My learning curve is growing quickly since I have started Roasting to Order this month. I have already had some repeat customers, so that is a good sign. I've roasted Costa Rican La Minita Tarrazu, Ethiopian Harrar, and Ethiopian Sidamo.
The La Minita was probably the most finicky of the bunch for me, as it seemed to have more of a narrow window to hit just the right 'sweet spot'. The Sidamo was very popular, as I sold out of my available stock on my 3rd day of taking orders. The aromatics on the Sidamo are incredible. Sort of a plum/raisin coffee with just a hint of black pepper in the finish. For me the deeper plum--maybe fig(?) notes intensify as it cools. Whatever the hell it is... good cup.
I was sick the previous week so I hadn't had a chance to cup the Harrar. I just crossed my fingers and trusted I would roast it just right for the three customers that had already ordered it. I roasted enough to save a small batch for myself and yesterday, I finally had a chance to cup everything. WOW! Blueberry up the wazoo! Blueberry aromatics, blueberry in the cup, and a nice little chocolate tone as it cools. Many times I have to search for some of the flavors that should be present. Most of this is just a lack of experience as a cupper... not being able to put a particular name to a particular flavor every time--but that's coming along ok so far.
But with this Harrar, there was no guesswork. Wonderful.
I am roasting 2 more pounds of this wonderful coffee tomorrow for some new customers.
I rock! :)
Friday, March 31, 2006
Friday, March 03, 2006
Training is Essential
Whether you have a "top tier" espresso machine for $7K upwards, or you have a lower-priced, lower quality machine, all things being equal, training your barista is perhaps the most important, and most neglected link in the espresso production chain.
Let's assume you are using fresh, properly roasted espresso beans and a good grinder. I know that many establishments can't even manage to do that---but if that's you--STOP! (fresh beans, fresh ground....please).
Training needs to begin with the owner. Either the owner needs to be passionate about his product, and seek professional training OR the owner can hire a professional to come and train their staff. The problem I most often see is that the only training the owner/manager receives is from the salesman/tech they purchased the machine from. They are told, "You just grind it like so, put it in this portafilter here, and smash it with this deal on the side of the grinder..." Really!! This is just like buying a Viking range from your high-end appliance store, and after being told how to adjust the flame, etc---- you are now a master chef! Cool how that works, huh.
Espresso preparation is a culinary art. Those who don't treat it as such produce mediocre espresso on their best day.
'Perfect practice makes perfect' I always say. So before you attempt to call yourself a barista, or call your employees barista--damn well make sure they are trained properly and your espresso will go from being a tone deaf kazoo player to a symphony orchestra.
Let's assume you are using fresh, properly roasted espresso beans and a good grinder. I know that many establishments can't even manage to do that---but if that's you--STOP! (fresh beans, fresh ground....please).
Training needs to begin with the owner. Either the owner needs to be passionate about his product, and seek professional training OR the owner can hire a professional to come and train their staff. The problem I most often see is that the only training the owner/manager receives is from the salesman/tech they purchased the machine from. They are told, "You just grind it like so, put it in this portafilter here, and smash it with this deal on the side of the grinder..." Really!! This is just like buying a Viking range from your high-end appliance store, and after being told how to adjust the flame, etc---- you are now a master chef! Cool how that works, huh.
Espresso preparation is a culinary art. Those who don't treat it as such produce mediocre espresso on their best day.
'Perfect practice makes perfect' I always say. So before you attempt to call yourself a barista, or call your employees barista--damn well make sure they are trained properly and your espresso will go from being a tone deaf kazoo player to a symphony orchestra.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Returning To Training
I'm getting ready to return to formal training. Training is Aikido is often difficult. This is not because of the hard work, that's something to expect and embrace, but it's because so many of the schools teach a flowery, non-effective form of Aikido.
A small rant: O'Sensei created his art as a martial art. The majority of his art is born of Daito-Ryu Aikijitsu, which was born of very effective Samurai battlefield arts. If you read what many of later students learned is that while he continued to do Daito-Ryu, he taught Aikido. A former Sensei of mine had this story passed on from his Sensei. The reason for this is that after war time in Japan, the Japanese were not too keen on people teaching martial combat.
Things had to appear to be more flowing. So when the local military poked their head inside the school to see what training was going on.... well, they were dancing. Smooth as silk.
But the truth of what was going on was lost on many students. Those that got it stand out and teach excellent waza. Those that don't get it, miss the effectiveness built into the martial art.
So, in a nutshell... much Aikido is poor because the instructors teach it that way.
As has been said many times, "Aikido works. Maybe YOUR Aikido doesn't".
A small rant: O'Sensei created his art as a martial art. The majority of his art is born of Daito-Ryu Aikijitsu, which was born of very effective Samurai battlefield arts. If you read what many of later students learned is that while he continued to do Daito-Ryu, he taught Aikido. A former Sensei of mine had this story passed on from his Sensei. The reason for this is that after war time in Japan, the Japanese were not too keen on people teaching martial combat.
Things had to appear to be more flowing. So when the local military poked their head inside the school to see what training was going on.... well, they were dancing. Smooth as silk.
But the truth of what was going on was lost on many students. Those that got it stand out and teach excellent waza. Those that don't get it, miss the effectiveness built into the martial art.
So, in a nutshell... much Aikido is poor because the instructors teach it that way.
As has been said many times, "Aikido works. Maybe YOUR Aikido doesn't".
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Late 90's and The Millenium (falcon)
I continued practicing kata and sparring occasionally, but school and work didn't allow for dojo time. I did stay connected to the arts by writing 20+ articles on various martial arts, techniques, and martial awareness for a (now defunct) fitness website.
During this time I began my Aikido training under Sensei Chris Whitehead.
Whitehead Sensei was one of my favorite teachers to date. There were only three or four students at a time in his class. After my sempai moved, I became sempai and took the position very seriously. I arrived early, set up the mats, led all the stretching and began basic drills. As I progressed, Whitehead Sensei would ask me to explain why we did X technique, why we did X stretching or warm up. If I could not answer, I was not allowed to teach it. This gave me a greater appreciation and understanding for Aikido, as well as the wisdom behind that style of teaching.
Because of his small classes, Whitehead Sensei encouraged us to attend any and all Aikido seminars in the area. I attended several AAA and Aikikai seminars over the next year or so. I had the honor of working with Toyoda Sensei, and with sharing sake and sashimi with him on his birthday.
The most important thing I learned from Whitehead Sensei was how to take off my shoes properly. Just as Coach Wooden taught his players the importance of putting on their socks, I learned the wisdom of removing my shoes. How one removes their shoes relates directly to how they will ultimately perform in real life Aikido. A student should untie their shoes, rather than pull them off. A student should tuck their laces inside their shoes and place their shoes neatly together against the wall, or in their locker, etc. This simple task involves discipline and attention to seemingly minor details, but if one cannot manage to take off their shoes properly, they will only manage to be good at Aikido.
Greatness lies in the details.
During this time I began my Aikido training under Sensei Chris Whitehead.
Whitehead Sensei was one of my favorite teachers to date. There were only three or four students at a time in his class. After my sempai moved, I became sempai and took the position very seriously. I arrived early, set up the mats, led all the stretching and began basic drills. As I progressed, Whitehead Sensei would ask me to explain why we did X technique, why we did X stretching or warm up. If I could not answer, I was not allowed to teach it. This gave me a greater appreciation and understanding for Aikido, as well as the wisdom behind that style of teaching.
Because of his small classes, Whitehead Sensei encouraged us to attend any and all Aikido seminars in the area. I attended several AAA and Aikikai seminars over the next year or so. I had the honor of working with Toyoda Sensei, and with sharing sake and sashimi with him on his birthday.
The most important thing I learned from Whitehead Sensei was how to take off my shoes properly. Just as Coach Wooden taught his players the importance of putting on their socks, I learned the wisdom of removing my shoes. How one removes their shoes relates directly to how they will ultimately perform in real life Aikido. A student should untie their shoes, rather than pull them off. A student should tuck their laces inside their shoes and place their shoes neatly together against the wall, or in their locker, etc. This simple task involves discipline and attention to seemingly minor details, but if one cannot manage to take off their shoes properly, they will only manage to be good at Aikido.
Greatness lies in the details.
early to mid 90's
A few years after high school I returned to Salt Lake City and began formal training in Wado Ryu under Sensei John McNeill.
Sensei McNeill was/is a direct student of Shihan Toshio Osaka, one of the most highly respected teachers in the Japanese arts.
I studied very hard under Sensei McNeill, and eventually was able to lead his classes through warm-ups and basics (despite still being a peon). Sensei McNeill taught control, discipline, attention to detail, and always, always stressed proper stances and good basics. He was a phenomenal teacher.
On the nights I was not training with Sensei McNeill, I trained under Sensei Doug Jepperson. Sensei Jepperson was an intense and knowledgeable instructor. It was years after training with Sensei Jepperson that I began to understand everything he taught. He understood fighting distance, timing, and the psychology of fighting very well. My favorite saying of his was, "My fighting distance is about nine feet; I'd suggest backing up a bit." Uh, yea...
After a couple of years, I needed to improve my overall skills, so I began studying directly under Toshio Osaka and his hard-core students. I learned how NOT to get hit (cause when they're trying, getting hit does hurt), I learned about angles of attack and defense. I learned to when to keep my damn heels on the ground and when to be on my toes. I continued to learn the importance of basics, and too many things to mention. But still... I was just a beginner.
I made it to class 3-4 times a week for months, and months... until life reared its ugly head and my work schedule forced an abrupt halt to my training.
Sensei McNeill was/is a direct student of Shihan Toshio Osaka, one of the most highly respected teachers in the Japanese arts.
I studied very hard under Sensei McNeill, and eventually was able to lead his classes through warm-ups and basics (despite still being a peon). Sensei McNeill taught control, discipline, attention to detail, and always, always stressed proper stances and good basics. He was a phenomenal teacher.
On the nights I was not training with Sensei McNeill, I trained under Sensei Doug Jepperson. Sensei Jepperson was an intense and knowledgeable instructor. It was years after training with Sensei Jepperson that I began to understand everything he taught. He understood fighting distance, timing, and the psychology of fighting very well. My favorite saying of his was, "My fighting distance is about nine feet; I'd suggest backing up a bit." Uh, yea...
After a couple of years, I needed to improve my overall skills, so I began studying directly under Toshio Osaka and his hard-core students. I learned how NOT to get hit (cause when they're trying, getting hit does hurt), I learned about angles of attack and defense. I learned to when to keep my damn heels on the ground and when to be on my toes. I continued to learn the importance of basics, and too many things to mention. But still... I was just a beginner.
I made it to class 3-4 times a week for months, and months... until life reared its ugly head and my work schedule forced an abrupt halt to my training.
The late 80's
I continued my martial journey in Idaho under Sifu Peter Scott. I studied Chinese 5 animals Kempo under Mr. Scott.
He also taught Shotokan. While I absorbed a lot in a short time at his school, sadly increased lease rates and job oppotunities elsewhere forced him to close his doors--after 3 months. (ugh!)
In my late junior and senior years in high school I met a very strange Japanese boy named Kazuhiko Ishii. He was a nidan (2nd degree black) in Aikido. I watched him execute a perfect nikkyo on the poor boy who tried to play "keep away" with the exchange student's caluculus book (hey, he IS Japanese). This planted a seed.
Hiro (as Kazuhiko was to his friends) became one of my best friends in high school. While we never trained together, the seed was nonetheless planted.
Scattered trips to Salt Lake helped my to begin my informal training in Wado ryu, outdoors on the front lawn of a local middle school.
He also taught Shotokan. While I absorbed a lot in a short time at his school, sadly increased lease rates and job oppotunities elsewhere forced him to close his doors--after 3 months. (ugh!)
In my late junior and senior years in high school I met a very strange Japanese boy named Kazuhiko Ishii. He was a nidan (2nd degree black) in Aikido. I watched him execute a perfect nikkyo on the poor boy who tried to play "keep away" with the exchange student's caluculus book (hey, he IS Japanese). This planted a seed.
Hiro (as Kazuhiko was to his friends) became one of my best friends in high school. While we never trained together, the seed was nonetheless planted.
Scattered trips to Salt Lake helped my to begin my informal training in Wado ryu, outdoors on the front lawn of a local middle school.
Monday, November 07, 2005
A brief history...My martial Journey
My martial arts journey began in the mid 1980's.
I studied for a too brief six months under Mickey Fisher in Salt Lake City at the Utah Black Belt Acadamy. His Shintoshi style is regarded by many to be the first purely American martial art. This is a point that is debated by EPAK kenpo stylists. As Parker's American Kenpo is rooted in Kara-Ho Kenpo and Fisher's Shintoshi borrows much from Tang Soo Do and other arts,
I think while both offer a new perspective, it is hard to define which had a fresher, more unique approach to the arts.
I learned the importance of conditing while studying under Mickey. Students who were approaching black belt level had to be able to run a five minute mile before being able to test. If skills are equal, the better conditioned martial artist will prevail. Mickey always stressed a positive, but fiesty attitude. Moving out of state ended my studies there.
...
I studied for a too brief six months under Mickey Fisher in Salt Lake City at the Utah Black Belt Acadamy. His Shintoshi style is regarded by many to be the first purely American martial art. This is a point that is debated by EPAK kenpo stylists. As Parker's American Kenpo is rooted in Kara-Ho Kenpo and Fisher's Shintoshi borrows much from Tang Soo Do and other arts,
I think while both offer a new perspective, it is hard to define which had a fresher, more unique approach to the arts.
I learned the importance of conditing while studying under Mickey. Students who were approaching black belt level had to be able to run a five minute mile before being able to test. If skills are equal, the better conditioned martial artist will prevail. Mickey always stressed a positive, but fiesty attitude. Moving out of state ended my studies there.
...
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