Some coffee competitions attract attention. Others quietly struggle to survive. Ibrik is one of them.
Compared with the Barista Championship or Brewers Cup, Cezve/Ibrik coffee rarely draws the same audience. The stage is smaller, the return is uncertain, and sometimes the competition doesn’t even happen at all. Preparing for it still requires months of practice, travel, and personal investment, yet the visibility is limited. For many baristas, it doesn’t feel like a smart choice. If you are chasing recognition, career growth, or exposure, there are easier paths to take. But sometimes, people choose the smaller stage. Not because it makes sense — but because something inside them tells them to.
Angel Kotsifakis (Left), 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝖤𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 (Center), Wael Hachem (Right), World Cezve/Ibrik Champion 2026
𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝖤𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 never planned to become a coffee competitor. She didn’t even plan to work in coffee. She came to the UAE from the Philippines, like many foreign workers, looking for an opportunity. Her first job in coffee wasn’t behind the bar — she was working as a cashier. From the counter, she watched baristas making drinks, trying to understand what they were doing. What caught her attention first wasn’t espresso or brewing techniques. It was latte art.
She remembers seeing the patterns forming on the surface of coffee and thinking it looked unreal. It didn’t feel like something she could do, but she couldn’t stop watching. Slowly, curiosity turned into interest, and interest turned into obsession. She began practicing whenever she could, repeating the same movements again and again, learning by observation and trial. Coffee became more than a job. It became something personal.
Her first competition came earlier than she was ready for. She signed up for a latte art competition without fully understanding what competing actually meant. When she arrived, she realized that everyone else had teams — coaches helping them refine their pours, people supporting them backstage, friends encouraging them before stepping onto the platform. She had none of that. It was just her, her pitcher, and her nervous hands.
“I didn’t know competitions needed a team. I thought you just go there and pour.”
Standing under the lights, the pressure built quickly. The stage felt bigger than she imagined, and the silence heavier than she expected. Halfway through, overwhelmed and unsure, she walked off. She ran away from the stage before finishing.
“I couldn’t finish. I left the competition in tears.”
It was one of the hardest moments in her coffee journey, she rarely talked about it. For a long time, she carried that memory quietly. But looking back, that experience didn’t end her path — it shaped it. It taught her something she didn’t understand at the time: coffee is never just about the individual. It is about people, support, and community.
Years passed. Jane stayed in coffee. The dream that stayed with her wasn’t about winning — it was about teaching. Even early on, she imagined herself helping others learn, sharing knowledge, and becoming someone who could guide new baristas the way she wished someone had guided her. Coffee slowly became the space where that dream could exist.
𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾-𝖢𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗌-𝖤𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾-coffee-journey
When Ibrik entered her life, it didn’t look like an obvious opportunity. The competition was small. The audience limited. The return unclear. But something about it resonated with her. The traditional brewing method, the storytelling, the connection to coffee’s roots — it felt different from the polished, high-energy competitions she had seen before.
Choosing Ibrik wasn’t a strategic decision. It was a personal one.
“I knew it wasn’t the most popular competition…but I felt connected to it. I wanted to understand it.”
This time, she wasn’t alone. Around her was a small team that believed in her long before the stage — Don Perello, Karen Gatmaitan, Kemal Risyad, Muhammad Windu Alifart, Frederick Ruben, Purna Gaudel, and Frederick Bejo, each taking a different role in her preparation. It wasn’t a large or sponsored team, but it was built on trust. Years earlier, she had walked onto a stage with nothing but courage. Now, she walked in carrying the quiet strength of the people standing behind her.
𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝖤𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾’s coffee community
𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝖤𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 and her coffee community
Years after running away from her first competition, Jane stepped onto another stage. It was quieter, smaller, and far less visible — but this time, she stayed. When her name was announced as the world champion of Ibrik, the moment carried more than a title. It was a quiet full circle. From standing alone and walking away, to standing with a team and finishing the journey.
For Jane, the return from that competition wasn’t measured in exposure or career opportunities. It was something harder to define. Coffee had given her direction, confidence, and a community. In return, she saw the value of representing a tradition that often goes unnoticed — a small stage that still matters.
“Winning wasn’t just for me. It was for this coffee, and for showing that traditional coffee can still be meaningful.”
In a world where attention often follows trends, some stories grow in quieter spaces. Ibrik may not offer the biggest audience, and choosing it may not make sense from a career perspective. But sometimes, the return is not about visibility. Sometimes, the return is growth, connection, and purpose.
Jane’s journey — from cashier to competitor, from running away to world champion — doesn’t follow a logical path. But when the dots connect, it begins to make sense. The smaller stage, the early failure, the team that came later, and the tradition she chose to represent all lead to the same place.
Sometimes the ROI isn’t what coffee gives back to you.
Sometimes, the ROI is what you give back to coffee.
