This is why I created The Home Barista Show

Somewhere along the way, we lost the plot.

Coffee used to be simple. It was hot. It was comforting. It tasted like home. It was what you drank with your grandfather at breakfast, what your mother made on the stove before sunrise, what you shared with a friend when you needed to talk. It was intuitive, human, and familiar.

But somewhere between the rise of specialty coffee and the rise of the algorithm, it became something else. Something colder. Something coded. Something you needed a dictionary, a course, and a budget to understand. And that change hasn’t helped anyone – not the industry, not the baristas, and certainly not the person the entire industry depends on to survive: the average consumer.

The one person we’ve forgotten.

When did coffee get so complicated?

In the beginning, specialty coffee stood for quality. It stood for fairness. It stood for flavor. It was a rebellion against bad beans, bad ethics, and bad habits. It was for people who wanted to know where their coffee came from, who grew it, how it was processed, how it was roasted. That hunger for transparency and truth was radical. It was needed.

But like every good idea, it spiraled.

Today, we don’t just talk about origin – we talk about varietals, fermentation methods, roast curves, extraction ratios, TDS, refractometers, water recipes, burr alignment, and beans that cost more per gram than gold. The language has become more technical. The gear has become more expensive. And the bar for entry has never been higher.

Walk into a café and try ordering a simple cup of black coffee. Chances are, you’ll be asked: What origin? What brew method? What grind size? What water temp? Do you want that with or without a bypass? The person behind the bar might be passionate, even kind, but the whole interaction can feel less like a conversation and more like an exam.

And most people just want to pass.

The culture of exclusion

Specialty coffee has become a subculture. A cool one, no doubt. But also a closed one.

The Instagram pages are immaculate. The baristas look like fashion models. The YouTube videos are slick. The gear is boutique. The competitions are intense. And if you’re not already part of it, it can feel like you’re not allowed in.

We have built a culture that speaks mostly to itself.

We reward precision over participation. We obsess over gear instead of connection. And we’ve made brewing better coffee at home feel like an intimidating and expensive pursuit, instead of the joyful and accessible experience it should be.

For the people already inside the circle, that’s fine. But for everyone else – the ones we need to grow the industry – it’s a problem.

Because here’s the hard truth: we are alienating the very people we claim to serve.

What happened to joy?

There’s a kind of magic in making coffee for yourself. The sound of the grinder. The scent of the bloom. The quiet pause before the first sip. It’s not about perfection. It’s about presence.

But when the rules are too many, the expectations too high, and the tools too out of reach, that magic gets lost. What was supposed to be fun becomes fraught. What was supposed to be freedom becomes a formula.

We’ve replaced instinct with metrics. We’ve replaced curiosity with correctness.

And in doing so, we’ve turned something deeply personal into something clinical.

The paradox of progress

This is the paradox of specialty coffee today. As the knowledge has grown, the access has shrunk. As the quality has improved, the audience has narrowed. As we’ve chased excellence, we’ve forgotten inclusion.

We celebrate the fact that people are drinking better coffee, but we ignore how few people are part of that conversation. We point to the growth in competitions, but fail to mention how niche those events really are. We build brands around the idea of coffee as art – but art only works if people can feel it.

And the average person – the one who buys coffee from the supermarket, brews it in a French press, and adds milk without shame – is more excluded than ever.

They are not the enemy. They are not “uneducated.” They are not holding us back.

They are the reason we exist.

The future depends on the average home brewer

If specialty coffee is going to grow, it needs to stop talking to itself.

It needs to welcome the everyday drinker who is curious but cautious. It needs to design for the home brewer who loves the ritual but doesn’t care about the science. It needs to make space for the person who just wants their coffee to taste a little better than yesterday – not perfect, just better.

These are the people who will decide what the next 20 years of coffee look like. Not the champions. Not the influencers. Not the forums. The everyday person who buys the bag, boils the water, and brews it their way.

This isn’t about dumbing anything down. It’s about opening it up.

It’s time for a reset

Specialty coffee doesn’t need to be abandoned. It needs to be reclaimed.

We need to stop performing and start participating. We need to stop gatekeeping and start guiding. We need to stop fetishizing the complicated and start celebrating the simple.

We need to make room again for what brought us here in the first place: the love of a good cup of coffee.

And that means building spaces where everyone feels welcome. Where beginners aren’t judged. Where questions aren’t shamed. Where it’s okay to not know what a refractometer is. Where it’s okay to say, “I just like how this one tastes.”

That’s why we created The Home Barista Show

The Home Barista Show is a half-day event in Dubai. But it’s more than an event. It’s a call to arms.

It’s a reminder that coffee belongs to all of us – not just to the ones with the tools, the time, and the training. It’s a space built for home brewers, beginners, the curious, the intimidated, and yes, even the experts who are ready for something more honest.

You’ll taste great coffee. You’ll meet national champions who actually want to teach, not preach. You’ll see gear, but you won’t be pressured to buy any of it. You’ll hear real stories from real people. You’ll be able to ask questions. And you might just leave with a new sense of confidence.

And maybe a giveaway or two.

Pick up your tickets here

This isn’t a protest. It’s a platform

I’m not against excellence. I’m against exclusion. I’m not trying to tear anything down. I’m trying to build something better. Something more inclusive. More welcoming. More human.

This is coffee, after all. Not crypto. Not couture. Not code.

It is a drink. One we’ve been making for hundreds of years. One that anyone with hot water and a little curiosity can enjoy.

It’s time we started treating it that way again.

If you’ve ever felt like specialty coffee wasn’t for you, I made this for you. If you’ve ever felt too shy to ask a question, I made this for you. If you’ve ever loved coffee but hated the culture around it, I made this for you.

Come to The Home Barista Show

Let’s take coffee back. Together.