There’s something exciting about being in a café after hours. I walked into an empty coffee shop and, for a moment, wondered if I was allowed to be there. That was until someone emerged from the back and asked, “Are you here for the latte art class?”
My coffee making expertise begins and ends with plain old oat lattes. No art, just a good, bitter sip of that caffeinated goodness. Then I came across the beginner latte art class at Libérta Coffee — a shop known for its house-roasted specialty coffee, Asian-inspired street food (the specialty is a traditional Korean egg patty toast) and a warm, warehouse-like atmosphere. With their latte art classes, Libérta is inviting customers behind the counter to learn from its creative staff.
My little brother works at a coffee shop and brags about being a coffee art expert. I could not give him the satisfaction of thinking he was better than me at something. (Who am I kidding? He is better than me at everything.) So, I guess I had to learn latte art.
Every Monday evening, this coffee shop invites people to an immersive experience of “creating ink out of milk foam,” as my instructor Sumi Kim — a competitor in the Canadian Latte Art Championship 2025 — describes the craft of making latte art.
Kim has been hosting these classes since April last year to deepen people’s appreciation for coffee. Libérta Coffee’s philosophy is “art as liberation” — turning coffee into a form of expression, not just routine — and the class was doing just that by turning a simple drink into a work of art.
At the beginning of the class, Kim guided me to a small station set with a tray, a mug and a pitcher, where the rest of the class, two other participants, joined me. Once everyone had settled, she explained what the next two hours would look like. We’d start by heading behind the counter to “perfect” (to the best of our abilities) our foaming and steaming skills for the first 30 minutes, then move straight into the art portion of the class.
She seemed to have a lot of faith in us because when she showed us the designs we were going to work on — let me emphasize the class description said, “learn the basics of steaming, pouring, and creating simple latte art designs like hearts and tulips” — one of them was a swan. I didn’t know how in the world I was supposed to make a swan, but I guess we were going to find out.
If you are not of a serene mind, beware: this class might test you. There was a point, between steaming the milk and creating any kind of drawing, when Kim came up to me and said, “You are hating this, aren’t you?” I wanted to love it. I wanted to leave the class knowing I could make coffee perfect in both taste and presentation. I wanted to make better coffee than my brother.
If you only saw my first few attempts at a heart, you would understand my frustration.
Mind you, it was a class of three people — usually limited to seven spots – which is perfect for a personalized experience, but terrible if you don’t want your every move analyzed. And seeing the other participants manage to keep a somewhat clean station and be consistently praised for their progress was not exactly great for my self-esteem.
All I was getting was, “Can I show you?” after I thought I was improving.
And just as I was about to lose hope, Kim came up with the clever idea to use oat milk. I was pleasantly surprised to have a chance to practise on an ingredient I was actually familiar with. She had mentioned that oat milk was a bit harder for latte art (whole milk tends to be the go-to), but we both knew I had nothing to lose at that point.
I followed the instructions she had nicely laid out for us at the beginning of the class: releasing trapped water in the steam wand, cleaning it with a cloth, and setting it to the right angle to start creating the perfect velvety foam. It was the first time in the entire hour and a half I had been there that Kim looked proud of me. I barely needed direction.
Foam was done. Now, the art.
She handed me an already-prepared mug with espresso in it. I started pouring and positioning the mug at the right angle. Maybe I dissociated for a second but the next thing I knew: I had created a perfect tulip. How? I have no clue. All that mattered was that I made a perfect tulip.
“Mariana, that was perfect! Do you want to try it again?” she asked enthusiastically.
“Um no.” Was she crazy? I was going to leave that class on a high note. I did not expect to feel that level of confidence at all during the beginning of the class. It was intoxicating. That was, until I heard the next words come out of her mouth, “YES, look at your swan!” As you can probably guess, she wasn’t talking to me.
Verdict: Latte art can be fun with the right attitude. Did I learn something? Absolutely. Am I good at it? Absolutely not. But we cannot all be good at everything. Well, I guess my brother can.
Try some latte art. But don’t come to master the craft. Come to learn that even an imperfect thing is worth drinking. (Because Libérta’s coffee is worth it.)
Libérta Coffee
Hazeldean | 6547 99 St NW, Edmonton | libertacoffeelab.com
