Good afternoon, friends and neighbors!
My regular blog posts will resume tomorrow, because for right now I have something BIG to announce:
Here’s the deal…
Good morning, friends and neighbors.
Some time back, I asked a group of professionals what movies about kitchen life got it “right,” and which ones really REALLY got it wrong.
“Waiting” and “No Reservations” were among the “don’t mention that movie in my presence” list, but there was one movie that everyone- and I mean everyone- claimed hit the nail on the head: Jon Favreau’s 2014 father/son megahit, Chef.
Whether it was the sweet story of a busy chef trying to keep a relationship with his son, that same chef bucking a demanding owner and going into business for himself, or just the gobs and GOBS of on-location foodporn, Chef struck a chord with every pro I met who’d seen it.
When my mother saw the movie for the first time, she said, “See Matt? That looks fun, and not that hard! You could do that!”
Thanks for the vote of confidence Mom, but as cool as it looks- running a food truck is NOT exactly the “easy mode” of the food world.
Where: 4601 SE Hawthorne Blvd., Portland OR, 97215
When you notice a small corner bar on a normally bustling strip of the city open for a few weeks, but then closed on Friday nights and Saturdays, one of the first things you start to wonder is “…who’s idea was that place?”
The small, narrow corner space- sharing its block with Zach’s Hot Dog Shack, the locally-famous Por Que No?, and a nondescript Tibetan tchotchke shop- had for a short time been the “Hawthorne Public House.” I’d looked in a few times in passing, and that’s precisely what I did. I passed. A whistle-clean bar on the inside, with big TV screens… that was closed at 4pm every Friday.
Passing by, regardless of day or hour, the joint was always empty or closed, and nothing ever compelled me to walk in.
One day, the windows were papered, the sign was down, and another Portland bar vanished like a fart in a Jacuzzi.
A couple months later, my friend Pete caught up with me at the beer cart next to the cafe. He’s a writer for Willamette Weekly, and besides just casually talking to folks about where they like to go for the best ___, he’s one of my go-to sources for new places to try.
“Hey Matt, you like pork, right?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Ok, you need to go to this place. It’s like an old rocker, punk bar. You know where Por Que No is?”
“Oh, yeah that’s… oh wait, yeah! Someone finally did something with that space? I wondered what happened to it after the Public House went out.”
“… There was something there? Anyway, it’s called The Cavern. Go there sometime- one of the best places for meat in the city. Get the pork belly skewers, and spring for the mousse dip. It’s so raunchy and weird.”
If you want to be noticed, you’ve got to make a little noise- having a whiskey list and a knack for the carnivorous helps too.
“Hey ho, let’s go”
Good evening, friends and neighbors.
I get to work these days before dawn. As I walk in, the first order of business is checking the oven to make sure the settings are right.
Next, the days first load of croissants- waiting patiently in the proof box since the night before. They need to be in the oven in 30 minutes.
They aren’t ready. Small and sticky still. Crap… that’s not right.
A quick look at the control panel on the box confirms my fears. They’re gonna be late.
Right- time for Plan B. The cookies have time to go in.
Wait… that doesn’t look right. Why is the oven temperature tanking? Ugh… ok. Back on track, make up the time later.
The new wholesale management system is messed up. No one to call to check numbers for retail. Dammit… ok, just fudge the numbers. Wholesale is accounted for, I can bake more for the store later if needed.
The piping tip I need is missing. Use a similar one and change technique to compensate.
Not enough sheet pans- the other stores haven’t been sending them back. Rummage around and condense. There’s gotta be stuff to layer.
It’s cool. I’ll figure it out. It’s fine.
“Totally fine… I’ve got this. I’ve got this…”
“At least I’m learning some interesting tricks…”
Good afternoon, friends and neighbors.
I am a cook. More specifically, I am a baker- or pastry cook, as one of my previous job titles went.
I am also, by virtue of being born in the late 80s, a member of that currently-most-accursed of demographics… a millennial.
And things are getting real out here, folks.
“… Millennial!”
The Black Hat Baker 