Time.
Hello, Judges.
Wow, here we are again, the Finals of the World Barista Championship. I’ve had the opportunity to serve many of you in Finals before, and it’s my privilege to do so again, one last time. Your feedback over the years has helped shape me as a competitor and a barista, helped me to understand how I need to be better. This routine is a synthesis of all that invaluable information, and it’s only fitting that you are the ones who get to experience firsthand this presentation that I feel has been made in collaboration with you, the judges.
You see, I’ve made it to this stage of competition many times in the past—more than I’d care to admit really—but I’ve always fallen short of achieving the ultimate goal. Whether it’s been an incorrect flavor call or a dribble, an uneven tamp or missed eye contact, there has always been some failure holding me back. And after all these years, I’ve finally come to understand that all these mistakes are rooted in the same fundamental problem: me. Not me specifically, but me, a human being. It’s our humanity, flawed and messy and emotional, that keeps us from achieving the ideal. To overcome imperfection, we need to remove that which is unnecessary. We must rend the ghost from the machine.
And so today, I’m excited to present to you a glimpse into the future of coffee preparation: coffee without human intervention. I present to you The Death of the Barista. Every choice in today’s routine has been made with the help of artificial intelligence and everything that can be automated will be. Even this script was written with the help of ChatGPT.
We’re starting with the espresso course, and the coffee you’ll be tasting today was selected entirely by artificial intelligence. After analyzing the winning coffees and processing methods and flavor notes from the last few years of competition, AI selected an anaerobic fermented, thermo-shocked Panama Gesha for today’s routine. Using cutting-edge mass spectrometry, the coffee was assessed for the most abundant acids and compounds to determine what flavors would result, and predictive software was used to create the ideal roast curve to bring them out.
Drinks today prepared at a ratio of 20 gram of coffee in for 40 grams of espresso out, in 28 seconds, pulled over frozen spheres to trap in aromatic compounds, parameters chosen by analyzing past winning routines. In the cup, you’ll experience flavors of mango and stewed strawberries, with a sweetness and acidity reminiscent of brûléed pineapple.
Here you go, enjoy.
Here you go, enjoy.
Here you go, enjoy.
Here you go, enjoy.
Judges, there’s a fun secret about this coffee that I’d like to share with you. You are the first and only humans to ever taste it. Throughout the course of buying, roasting, and preparing this coffee, no one has tried it, not even me. We are at the mercy of the machines. I hope they’ve been kind.
We’re moving on now to the milk course—the order, by the way, was also selected by AI as the most likely to result in higher scores. This course in particular can be subject to human fallibility. Too much milk waste or improper temperature or wobbly latte art can result in marks on the scoresheet. And so today, we are leaving the milk making into the steadfast hands—or hand-like appendages—of the robots. The milk will be textured by an automatic milk steaming machine, which can bring the temperature up to exactly 50°C, that I will then transport to our Briggo-bot friend over here to perfectly construct your cappuccino-style beverages. And as a failsafe against any off flavors, the algorithm has selected a cow’s milk free-distilled to 6% fat content, ensuring that the coating flavors of melted Neapolitan ice cream and chocolate truffle mask any imperfections.
Your cappuccino.
Your cappuccino.
Your cappuccino.
Your cappuccino.
Our final course, the signature beverage, will really highlight the raw computational power and creative possibilities advanced technological intelligence offers and how the future of coffee is best served sans humanity. Along with the flavor notes of the espresso and past WBC sig bevs, we asked the AI to analyze recipes from popular cocktail books as well as include select ingredients to create something never before experienced.
To our flash-chilled thermo-shock Gesha espresso, we’re adding a 50/50 blend of lactic and malonic acids, that will transform the mango note into that of passionfruit. Next is a shiso leaf concentrate, to give the drink freshness, that will turn the stewed strawberries into flavors of ripe strawberries and basil. Lastly, a pineapple oleo saccharum, that will enhance the overall sweetness of the drink. Served chilled in a coup glass, the final component of your signature beverage will be an aromatic smoke. I ask that you don’t enjoy this drink until after I’ve called time, to allow the aromatics to enhance the experience.
Your signature beverage.
I hope you enjoy.
Your signature beverage.
Enjoy.
Whoa.
Judges, I want to thank you again for being here today and for taking part in the future of coffee. A future without human imperfection, where things like flavor and art and beauty can all be reliably created and reproduced by machines. As I believe my scoresheets will reflect, the human element is obsolete, and the only way for coffee to achieve perfection is without our intervention.
And so I ask in my final few moments on this stage with you today to raise your glass and offer a cheers. A cheers to the Death of the Barista.
And time.
****
He raises his hand in the air and presses the button on the small remote control.
He walks to the table and slowly paces from one end to the other. Make eye contact. Smile.
He walks to the espresso machine. He places the portafilter into the grinder and presses a pre-programmed button. He removes the portafilter. He places the portafilter into the grinder and presses a pre-programmed button. He removes the portafilter. He spins the distribution tool to break up the clumps and then another distribution tool to even the bed. He sticks the portafilter in the automatic tamper. He sticks the portafilter into the automatic tamper.
He wrenches the portafilters into the espresso machine and places four cups beneath them. He presses a pre-programmed button. He puts the cups on a tray and carries them to the table.
Make eye contact and smile.
Make eye contact and smile.
Make eye contact and smile.
Make eye contact and smile.
He walks to the espresso machine. He dumps the puck into the waste bin and cleans the portafilter. He dumps the puck into the waste bin and cleans the portafilter. He wipes the drip tray. He places the portafilter into the grinder and presses a button. He places the portafilter into the grinder and presses a button. He spins the distribution tools. He puts the portafilters into the espresso machine and places cups beneath them. He presses a button. He pours the pre-dosed milk into the pitcher. He puts the the pitcher onto the machine and the wand inside the pitcher. He presses a pre-programmed button.
He removes the wand and cleans it. He transfers the pitcher to another machine. He places the cups in front of the machine.
He moves the drinks to a tray and carries them to the table.
Smile. Make eye contact.
Smile. Make eye contact.
Smile. Make eye contact.
Smile. Make eye contact.
He walks to the espresso machine. He dumps the puck into the waste bin and cleans the portafilter. He dumps the puck into the waste bin and cleans the portafilter. He wipes the drip tray. He places the portafilter into the grinder and presses a button. He places the portafilter into the grinder and presses a button. He spins the distribution tools. He puts the portafilters into the espresso machine and places cups beneath them. He presses a button.
He walks to the table. He pours the espressos into a chiller. He squeezes a pre-dozed dropper into the chiller. He squeezes a dropper. He squeezes a dropper. He sets four glasses around a dispersion tool. He pours the liquid into the dispersion tool.
Smile and make eye contact.
Smile.
Make contact.
Connect.
He steps heavy but with purpose, light in their predetermination but carrying a new weight now, one of reality, electric with movement and inevitability. He approaches the espresso machine once more twists free a portafilter from the grouphead, feeling the rounded weight securing the portafilter in place as it slowly gives. He smacks the basket against the firm rubber coating on the knockbox bar. He drags a white dish towel around the interior of the basket, a mid-shift warmth on his index finger. He flips the portafilter in the air turning end over end, hands moving counterclockwise as though Time itself would turn back with them. He catches the handle and spins it rotationally in his hand, like a tennis player waiting to receive serve. It’s a habit of anticipation, something to keep the body engaged while the mind attunes to all the variables and potential variables for the task ahead, developed over years of practice that grips reliably and intuitively Semi-Western. Spout-side down.
He fits the portafilter into the grinder and presses a new button, watching the pillowy brown dust fall into a soft, fat triangle. He presses the button again. He runs his finger five-sided over the lip of the basket, leveling the excess grounds onto the countertop. The flotsam of being human. Rounding errors from crude counting machines doing impossible calculations. The stains on an apron and the soles pronated bald.
He grabs a tamper and feels the bulb cradle in the meat of his palm, his thumb and middle joint instinctively finding familiar curves. He presses down through his shoulder into the coffee bed. He gives the side of the portafilter a little tap with the tamper, and he can’t hold back a stupid, knowing exhale of a laugh. He tamps again and twists the portafilter back into the espresso machine. He places a cup under the grouphead and he presses a different button. He squats down, his gaze ascending toward winding tigered lines of brown and ruddy orange as they tan and turn pale. He presses the button again.
He grabs the cup and a canister from under the bar. He walks over near the front of the table and sits cross-legged on the floor. He swirls the cup, watching as the wave of espresso chases its tail around the bowl. He rests the lip on the bridge of his nose and inhales deeply and closes his eyes, breathing in some secret truth vision could only obscure. He takes a sip, savoring it with the entirety of himself, bringing the vibrational frequency of his atoms into phase with it.
He throws back the rest of the drink in one slug and sets the cup beside him.
He unscrews the cannister and empties it phosphorescent onto himself, the air around him bending and flitting and dancing an oasis dance. He digs in his shirt pocket and hopes for nothing, what a miracle that would be, but only finds resolution. He feels the elastic tug of thin steel mechanism as the lid struggles to remain closed then swings open. He feels the ridges of an unforgiving wheel against his thumb, frictioned begrudgingly into motion. He feels the soft glow.
He lets slip the warmth from his hand into the hungry pool at his feet.
Zac Cadwalader is the managing editor at Sprudge Media Network and a staff writer based in Dallas. Read more Zac Cadwalader on Sprudge.
