October 10, 2004

Vancouver, BC—Seoul, South Korea—Singapore

First stop, Seoul, South Korea. I’m not looking forward to this 11-and-a-half-hour flight, followed by a six-and-a-half-hour flight to Singapore. It’s exciting to get an opportunity to represent Canada again, but this barista competition is a little different. This is the World Latte Art Championship, the first time this competition has ever been held. But honestly, I don’t have a clue how I’m going to do. I know I’m good, but man, I’ve been busy lately. I guess I’ll have to go with my experience and killer barista instinct, and hopefully come out with a top-three finish. I know each time I compete against the best from all over the world I become better prepared for the World Barista Championship 2005 in Seattle, the place where all my fellow Canadians can come and watch me kick ass.

I finally arrive and get to the hotel. Who knows what time it is, but I can’t sleep. So the only sensible thing to do is to go down to the bar and have a couple $15 dollar beers. I miss Vancouver already!

After a couple hours of sleep, I rush off to the Convention Centre and teach my first seminar and beg to compete tomorrow instead of later today because of the jet lag. But I’m too late. The competitors drew numbers the day before, and not only do I have to compete today, I’m the second competitor! Ah well, guess I better suck it up and be a man. But first, my seminar on creating signature coffee drinks is about to start. Instead of the 20 people I expected, I have an audience of about 100. This is a good boost for my confidence.

The competitors in this competition are really impressive. We have to serve four drinks in five minutes: a latte, a mocha, a macchiato, and a signature drink of our own creation. All coffee drinks have to be prepared with either free pour latte art or sketching on top of the coffee using sauces and syrups. After the first round, I find myself in a three-way tie for third place.

To be honest, I was pleased with a tie for third place, but at the same time, I was pretty disappointed. I could have done better; I should have done better. I know I have critics, but no matter what anyone else has to say, I’m my toughest one. I’m my toughest one. Even though I didn’t know what to expect from this competition, and even after I saw how good the other competitors were, I knew I could win. I just wasn’t sure what I had to do to pull this off.

The one thing other than top-notch barista skills and fabulous coffee that this competition is meant to demonstrate is showmanship. So I decide to do some research. Instead of relaxing by myself and focusing on the technical aspects of my competition like I usually do to prep for a final round, I leave in search of some Singapore Slings. I end up at the oldest hotel in Singapore where the Sling was created—what luck! After about six Slings and too much Sambuca, I’ve convinced myself that I will achieve showmanship in the finals by pouring my drinks blindfolded. By the end of the night, I’ve graduated to being determined to perform my entire competition blindfolded—dosing, tamping, milk steaming, drink pouring, and even serving.

October 12, 2004 | Singapore

It’s nuts up on stage. The crowd is so scared for me. But somehow, everything goes perfectly, and I hardly spill a drop. Is this good enough though, I wonder, to beat Chichiro Yokoyama from Japan? He’s been among the top 10 baristas in the world for the past two years and is by far the best coffee etcher I’ve ever seen. His performance here is flawless, it seems to me. So it’s up to the judges, and now we wait.

The awards ceremony seems to take forever. In sixth place, Korea. Fifth place goes to Japan. Australia comes in third. And now, there are only two spots left. The announcement seems to drag on for an eternity. I remind myself what a great year I’ve had competing in barista competitions, having won the Canadian national championship for a second time, and now to finish in the top two at this competition as well as at the World Barista Championship last summer in Trieste, Italy. So I’m pretty stoked no matter if Chichiro wins or I do.

And now, in second place…Chichiro Yokoyama! Here I am in front of hundreds of people clapping for me, the first-ever World Latte Art Champion! It felt great. The trophy is massive, but best of all is the title and being a part of a special competition that makes me feel so great. All I can do is wonder how long it’ll take the rest of the world to take notice so that one day, competitions like this will be on television.

For the moment, however, I’m on my way home, where I’ll resume work pouring latte art and superb espresso for our Caffé Artigiano customers. If we’re ever going to get the public recognition that barista competitions deserve, we’ve got to keep doing it with consistency and skill one customer at a time.

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