little kyusu, and took pictures, because I am a huge geek.  If you want to learn more about kyusu, Another Tea Blog provides a really nice explanation.  There’s really not a whole lot to it.  No one-armed dragons descending from the heavens to instruct the Japanese in proper teapot manufacture, no tales of tea from the Kojiki (which, by the way, is incredibly sexual to an amusing degree.)  I’ll spare you the wild version of Japanese creation myth which leads to kyusu in my mind…

The tools. One kyusu. One fancypants tea spoon. Sencha.

Just add hot water!

Kyusukachoo!

It’s really comfy to pour with, and might I also add; green tea poured over a bit of vanilla ice cream is del~ish!

Now go forth and kyusu!

USBC Champion Mike Philips is scheduled to appear on Oprah this Friday!

http://baristamagazine.com/blog/2009/03/11/the-big-o/

I’m not a huge fan of Oprah, but I am a huge fan of publicity for the profession! Here’s hoping it’s about baristas and the competitions, and not quite so much about Intelligentsia.  Sure, they deserve their due – he does work for them, they ARE a Chicago company, and she’s, of course, from Chicago… BUT Mike paid his own way to the USBC, and started his profession in the home.  He represents US baristas now, not just Intelly

Maybe now Food Network will open its eyes and realize barista competitions are cooler than styrofoam cakes.  Maybe.  Oprah’s clout is scary.

I also realized I haven’t said anything about our champ since the USBC results were posted.  Shame on me!  I admit, I was definitely wowed by him at the GLRBC, and surprised to see he didn’t go further in the finals.  His mad scientist treatment of the coffee was really impressive.  Splitting the spro for the signature drink?  Whoa man, my mind was blown.  I was thrilled to see that he made it to Portland on his own steam, end even more excited to see him get into the finals.  There was much Scott Lucey buzz, and while I also appreciated Scott’s performance and skills, something in me really wanted to see Mike take it.  So cheers for Mike!

It did bring up a lot of discussion about how the judging is handled – not to the effect that people don’t think he deserved to win (oh, he most definitely did), but seeing so many Intelliristas in the finals was tough on the audience, I think.  I’m sure people will accuse me of being anti-Intelly, or believing they didn’t earn their way in – I don’t believe that at all.  But I do believe, from my very brief experience as a judge, that a lot could be done to improve what goes on in the scoresheets.  Judges could be better trained (I was somewhat surprised to see people judging at the nationals who’d never done it before… at the regional level is one thing, but nationals are something different entirely.)  They could also be better compensated.  I’m sure if the SCAA wanted to put more emphasis on the judging, and in return for the judges’ time, provided transportation to various events, there’d be a much more hardcore pool to access.  I also have to agree with folks who’ve been saying tech should be worth a little more than it is, to balance with sensory.

But anyhow! Enough of that! Everyone set your DVRs to record on Friday!

1. Coffee coffee coffee. That’s what it’s about. That’s what you should talk about. The competitors who fared best were competitors who spoke at length about their origin, their flavor notes, how they’re manipulating the espresso blend or working with it for their signature drink, and so on.  I’m a bit torn on this…

We know coffee, as judges – a competitor should be able to indicate a depth of knowledge without limiting himself to discussion just on a coffee’s origin or what the espresso tastes like.  If someone’s talking about coffee history or philosophy, isn’t that indicative of a much more far-reaching thought process in relation to The Bean?  Of course it demonstrates passion, and universality.

However, a competitor shouldn’t waste time in talking about things that have nothing to do with their coffee or why they’re there.  Which leads me to;

2. Don’t badmouth previous employers, other companies (even Starbucks), OR yourself.  Even if you’ve clearly screwed up, move past it in a positive way.  Especially if you’ve screwed up, just don’t serve the drink.  Make a new one.  Maybe you’ll go over time.  It’s a quandary, sure, but I think I’d rather be disqualified for taking more than 16 minutes, than hand a judge a cappucino that I have to apologize for.

3. Construct your specialty or signature drink around the espresso, not around your personal preferences for a good drink.  I tasted some drinks that I loved, but weren’t meeting the expectations set forth by the competition, because the espresso wasn’t dominant or enhanced by the other ingredients.  The finalist whose drink I got to enjoy used ingredients that emphasized his espresso, as opposed to overpowering it.  Espresso is a strong, strong flavor.  It shouldn’t be hard to let it sing louder than the rest of the choir.

4. Get your hands on the competition machines.  This is a tough one, maybe even impossible, but the finalists I saw had definitely had the advantage of working with the Simonelli machines before.  I believe they also used either their own grinders, OR they’d been working on the same grinders offered at the competition.  Our competitors were working with completely new variables, and they found the flavors in their espressos changed profoundly.  This is a fascinating turn of events, but not exactly a happy discovery on the day of competition.

5. Know your stuff.  Know your coffee, of course, and don’t hedge your bets with too many descriptors.  Being able to say the espresso tastes like figs or cherries was a pretty big deal – but I’m a bit opposed to describing a coffee in terms of other foods.  If it’s a balanced espresso, and I’ve told you the sources are Kenya, Costa Rica, and Sumatra, for example, the judges shouldn’t HAVE to be told what coffees from those regions generally taste like.  That’s just my own little pet peeve, though.

Aside from the coffee, talk about other aspects.  If you have a special milk, that’s awesome. Talk about it.  If you got your signature drink ingredients from a local Ohio farm, TALK ABOUT IT.  Definitely think about these things, even down to what water you serve.  It all comes into play.

6. Be upbeat. This isn’t really an issue competitors had, and I don’t think it affected anyone’s scores… but the judges have, for the most part, been highly caffeinated.  And most of the competitors use ambient music, speak quietly, and generally sound like NPR golf announcers.  A little entertainment never hurt anyone.

I definitely can’t wait to get started, but first things first… And my raspberry keeps hiding behind my dairy.  That’s not a phrase you hear every day!

In the process of creating this drink menu, I’ve found myself on quite a rollercoaster.  There are times when I’m incredibly excited, shoving drinks under peoples’ noses for input and twittering on about how much fun it is.  And it IS fun, no lie.

But there are definitely times when I’m convinced it’s all going to be crap, nobody’s going to like it, and how can I even begin when I can’t even pull a decent espresso?  The more I work on these things, the more my ego gets wrapped up in them.  I dearly want them to be liked, nay, loved.  I want them to be perfect and wonderful and fulfill my too-high-hopes for them.  I think I’m setting the bar much too high for myself, for these silly little drinks.  It’s causing a crisis of ego.

To put into perspective, it takes about 2-3 months just to develop a single cocktail at the Velvet Tango Room, according to Paulius (their esteemed owner).  I’ve been working on 5-6 drinks over the course of about a month.

It’s not nearly as easy as it sounds, trying to make the espresso sing to you amongst the harmony and melody of the other flavors.  When it doesn’t work out, it can be positively shrivelling.

Especially when I’m having trouble just getting a decent shot of espresso – and I’ve fiddled with every possible variable to solve the problem.  It’s not you, espresso, it’s me.

I think I’ll be spending all day tomorrow making peace with the grinders and machine.

Wes, RZA and I ventured off to Chi-town early so we could attend the judges’ workshop on Thursday morning.  I stayed in a hostel, and it was super awesome – lots of foreign kids running around, and I wished I’d had more time to just chill and meet people.  My room was ridiculously HOT, and I had major flashbacks to band camp.  I was also by the El, so I could hear it all night – it was sort of comforting, being able to hear it pass now and then and watching the huge gobs of snowflakes falling outside.

My view from the hostel's front door.

As for the workshop, we’d all been sent rulebooks, but my understanding was that we’d spend most of the workshop learning the rules, and THEN be tested.  Oh, harr harr, nope. As soon as we got to the workshop, bam! Pop quiz time! I was just a little sweaty and panicked. Oh god, I traveled all this way to fail the test and be sent back to Phoenix in SHAAAAAME!  Disqualified from judging! Unacceptable! Demotion! Sure, I’d read through the rules, but so many of them defied common sense that I really didn’t KNOW the rules (for example, I had no idea competitors had to offer SUGAR to the judges, once upon a time. I mean, what? Really?)

Miraculously, I passed, and was overjoyed. Hooray.  More importantly, there was no coffee at the judges’ workshop. Water, sure, some pastry and fruit for breakfast, awesome. But NO COFFEE. Just a whole bunch of squirming and flailing to stay awake through most of the day (there was snoring).  Around 3pm, we started mock judging.  Yay, coffee!  And coffee! And more coffee! And another coffee!

I think you know where I’m going with this.  It was not a happy feeling at the end of the day.

Setting up the festivities outside of the judges' workshop.

After the workshop, we were invited to the meet & greet at Intelligentsia (which surprised me, I figured they’d want judges somewhat sequestered from competitors, but it was nice to have a beer, check out their roastery, and get to say hello to other baristi). There was also pizza. And a Simonelli machine, which the Jones family quickly took over, with a few other Phoenixers circling in a shark-like manner.  And beer.  Which was drank, in addition to the coffee.  I wasn’t hungry, just thirsty.

They eventually ran out of beer, which was a good sign to find somewhere else – and we did. Bar deVille, a swanky hipster joint down the street, which had a Frenchy-baroque sort of salon room in the back.  Whereupon much booze-swilling, belching, and general shenanigannary commenced, and the conversation drifted along the typical barista path; coffee coffee tea tea sex sex relationships… and back to coffee.  Did I mention lots of booze and coffee imbibing?

The word of the week was “chemex”. I think it came up at least three times a day, maybe more (especially since it seems every Intelli competitor was using chemex or had used it in some way during the presentation.) This was compounded by the raging chemex debate taking place on coffeed.com forums (which I kept checking in on on mah blackberreh, which doesn’t make me feel like a pretentious prick every time I whip it out). I couldn’t escape the chemex. Maybe -I- have been chemex-ed.  The suggestion was made that we all ought to get chemex tattoos.  It becomes a more and more attractive prospect…

Heather Perry emcee'd the whole event, as well as the Latte Art Championship.

During my first day of judging, I learned a lot. I learned just how complex and amazing espresso can and should always be. I learned that organic milk tastes like grass and isn’t nearly as sweet as hormone and antibiotic-laden dairy. I got to sit in on some exceptional people, and taste some exceptional things. I also got to sit in on some people that I really wanted to talk to after, to find out what drove them to compete and why they presented things in the way they did.

There was a lot of talk about origins, and a LOT of talk about flavor profiles and notes… the debate still rages about whether a competitor ought to be obliged to describe the flavors in his blend, or whether it’s enough to just give what coffees are in there and let judges find it themselves.  I know what Kenyans and Guats and whatnot generally taste like – it should be enough, in my opinion, because the judges should be knowledgeable enough in coffee to know what flavor notes to expect from a blend with El Salv, for example.  There’s also a certain degree of absurdity to this business of describing coffees in terms of completely other foods, but that’s a whole nother can o’ beans.

I want to talk about specific people, but that would be in poor taste… suffice to say, I probably left some pretty goofy remarks, but I at least hope I was as thorough and understandable as I could be.

Sarah works on her specialty drink, which is composed mostly of damn and tasty.

Caroline rocks the bar, and the judges' world.

The entire day, I think I only had saltines and water, in addition to all that espresso.  I was pretty tweaked by the end, even though I only sat for four competitors (I dearly wanted to do more, though). Because of being in calibration (where you sit with the other judges and make sure the scores across the board aren’t varying wildly) I missed both Caroline and Sarah’s presentations. I was so bummed! I know they did well, though, and I really hope they compete again next year, taking the knowledge and experience they’ve gained from this year.  Maybe it was good that I missed them, because it was REALLY hard to not be able to give hints and advice.
“Tell them what flavor your coffee is!”  Oh, blasphemy!

The sprodacious Roaster at Metropolis. I wasn't alone in my ogling.

After the events of the day, we went to the Metropolis ROOTS party, which was… interesting.  We got there too late to partake in much of the food (Ethiopian, yum! I love that spongey bread). I did, however, drool at their shiny pretty roaster, and enjoyed some of the table tennis and crazy baristi dance battles. I couldn’t stand the beer – I guess I’m not for IPAs, because it tasted like sour flower juice to me, and all that was left was the IPA (more brown ale, please!). Late in the night, there was a latte art throwdown, and I was urged to participate… at which point I noticed my wallet missing.  I don’t think anyone quite understood how frantic I was. I checked everywhere, and madly dashed for the car in the hopes I’d just left it there.

Well, I had, but not IN the car. It had fallen into the gutter by the door. Serendipity, baby. If I hadn’t been pushed to do latte art, I never would’ve thought to look for my wallet, and certainly, surely, wouldn’t have noticed it lying in the dark gutter if I weren’t looking for it.  Phew!

Still hungry, I coerced Stephen into checking out the sushi place next door… which was a sad mistake. We waited FOREVER, got our miso soup, and spent about 45 minutes waiting for potentially 20-dollar plates of sushi. In the meantime, the chef was hobnobbing and molesting a group of women that were apparently his groupies. It looked bleak. We offered to pay for our soup, and left… and ended up at a 24-hour taco joint where half a chicken was consumed by Wes, as well as cow tongue and enchiladas. More typical barista conversation ensued.  Coffee coffee, sex sex, tea tea, relationships and half an animal.

It was now Saturday, the last day of competition round one.  I only got to judge three people, but it was still a ton of fun.  I finally got to watch one of our Phoenixers compete, and Stephen did a fantastic job with his routine, even though at points I squirmed a bit and wished he’d pander to the judges – but of course what I knew of the various judges and their specific personalities was completely different from what Stephen had access to.

Stephen pours half his specialty drink and the ladies all swoon.

I also got to watch Scott Lucey and Mike Phillips, who both had some pretty fantastic stuff going on with their interactions with their coffee.  Mike chemexed his coffee for the judges first, then put his blend through a variety of acrobatics.  His signature drink was entirely clever, I thought.  He split the espresso into the sweeter and more bitter components, and added ingredients that enhanced the sweet and the savory respectively.  Scott Lucey did a similar trick, not really mixing his espresso with anything, but giving the judges a pre-flavor with grapefruit juice.  I wish I could have tried those!

After the day was done, and the six finalists were announced, we retreated in exhaustion to the hotel.  My feet were six shades of ridiculous – I’d had the brilliant idea to be fancy and wear fishnets the day before, which shredded my heels.  Compounded with a couple days’ worth of trudging through slush in shoes that just wicked the moisture right up, my feet weren’t happy with me.  We decided to stay in and have pizza and naps.  Oh, and haircuts, because Caroline is wicked rad that way.  The hotel staff HAD to be confused as to why there were empty pizza boxed and gobs of hair all over…

Suffice to say, in about 1600 words or more, this was a fantastic experience, and I’m so incredibly grateful to have had it.  I didn’t get to see much of Chicago (aside from a whirlwind hour-long dash through the Art Institute of Chicago’s Hindu/Buddhist art wing), but I saw a LOT of the coffee industry’s past, present, and future.

I will most definitely be competing next year.  Consider the gauntlet thrown!

Goodbye, Chicago!

We might even BE them.

So how do you identify them in the wild?

1. Do you wear tight tight pants? They probably don’t reach past the ankle, and unless covered by a shirt, very likely display everything you didn’t really want to see.  You might also be a hipster, but there’s about a 90% overlap between hipsters and sprohos/bros. You’re probably both.

2. Are you vegetarian or vegan? Waiflike, due to skipped meals and an overabundance of caffeine, which in turn leads to massive muscle twitching, which burns lots and lots of calories?

3. Do you have a visible tattoo of a portafilter, tamper, chemex, french press, demitasse, peaberry, coffee cherry, or otherwise unidentifiable-except-to-other-sproho/bros-object?

4. Do you speak at length about coffee origins, and drop names like Intelligentsia, Metropolis, Stumptown, or Stauf’s, but never, ever mention Starbucks without an appropriately practiced sneer?

5. Do you use Twitter, and follow more coffee and tea companies than actual friends?

6. Do you include in your requirements for mating; “must keep steamwands clean”, and won’t go to third base if he or she misidentifies a Sumatran?

7. In fact, you can attach sexual innuendo to every single part of an espresso machine without batting an eye. “They say the ruby is a myth.” “Don’t forget to flush your groupheads.” “Hey baby, wanna see my gasket?” “Ooo yeah, I’d tamp that.”

8. For sprohos, male baristi are automatically sexier than the regular population of men sheerly by virtue of being a barista. They gain about 10 sexy points while tamping.

9.  Do sprobros compare the size of their tamping arm? Or is it the poundage they can tamp? That’s simply something I don’t yet know, but I’m curious.

10. Are your hands permanently dyed coffee-color?  And when asked what perfume you’re wearing, can only respond with “House Blend.”

11. Do coffee beans miraculously appear in various creases and pockets of your clothing?

12. Does the word “spro” enter into your daily vocabulary, and get incorporated into other words – Sprohio, sprodacious, sprotacular, sprothrow, etc. etc.?

I’m sure there are many more identifying factors.  I’d love to hear em if you’ve got em.

Right now, I’ve got a chemex tattoo to design…

At least three of the drinks are at least ready for presentation to a tasting panel (something I’m super excited about, but have a lot of preparation for.)  The ginger-wasabi, which sparked this whole parade, is in pretty fine form.  The lavender and vanilla could probably still use a little tweaking, but I’ve gotten as far as I can go without secondary input, and the same goes for this basil-paprika concoction.

It is incredibly difficult to work these things out without having other folks around that you can just shove a drink at, demand they put it in their face, and get instant feedback.  I’ll admit, I don’t have the greatest palate in the world, and sometimes something seems good to me, but really… isn’t.  I’m excited about some of the changes and discoveries I made today, though.

For starters, what I’m trying to work with is a very confined and refined menu, with absolutely no variance. The drinks are what they are. You’re not going to get fat free, skim, sugar-free, etc. etc. with these.  However, I know our customer and employee base caters to a rather large contingent of vegans and vegetarians, so I should at least have an alternative to dairy.  This is difficult.

People greatly underestimate the effect of their dairy choice on the flavor of their drink. As one of our regulars (sup, Paulius) explained with great effectiveness, you need a tensile liquid to hold certain flavors. This is why I’m using half and half in my drinks.  It’s rich, thick, and carries smoothness through the drinks.  The only drink that’s completely not half and half based is the wasabi-ginger, because the soy milk works so effectively with the other flavors.

Soy is heavily water-based, which gives it a tendency to steep certain ingredients.  This is why you can, with great effectiveness, steep certain teas directly into soy (lapsang or jasmine are fantastic this way, as are peppermint or rooibos). Steeping doesn’t work well at ALL with animal-originating dairy.  Skim is negligible, but I think the fats in the milk inhibit solubility?

However, I don’t want to fall on the usual soy or not-soy options.  I had this great dream of a coconut milk drink, possibly with lemongrass or raspberry.  I tried coconut milk by itself, and when steamed, it was SO incredibly rich and smooth and thick – it seemed it could be very very dessert-like, and I loved that idea.

When combined with espresso, though, this really, really does not work. Somehow, the coconut milk picks up the sour notes in the espresso, or the other way around – the espresso enhances sourness in the coconut milk. Adding sugar just made it grossly sweet-sour, like drinking hot yogurt.  I was massively disappointed.

So now I have almond and rice milk to try out, and I’m hoping for good results. Almond is naturally going to be much nuttier than the soy – which may turn out nice with the raspberry-orange monstrosity I’m working up.

Another benefit to this sort of work – I’m so caffeinated and hyper now that the house is getting a nice, thorough cleaning.

I did manage to upload a whole boatload of photos to Flickr, which can be found and viewed here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/64856308@N00/sets/72157614288239461/

I can pretty assuredly say, Chicago changed me.  I was driven and ambitious before, but it resolved in me a sense of passion for this industry and the people in it.

It was incredibly hard to watch my friends from the sidelines, coming from the perspective of a judge… though I only got to actually watch one person, as I was in “calibration” during the rest of the time.

Can I just say, I LOVE being a sensory judge?  Getting to examine drinks opened my eyes in a big way to flavors and visuals from coffee, and being served fantastic specialty drinks that really emphasized and worked with the espresso was especially educational.

I’m so excited for next year. I’m definitely competing. But more importantly, I can’t wait to start really working to improve my skills just on a day-to-day basis.  Amazing drinks shouldn’t be confined to competition spaces.

I was a little bummed by Coffeefest, though.  I was hoping for something educational, like a science fair of caffeine.  It was pretty much just a large bunch of vendors, all trying to sell various syrups or travel mugs or packaging products. I wanted to talk to espresso machine manufacturers, and artisan roasters, and purveyors of fine teas…  There really weren’t any of those there.  My favorite booth was the chai booth – they were the most open-minded and friendly. I got ignored or turned away from a lot of booths simply because I was a mere plebeian barista, and no cafe owner.

But it ignited a someday dream of mine, to hold a REAL celebration of coffee – to bring roasters and growers together, and encourage the general public to attend and learn about this pervasive beverage. A place without pretention.

Yeah, I’ll let you know how that one works out.

Expect much geekery to come from this.

Follow my twitterings through the weekend! http://twitter.com/TytoAlba323

Ohboyohboyohboyohboy…