This Latte Will Bring Us Closer

Making their meanest “Judges” faces

Last Thursday I went to my first Latte Art Competition.  It was a Latte Art THROWDOWN, to be exact, presented byLos Angeles Thursday Night Throwdown, aka LATNT, at Fix Coffee in Echo Park.  It was a community event, bringing together people from some of the finest coffee shops on the Eastside.  There were competitors from Fix, Intelligentsia, Coffee Commissary, Cafe Dulce, and Handsome Coffee among others.

Does it seem like a room full of coffee geeks and TOMs-wearing baristas would be all macho about pouring the perfect rosetta design into a latte?  The answer is yes.  Yes they would.  A throwdown?  There may be no sweaty announcer a la Randy Savage, but spectators and competitors alike were just as amped.  Everyone would crowd in to see the drinks handed off at the end of the bar, and cheered for first-time pourers.  One guy even brought his own milk pitchers.  We also were well-fed and well-equipped to party and pour some drinks.  Everyone chipped in.  There were donations from Two Boots Pizza, Golden Road giving us some tall boy cans of Point the WAY IPA and the GR Hefeweizen, accessories from LA Coffee Club, which ships locally roasted coffee to its subscribers, amazing samples from Verve Coffee Roasters, and contest beans supplied by Beyond the Grind.

So how does it work?

Two baristas go head-to-head, splitting a double shot of espresso into two 8oz cups, while each of them steams their milk.   After they pour their magic, they shuffle it over to the panel of discerning judges, usually to a chorus of “oohs” from the onlookers.  Then the winning cup is declared by a fist on the table.  In the event of a tiebreaker, the judges call out a new shape (rosetta, tulip) or new milk (nonfat).  (There were several threats of “Soymilk,” which always garnered a laugh.)  So it goes on to the final round, when the winner takes home a big pot of money from the entrance fees.  And who doesn’t want free beer money?  That would make my week.

The LATNT is the ground floor into the world of specialty coffee competitions.

From there it goes on to Barista Nation, and the U.S. and World Barista Championships.  In the upper echelons it is more complicated. Competitors must pour a single espresso, a cappuccino and a signature drink for multiple sensory & technical judges.  It’s easy to scoff at, but it’s just as serious as any cooking or pastry competition.  Brewing coffee is a science, and its very easy to tarnish the taste of these delicately roasted beans when placed in the wrong hands.  The beauty of local roasters like like Jones Coffee in Pasadena and Handsome Coffee in Downtown LA, is that they bring coffee to the height of wine.  The flavor descriptors on that $5 single-origin cup of coffee is no bullshit.  You really can smell and taste the caramel, hazelnuts, and even sage or strawberry.  Terroir is not just for wine.

So if one day you find yourself invited to a Latte Art Competition by that barista friend, do yourself a favor and check it out.  You’ll meet some good people having a good time.  And feel free to wear flannel.

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This round of Thursday Night Throwdown began in January.  Finals will be in November.  Stay tuned!

And check out the feature of the event by coffee blogger Smdlr.  She knows what’s up! 

My First Cup of Coffee

After a fantastic dinner at Akasha in Culver City, I am pleasantly full and feeling equally in a romantic mood to make a post. I am a Foursquare addict, and I got a free latte with my meal after checking in tonight. As I was staring into the swirling designs of the crema and milk, I thought back to my strongest memory of drinking coffee.

(Like my beer entry, this was certainly NOT my first cup of coffee in my life. Sure I'd had coffee at home, at shitty diners and my school cafeteria, but this is the ideal memory.)

I'm 16 years old, and it's the summer after my sophomore year of high school. I go on a 3-week trip to France, starting and finishing in Paris. My parents booked a penthouse to rent in the 5th arrondissement near the Sorbonne. Fabulous. Fabulous. It's 6:30 in the morning and I shoot out of bed. Jetlag? My brother and I connect in whispers and decide to go out for a very early breakfast. We take a stroll through the just-washed streets, not yet filled with busy Parisians. My teenage eyes soak in the majesty of the mythical city, so eager and hungry to see what all the fuss is about. We come to a corner, and walk into a cafe as the waitress was busy setting up. We were the first customers.

All I order is a pain au chocolat and a cafe au lait. The croissant? It was that angelic combination of flaky butter and semi-sweet chocolate. The coffee arrives in a large white bowl, which warms your hands as you drink. Who knows where this coffee was roasted, or what method they used to prepare it, but coffee was not coffee before this morning. It was the atmosphere, the hunger and anticipation. After we paid the tab and were on our merry way for a day of kitschy tourism, I knew I was hooked.

And I sure am. Sometimes on my days off from working at a cafe, I forget to get coffee until after dark. I get the classic headache, and become a moaning, aching addict. In those most desperate of situations, even Coffee Bean will do.

felicious

photo: the Wandering Eater

Brunch in Brentwood

Amandine Cafe
12225 Wilshire Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90025
(310) 979-3211
http://www.amandinecafe.com/


Weekend Brunch--the envy of baristas everywhere. Since I'm no longer a coffee-slinger, I had the good fortune of going out for brunch on Saturday.

Amandine Cafe, one of the shiny Wilshire breakfast joints I've seen from the car. The term amandine refers to a dish served with a garnish of almonds. The almond is my favorite nut, so I can't wait to try the almond croissant the next time I go.

We parked on the street, and entered through the rear patio. This place is small, but packed, and running speedily and efficiently. Runners and waiters and cooks whizzing by in their sleek white uniforms and caps, as we passed by the chatty diners. What a spread! Fresh baked artisan loaves and baguettes, huge danish, and delicate, buttery croissants glowing behind glass partitions, begging me to eat them. "Hey Fee. Just give me a try. You won't regret this chocolately filling," said the croissant. "No!" I shouted. "What would my boyfriend say?"

The breakfast menu is simple. French Toast served five ways and a variety of omelettes served with fruit and toast. At first Chason ordered it with the berries confiture, which is a berry reduction, essentially hot preserves, which I was excited about, but he went with the fresh strawberries intead. In addition, there are daily soup and quiche specials. Mon Dieu, I swear to you that French Toast is my favorite food in the world, but at the sight of a slice of Ham, Potato and Onion Quiche, I had to turn my head and go savory for once. I ordered my iced americano, and we found a table with a stack of plates on it. The seating was continually full. It was busy time--12:00 noon--so itd be common to see a few tables uncleared.

We waited for the food with our numbered placecards, in lieu of a paper ticket, while we looked at the humdrum photography for sale on the wall. "Third Year Photography Student," is a direct quote. Lots of out of focus bucolesque pictures of children and clouds, all for sale for more than 50 dollars.

The quiche came with a side salad of mixed greens in a mustard vinaigrette and a few cornichons. I tried one (the little French pickle). Not my thing. The quiche was chock full of cubed pieces of ham and potato, a little too much filling, I thought, and not enough egg. Once you put a fork in it, the bite fell apart. It was supposed to hang together by the layer of melted cheddar on top, but alas.

Chason's French Toast was scrumptious, better even than the donut-like French Toast they served at the Webb Schools dining hall. The strawberries were so tasty, and the texture wonderful. Slightly gooey inside, with a sugary crust. Mmm!

It was a good outing for people watching, I must confess. We sat in the vicinity of two solo diners, both hard at work with their heads buried in a book or a laptop, and next to another couple, who clearly had spent the morning cultivating other carnal pleasures.
There was a mother and her teenage son, who avoided her presence in vain, but finally talked to her over their sandwiches. There was an elderly man who unknowingly took the seat of two younger women, who I hope didn't make him move.

Most satisfying and delicious. A good amount of food. Perhaps slightly pricey, but the taste is worth the penny. I want to go back for more croissants and coffee.