How hard can it be to pull an espresso shot?

SINGAPORE — Buying a coffee is not rocket science. You order and pay at the cashier, walk over to the far side of the counter, check your phone for messages, receive your espresso-based beverage from the barista, compliment him on his man bun and rush out the door.

What is rocket science is actually making that coffee. A barista might as well be an aerospace engineer: They spend all day in the command centre, banging and fiddling with the gears and knobs of large metal machines that make loud whooshing sounds, emit a lot of steam and cost an arm and a leg.

The best part is, no one really knows what they’re doing back there. At least, I didn’t — until I was invited to a basic barista course at A.R.C. Coffee. That was when I decided that comparatively speaking, rocket science is a kindergarten-level subject.

A.R.C, which stands for “Academy, Roastery, Cafe”, was set up with the aim of giving coffee lovers a “complete experience of coffee, from preparation all the way to enjoyment”, said general manager John Ryan Ting, my trainer for the day who also happens to be a three-time Singapore Barista champion.

“That’s why we are involved in coffee roasting, coffee-making and coffee appreciation,” he said.

A.R.C. offers classes including coffee cupping, brew fundamentals, latte art and, of course, the basic barista course.

The class started with an introduction to the grinder and espresso machines. The moment you stand up close to the espresso machine and take in its flashing buttons, steam valves and pressure gauge, you suddenly understand why men buy shiny sports cars with their CPF money. La Marzocco, a brand of espresso machine, must be Italian for “sexy”.

But taming the metal beast requires bravado, which a first-timer can only try valiantly to fake. In fact, said Ting, even the sound of the milk being steamed can tell you whether the barista is turning out good lattes or not — if the steam wand is too close to the side of the beaker, it will sound more like an off-key screech than a Wagnerian soprano, which is what you want for the right texture.

Once you’ve gotten over your fear of the unfamiliar, the actual steps are pretty straightforward.

Step One: Take the portafilter — which is that cool little metal dish attached to a handle — and push it into the grinder to activate the grinding of the beans into the dish. Resist the urge to snort the fresh, fragrant powder directly into your system.

Step Two: Pick up the tamp (that thing that looks like a rubber stamp but is actually a metal disc) and extend your arm with your elbow at 90 degrees. Twist your body like you’re swimming freestyle, lock your wrist and exert a moderate amount of pressure onto the ground coffee to pack it in. Remove the tamp with a gentle twist and flourish.

Step Three: Sweep excess particles off the rim with your fingers in a swift and deliberately careless manner.

Step Four: In one smooth action, raise the portafilter into its groove in the machine, turn the handle towards you to lock it, and push the button for the water to run through it.

Step Five: Deftly grab espresso cups from the top of the machine, attempting to sling them along the way, and chuck them below just in time for the coffee to jet into them. Do not, under any circumstances, position the cups before you run the water. This is not Nespresso, you noob.

Step Six: Watch as the trainer sips your first shot, tries valiantly to remain blase in spite of the fact that his face has changed colour, pats your shoulder kindly and looks at you with pity as he would at a hopeless but indulged child. Taste it for yourself, mutter an apology to all your ancestors and pledge to take up rocket science instead.

After all, that can’t be harder than making drinkable coffee.

This thought came with the realisation that all the settings on the grinder and the machine, such as the water pressure and the timings, had already been carefully calibrated through trial and error prior to my playing at what was evidently the easy part.

And we hadn’t even gotten started on the milk. You know those frondy leaves, feathery swans and adorable hearts that dissipate with the first sip of your latte? Well, they start to look like Louvre exhibits when you try your hand at latte art and produce something that’s closer to a stain on a bathroom wall.

By now, I wanted to fall upon the neck of every barista I saw and weep tears of admiration into their leather-strapped aprons.

Whether long and black or small and white, they were the Shaolin monks of the temple of caffeine, and I, an unworthy benefactor of their labours.

Still, hope springs eternal in the human breast. One day, when I’m middle-aged and have a receding hairline, I’ll buy one of those La Marzoccos with my CPF money. May Seah

For information on A.R.C’s coffee classes, visit http://www.arccoffee.sg/academy.html