“[…]and I have filled him with the spirit of God, in wisdom, and in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship […]”

– Exodus 31:3

Despite all my writing about The Way of the Floured Hand, the happy moments in the bakeshop, and how fulfilling it is to work with my hands (I’m pretty sure I would self-mummify at a full-time desk job), the fact is this shit is WORK.

As much as I may like the work, and as good as I am at it, at a certain point in especially busy weeks I find myself saying “I wanted to be a pastry chef… and for my sins, they let me become one.” Whether it’s persnickety chefs, crowded kitchens, or cooks that regularly seem too dazed and bewildered to understand what “hustle” means and manage to be underfoot even while I’m standing still, this calling of mine is good at reminding me that I’m doing it for pay, and they’re gonna make me earn that pay.

The other night, on a final night off between two exceptionally busy weeks, I found an out-of-the-way two-top in Horse Brass and wanted to prepare myself. I’ve been in this job, the industry, AND therapy long enough to know how the coming week will test me and what my old habits will tell me to do about: simmer, stew, ruminate on grievance, and berate myself for being less than cheery and chill about it all. This is why “putting labels on it” is imporant. If you can name it, you can identify it, recognize the patterns, and plan for them.

Like many weeks before, this busy week was likely exhaust me, making me less able to diffuse proddings at my Anxiety and Depression. I know how I get when they are triggered, so I know how to armor and prepare myself to deal with them so no one else has to. We all have traumas and insecurities and damage and baggage, but dealing with it is ALWAYS our own responsibility. The world can’t-and shouldn’t- move out of the way of our bullshit.

I sat at the small two-top in the darkened pub and asked for a pint of a familiar Oktoberfest and a sandwich when the server got a chance to check in. Horse Brass’s food is decent, but pricy, and I really just wanted something to settle myself and meditate over. As the server whisked away to punch in my beer, I had a silly but soothing idea. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out my Big Journal. “Big” is relative- it’s the size of a small paperback, but that’s how I differentiate it from the tiny Moleskine notebook I keep in my pocket to jot down moments or ideas to write about later. Most things in the Moleskine are fodder for blog posts and writing, some won’t make the cut (for now.) The Big Journal is where I dump my brain and emotions and ideas in absence of social media. It’s where I can vent my spleen and use myself as a sounding board for “talking” through things.

I opened the journal to the next blank page and marked the date and setting in case I ever want to go back and read something and wonder what was influencing me then. “10/20, Horse Brass- emotional readiness for the week ahead.”

When you are in a state of grievance and rumination, you focus on everything that sucks and harp on it again and again and again. At the pie shop, my ways out of these spirals were:

• Grounding in Sensation– “This dough is so smooth. I can smell the onions cooking in the kitchen. I hear dicing in the other room” etc.
• Reframing– “I’m not trapped here. I’m doing this because I choose love, and always will.”
• Distraction– using a podcast or audiobook to put someone elses stories in my ears instead of mine.

In the last few years, I’ve learned that Judaism doesn’t really have a word for “gratitude” as we in the West understand it. Instead, there is a mitzvah (“commandment”) called “Hakarat HaTov”, “recognizing the good.” It’s the obligation to recognize and honor blessings both big and small as a way to steady ourselves and bring more holiness into the world.

I clicked my favorite pen, and rather than try to distract or reframe the difficulty I knew was coming, I decided to simply highlight the good things about this life I live and see how many moments in my work make me feel joyous and alive:

What are moments that remind me that I love what I do?

1. When a recipe bakes up perfectly and the entire kitchen can smell it.
   Because when you know, you know, and they know.
   
2. When I get to tell people exactly how something is made and where it comes from.
   I am a proud, unrepentant, and unabashed nerd.
   
3. When people try something I made and I can tell it just made their day better.
   I’m often the first person to see and greet staff that enter through the kitchen. When servers or office staff come in and I say “Morning, ___- want a cookie?” and I can see that it was exactly what they needed to get ready for the day, you can’t buy that kind of high from a dealer.
   
4. When people ask me for things and I can underpromise then overdeliver.
   
5. Making something that changes someones opinion of “what can work.”
   Sometimes, it’s fun to “flex” on others and remind them (and yourself) of who you are and what you are capable of.
   
6. Teaching others a skill and seeing pieces “click in to place” for them.
   “So THAT’S why bakers do that!” Watching others find the method in the madness is incredibly gratifying.
   
7. When what I make brings back memories for others.
   Again, no high like that on the planet.
   
8. Slow, methodical recipes that make me focus in, take my time, and pay attention to details.
   
9. Flowing through several recipes at once and losing myself in the action.
   The moments of wei wu wei– when there is no separation between the dancer and the dance.
   
10. When what I do truly feels like alchemy or sorcery and I can jsut take joy in the doing of it all.
    Again, I’m a huge nerd- and when I deconstruct what I’m doing into mad science and chemistry, it’s hard not to feel really damn awesome making something out of nothing.
    
11. Learning a new factoid, skill, or technique that makes other things I know click together in new ways.
    The “eureka” moments, or even just the “holy shit, THAT’S why that happens!” moments. Learning how muscle usage influences muscle cells which decides light vs. dark meat in proteins. Learning how the same acidic compound that makes apples turn brown and quince turn red also makes raw cocoa acidic, requiring vinegar in cake recipes made with Dutch Process cocoa. “Yeah science!”
    
12. Pulling an archaic recipe, method, or ingredient into the modern kitchen.
    “Kitchen Pepper” was an all-purpose seasoning mix used in colonial America for both sweet and savory dishes. The mixture of salt, black pepper, ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice (“Jamaican pepper”) and clove was perfect for custards, egg dishes, pies, and even roasted meat. We now have a quart of it in our bakeshop at any given time- it’s treated liked “Pumpkin Spice Plus.”
    

Around this time, my beer was gone, and I realized that I needed to get myself home so I could wind down and go to bed in time to begin the busy week I was dreading. I paid my tab and headed home, but with fresh memories of all the things I loved about what I did and determination to create them- or at least recognize them when they happen naturally- over the coming week. What I do is definitely work- I just needed to remind myself of the perks that come with it.

Stay Classy,