The day was already cooler for a Portland summer- way cooler than the oppressive heat wave we were promised for later in the week- and as the sun goes down behind the buildings and hills of the Willamette Valley, it’s starting to just get slightly chilly.
Perfect weather for eating outside and getting a cold beer or two- as long as you don’t mind your face feeling a bit warm.
Good morning, friends and neighbors!
In the space of a year and change, I have trained ten people in some way at my bakery. Some just to pick up a couple tasks left hanging while I’m gone, others to be assistants and stand-ins so that I can take a day off now and again. They were professionals, students, coworkers, wanna-be lifers. A few were just honestly curious- like the dishwashers that wanted to learn to pipe pate au choux, or the barista with some time to kill who wanted to try a couple recipes for themselves.
A bunch stuck around for a while- some got let go. Every one of them learned something though- and I learned that I’m really good at being a big brother.
I hadn’t seen the windows of the bar papered up since before they opened. The vinyl logos and graphics had been up back then, but little else indicating that The Nerd Out would be a bar and not a comic book or collectibles shop. Standing outside now, the giant neon logo had since been joined by menus, flyers for events, comic-book inspired graphics for the typical restaurant notices (“Kids welcome everywhere but the bar,” “we welcome everyone,” etc.) and a host of stickers on the door. Delivery services, local clubs, reviewers that wrote about them… and one with a black top hat on it.
I gently knocked on the door. The owner, Mitch, greeted me and ushered me into the Nerd Out for the last time.
Good evening, friends and neighbors.
The weather this weekend could have been better- cloudy, muggy, windy, rainy. No good for going out and doing much, which made it picture perfect for my days off.
See, lately, I’ve been on a big kick of not trying to do something every fucking minute. With the parade of nightmares, hatred, anger, righteous rage, and natural disasters happening outside my little corner- as often as I poke my head out to try and do some good, I want to spend some time remembering what still IS good. The “eternal verities” of a culinary life.
Everyone wants to “return to normal”- the pandemic to go away, hurricane season to pass, and the protesters to shut up and go home (after November 2016, I’ve learned that the people screaming and begging for “peace” tend to actually mean “peace and quiet.”)
Here’s the problem, though- that “normal” wasn’t working as well as you think it was. It won’t come back. It can’t, and if we’re being honest, it probably shouldn’t.
Good evening, friends and neighbors.
I am going to be 34 in July. I have been baking for about nine years after being a Nurse’s Aide, an EMT, and various positions at a Boy Scout summer camp (Health Officer, Trading Post Clerk, and counselor for seven merit badges.)
I also used to be very overweight. I lost 110 lbs about 6 years ago, and I have more or less maintained it (I gained back 15 over the last year. Depression is a hell of a drug.)
The folks I work with are about my age. This post is about us- the folks that make the pastries you love, and what this industry does to you. If you’re a student, take this as a warning. Start an exercise regimen now, invest in some good shoes, and eat your veggies.
The Black Hat Baker 