Friday, October 22, 2010

Campeonato Day Two


One of our coordinators: Camila.



A Morning Americano.



Camila, Nathalia & Paola prepare for the day.



Judges Nathalie & Diana.



Tech Judges Ian and Danilo plot their scoring.



Juan Valdez's Mauricio Romero (the reigning champion) performs.



Judging Mauricio.



The serious competitor wears gloves during prep.



Judges geeking out on how fast they can start/stop the timer...



And end of day, waiting for Brent and Scott, plate of Tacos Carnitas.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

La Biferia


Scott Conary and Ian Clark



Mauricio and Lauro.



Our gracious hosts, Ana Julia & Luis Fernando.



Pretty good!



Tomato Salad...



Mixto de Chorizo y Morcilla y Arepa - very darn good.



Ian, Danilo & Jose pondering.



Through the looking glass.



Chuleton de Res.



Such good desserts.

And So It Begins...


Carolina: no rings...



Scared and flying high!



Scott preps his judges with morning calibration.



Day One and look at that audience. Amazing!



Judges relaxing in the lounge before the storm.



Senorita Varon doing her thing.



The crew from the local culinary school keeping it together.



Brent and the cappuccino.



Brent and the note taking.



Brent and the aeropress.



Scott makes sure everyone finishes their milk.



Talking to the judges.



Preparing a french press.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Burning The Midnight Oil


Crunching the numbers.

Most people think that when they go home it's all over and there's not too much to worry about. It's the night before competition and it's time to scramble, a little. Competitors means conflicts. Some judges can't judge certain competitors for a variety of reasons. Maybe they've worked together, maybe they're friends, maybe they've trained together, maybe they're lovers. Whatever the case, it turns out to be a tricky field to plow matching judges to competitors without overworking some judges or creating conflicts elsewhere.

I'm just glad that I don't have to do the actual juggling and retire to bed...


The list of competitors.

Greeting Baristas


Brent eats.

It's the night before the competition begins and we've found ourselves whisked into the Usaquen neighborhood where the barista welcome party is being held and we're the guests of honor. Luckily, since I'm just a plain old judge and not a head judge, like Jose, Scott and Brent, I'm not required to speak. Myself, Ian and Danilo can simply eat and drink our way through the evening.

And what an evening it was. Of speeches. Of congratulations. Of well-wishes, and of the drawing of competitors. Each competitor is given the opportunity to speak briefly and pull their number out of the bag. One through forty-three, the numbers are drawn. Some are happy, some are scared. It seems like a fun way to meet everyone, see the competition and choose your place in the order.


The baristas.

The difficult part is that we're judges. This means we have to be impartial. We cannot seem to have favorites. As such, we're really limited in our interaction with the competitors. We can't sit down and drink with them or get to know them. It truly is the downside of judging.

Instead, we drink at the bar, listen to the speeches, or hang out with the girls outside.


Ian and nachos.

Training Amy


Judge candidates listen intently on how to score the espresso.

Training baristas is a long and arduous process. Training judges is almost the same, except you only have two days to do it. The days are long and intensive. The first day was difficult mainly because I stepped off the plane at 5am and then walked into the training center at 10am - with no sleep in-between and almost no sleep on the flight.

But by the second day and practical exercises, I was basically rested and ready to assume my role as arbiter of all good things espresso: pulling shots and making drinks. Drinks that would be torn apart and critiqued without mercy. Drinks that were designed to be bad. Drinks that tried to be good.


Brent explains the finer points on taking apart my drinks.

The judges are a good lot. But it's interesting to find how local tastes sway the scores. Some of them want to go heavy on the penalization and it's difficult because you try to train them not to play the "bad cop" or "toughest judge" role. It's natural because everyone wants to show that they have some knowledge and standard so the first-time judge seems naturally disposed to being "tougher."

As the day progresses, all I can think is that I'm glad some of them weren't my USBC judges - they're tough!


RFTW - Ready For The World (barista championship)



These two ladies came by, asked for cappuccinos and got their wish!

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Andres Plaza


Scott at the fish counter.

If you've been to Bogota or heard about places to eat in Bogota, chances are you know about Andres Carne de Res, that crazy steak house out in Chia with a new location in Zona Rosa. Well, prepare yourself for Andres Plaza.

The only way I can think of describing Andres Plaza is like an Andres Food Court. All sorts of foods under one roof. It's madness and insanity wrapped up in tasty and delicious food. And our crew of judges went buck wild.


The boys gathering by the meat counter.



Scott's Tilapia



Ceviche



my traditional stew of beef, pork ribs and chicken with corn, potatoes and plantanos.



Lauro Fioretti's steak.

En Bogota


Bienvenidos a Bogota...

2,500 meters

And I'm unbelievably tired.

The flight to Bogota wasn't necessarily bad as it was brutal. As much as I think Continental has an overall nicer product than United, it's United's Economy Plus seating that trumps Continental coach. True, you can pay for DirecTV but flying five hours overnight in a packed plane is absolutely brutal.

And I was paying for it now sitting in the judges training room fighting desperately not to pass out from exhaustion.

Bogota. We had been here before. It's a cool city both figuratively and literally. Chilly weather and the altitude makes climbing anything a chore.

We're in town to judge Colombia's national barista championship and things so far are so good. It's going to be a busy week and we're getting cracking.

So long as I don't pass out.

More as they progress.

CO884 - Packed In Steerage

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Bacon & Eggs




The kids hiding in the woods must have been thinking: "Look at these two crazy fucks," as they watched us standing by the patrol car, lighting big cigars as blue smoke billowed around us.

We're standing in the wooded parking lot behind Towson High School after a series of calls from neighbors complaining about kids running amok egging things and making noise - a relatively benign call in this not-too-quiet suburban township. "We're gonna get egged," Scott assures me as we enter the woods, flashlights in hand, seeking out this group of miscreants disguised as high school students.

A few minutes later, a student emerges from the darkness covered in egg juice. He's winded, disheveled and tells us that he was jumped by some upper classmen who stole his money. "Are you saying they robbed you?" we ask - a definition that would change the situation from simple civil disobedience to perhaps a felony. "Or did you drop your money and they took it?" Turns out it was more of the latter and we tell the kid to get out of here and go home.

Just then, another group of students are running towards us, this time with cartons of eggs in hand. I wonder to myself, are these kids just dumb? Drop the eggs, you morons.

We instruct the kids to come forward in the middle of woods. It's been raining lately so the ground is damp and I'm in no mood to run and chase after anyone tonight. As we spot hesitation in their eyes, I can't help but to yell at them: "If you make my fat ass chase after you, someone is getting arrested!" Thinking the better of it, they quickly comply.

Eggs are everywhere. Broken shells, runny yolks, plastic bags, empty cartons and even whole eggs are littered around the campus. To be honest, it's all quite humorous and non-destructive. We laugh about it because it's not too different than the stupid stuff we did at that age.

In the distance, we hear light thumps coming from the direction of the patrol car. "Yup, they're egging our car," Scott says as we push forward through the woods, cigar smoke billowing, looking for any other stragglers.

When we return to the car, two other units have pulled up. It's a quiet night in the city so this is an interesting diversion. Perhaps we should call in air support. As we inspect the car, it's covered in eggs. Good thing we rolled up the windows.


The perils of life on the streets.

Back on the street, we find a Toyota Prius slowly cruising the neighborhood. We tail her for awhile and it's a mom looking for her child. Evidently, one of the kids hiding in the woods hoping we won't arrest her. Another group of kids, also sweaty and covered in eggs, emerges from a house with their mom as we sit in the neighborhood. The mom assures us that these kids have been in the house the entire night. Sure, mom. Just get everyone home.

The view of the world is interesting and different from this side of the windshield. While we want to act stern and cross, it's nearly impossible because the whole scenario is just comical. A bunch of kids in the woods egging each other. They're not causing mass destruction. They're not assaulting anyone. They're just out being mischievous and it's difficult to get upset about that - even though they egged the car.

In the end, it's a simple rinse with the hose at the station. The kids tonight are lucky. No one got hurt. No one got arrested. Had it been the other officer watching us rinse off the car, he would have arrested them.