Let It Unfold: George Jinyang Peng’s Philosophy of Brewing with Restraint

Some brewers chase precision. Others chase perfection. But every now and then, you meet someone who’s chasing neither—someone who brews not to impress, but to connect. Not just with the cup, but with the quiet. With the land. With themselves.

HUDES | Worldwide Digital Magazine for Manual  Coffee Brewers

In this conversation with HUDES Magazine, 2025 World Brewers Cup champion, George Jinyang Peng from China share his story. It did not feel like an interview. It felt like slowing down. This is that kind of story. One where a single cup carries more than flavor. It carries intention. 

2025 WBrC CHAMPION - George Jinyang Peng

When you brew coffee alone, away from the stage and the crowd, what kind of silence are you looking for?

When I brew alone, I’m looking for a silence that allows me to listen—to the coffee, to myself, and to the place it comes from. It’s not just about quiet surroundings, but an inner stillness. Every time before I brew a coffee, I try to calm my thoughts, so I can truly connect with the terroir through each brew.

That peace helps me approach parameters with a clearer mind. I also focus on keeping my hand movements stable and intentional—because in brewing, your hands are not just tools, they’re extensions of your attention.

Many baristas talk about precision, but your brews seem to carry a certain softness—almost poetic. Do you believe in brewing with instinct as much as with technique?

I’m definitely someone who believes in instinct. But instinct, to me, is built from experience—it’s what your body remembers after thousands of brews. Still, instinct alone isn’t enough. Everything has to exist within a solid framework. So I think both are equally important.

Brewing coffee is about creating an experience, for yourself and for the person you’re serving. Precision brings consistency, but instinct brings soul. You need both.

How did growing up in China shape your relationship with flavors, rituals, or even patience in brewing?

Growing up in China shaped my palate and my approach to balance. China has such a wide variety of cuisines, spices, fruits—it’s a country deeply rooted in complex, layered flavors. That shaped my ability to notice details and appreciate harmony.

But it’s also the cultural mindset that influenced me. In classical Chinese philosophy, we emphasize yin and yang, harmony, and respect for time, and most importantly, my parents told me, don’t go beyond, and always watch out for “intensity” in everything. “Overwhelming” and try too hard is not good. These ideas taught me to be patient with extraction, to allow the coffee to unfold naturally instead of rushing it. That patience, I think, is part of what I carry into every cup.

During your performance in Jakarta, was there a specific moment when you felt completely present—not as a competitor, but as a person brewing for someone?

Yes—actually, this was the first time I experienced that so clearly. I’ve been competing for eight years. In the past, I always saw myself as a professional trained competitor first. I’d focus on strategy, on what other brewers were using. But this time, I made a very intentional choice.

I arrived early in Jakarta, brought all my own gear, and just spent time quietly brewing alone. I let go of comparison. I reminded myself: this isn’t about winning—it’s about brewing coffee for someone, honestly. So when I stepped on stage, I wasn’t trying to be better than anyone. I was just there, as myself, making coffee.

Talking to myself, and being myself, makes me relax and I honestly was thinking before I stepped onto stage at the final round, I feel very satisfied with me this time, as a barista brewing the coffee I truly love. I can take whatever result from the stage.

What’s something you’ve unlearned about coffee brewing over the years that made you better—not technically, but philosophically?

I had to unlearn the pressure to meet others’ expectations. At some point, I realized that the only way to do something meaningful is to follow your own inner compass. You can’t let outside voices drown out your own conviction.

That shift made me a better brewer—not because my technique changed, but because I started to brew from a more honest, grounded place. When you do your best within your own truth, that’s when real connection happens.

If someone unfamiliar with competition coffee asked you, “Why do you care so much about brewing one cup?” — how would you answer them?

Do you see brewing as more of a conversation, a meditation, or maybe a form of storytelling? Why?

If someone asked me that, I’d want to answer honestly: this one cup is the result of everything I’ve come to understand about coffee so far. It’s a way of honoring that journey.

It’s not exactly a meditation, or storytelling, or a conversation—it’s more like a moment of transmission. Through ten minutes, I’m trying to share the efforts of so many people: farmers, roasters, mentors. It’s about creating an experience that makes the person in front of me feel something real.

You likely worked with producers, roasters, and mentors along the way. How do you honor their presence in your daily brewing practice?

I try to brew in a way that doesn’t waste their effort. That’s the most honest way to honor them. Every roast curve, every brewing design—I adjust it to match the coffee’s condition, to bring out what they worked so hard to grow and develop.

My goal is to let the cup carry their voices forward, not just mine.

Lastly, if your brewing style had a feeling or mood, what would it be—and what kind of person do you imagine would enjoy that cup?

If I had to describe the feeling behind my brew, I’d say it’s brave, persistent, and thoughtful.

It’s a cup for someone who truly pays attention—someone who’s not just drinking coffee, but really listening to it.

I imagine this person is deeply curious about origin, about terroir, and about the quiet complexity that comes from nature itself. They enjoy exploring how flavor expresses mountains, variety, and process— the subtle, layered language of real coffee.

It’s for someone who finds magic in the realness of coffee—who believes that a well-grown, well-roasted, and honestly brewed coffee can tell a story of the journey. And to me, that’s the most moving kind of experience you can share. (Hudes Magazine)

All photo by George Jinyang Peng doc. for Hudes Magazine.