In September, Krit saw an for a national roasting competition in Bangkok. He wanted to enter with Tam’s beans. Ploy thought it was , since the other were professionals. But Krit’s was impossible to refuse. For six weeks, he roasted , adjusting the time and temperature by tiny amounts. He kept notes and asked everyone in the café to taste the versions. Grandma could not tell the , but Ben preferred batch number seventeen. Tam drove down from the hills to give Krit . On the morning of the competition, Krit was pale. The hall was full of equipment, and the judges looked . Krit’s small roaster looked almost beside the big machines. But he worked , just as he did at home. When the judges tasted his coffee, one of them nodded . The results would be the next day. That night, Krit could not sleep because of . Whatever happened, he had already proved something to himself.