The world stage. I’ve made it. I’m prepared. I’m ready. The panel of judges stand and listen as I explain the brew method I’ll be using, their perfect mustaches stilled in contemplation. With absolute calm and as cool as a cucumber I ready my pour-over while I finish my speech. Coffee ground, water at exactly 205 degrees Fahrenheit, I start my bloom, then wait for the eternal space of thirty seconds. Break, not too heavy, but with just the right amount of agitation. Wait. Pour, circle, circle, circle, wait... Repeat. The clock continues to tick, and it’s as if every calculator watch in the auditorium is waiting on me. Circle, circle, circle, wait... drip-drip-drip. Three more circles, and done. Exactly 400 grams. The bed is so flat I could sleep on it. One hand behind my back, I straighten as I set my Japanese kettle down. The last drop ripples the surface of the brew at three minutes thirty seconds. I smile softly and run my gaze casually across the line of judges, who are nodding to themselves, brightly colored beanies covering the top 3% of their heads bobbing in approval. My finely tuned olfactory system can pick out the notes of my brew before I even taste it. White grape, rose, blackberry compote, honey. The TDS meter reads 22%. Just right. Applause breaks out.

Except, I’m not on the world stage. This isn’t Melbourne, but my own kitchen in Arkansas. Apart from myself only the cat has any attention to give to my pour-over, and he would be more interested in a glass of cold milk. My brew is about 7 grams over, I don’t have access to a TDS meter, and couldn’t tell you what blackberry compote tastes like, much less smell it drifting from the top of this thrifted coffee carafe. And my own mustache is far from perfect. But that’s okay, because this moment is real, and the real is better than some idealized fantasy.

As a coffee professional and classically romantic dreamer, it’s easy to get lost in the weeds of industry jargon and become unapproachable to the common person simply wanting a cup of Joe. The fact is we in this profession can often sound like we’re speaking another language, and it’s honestly pretty easy to poke fun at the nerdiness of it all. But I have to remember that what I really care about isn’t just a tasty beverage, but the community that I’ve seen fostered around it. Making coffee is fun, and sharing it with friends is even better. Those are my priorities: having fun, communicating well, and sharing what I have. So, let’s sit down for a cup sometime. Maybe we’ll discuss my brew ratio, or maybe we’ll just laugh together about life. I’m game for either.