Finding Your Culinary Voice

Food is a form of communication. If you learn the history of cuisine, a plate can tell you its origin story, how its cooking methods were devised and why. Fried rice can tell you about the need to feed a lot of hungry field workers quickly and making their bland starchy staple taste good. Corned Beef and Cabbage will remind you of the poverty of new Irish and Jewish immigrants, crammed cheek-by-jowl in the slums of American cities, sharing what they had and knew to get by.

Food is communication. It’s a history lesson. It’s storytelling.

So how, exactly, does one become a good storyteller with food? The answer takes a bit more effort than “learn to cook”- as if that wasn’t enough.

Animated GIF of Jake from Adventure Time serenely frying bacon pancakes
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5 Tips For Teaching Kitchen Skills

We’ve been hiring lately in the bakery, and getting skilled workers is surprisingly difficult- but that’s not exactly what we’re looking for. There is a not-so-surprising need for unskilled workers in search of trainingbut the ability to train is rare.

We just hired a brand new “baking assistant” the other day- she has worked front of house for years, but had zero experience professionally cooking. That was fine though- we weren’t looking for another baker per se. We were looking for someone who could handle small tasks competently and was eager enough to learn that we could rely on them being done right.

Yesterday, our morning baker was teaching her to pipe choquettes with pate au choux. Piping itself is a skill set that takes training, and pate au choux can be a frustrating substance to work with- it crusts up quickly, is gloppy when warm, and needs to be piped neatly to make things like eclair or paris brest shells. The morning baker was trying to explain her method of piping, but the assistant’s hands kept shaking- making what should have been smooth little mounds of paste come out like yellow poop emojis. The owner of the bakery stepped in and tried to advise her, gently taking the bag from her hands and demonstrating a row. The assistant managed for a minute, but then got frustrated again. That’s when I stepped in:

“Ok, are you right or left handed? Good, so am I. It looks like you’re gripping the bag too high- don’t fill it so much and put your right hand lower. That’ll make you steadier. Don’t be afraid to mess up- give the bag a firm squeeze each time, stop, and flick your wrist to cut off the flow.”

Two rows later, she looked at me and said “Ok, who are you, and how did you teach me this?!”

An AZ Quote from Jacques Pepin saying "You have no choice as a professional chef: you have to repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat until it becomes part of yourself. I certainly don't cook the same way I did 40 years ago, but the technique remains. And that's what the student needs to learn: technique."
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How To Blackball Yourself in the Culinary Industry

He was brand new. We had trained him for a week- he had a ways to go, but he took his tasks on, did the work asked, and didn’t make a fuss. He asked questions about the nuts and bolts of recipes, he asked about when we took breaks, and how he should clock in and out for them.

“Ten years in the business,” he said. “Started as a dishwasher at 16, worked up to prep, then line cook.” Covid took him out of the kitchen he’d called home and the bakery had work that needed doing. He wasn’t picky- he just needed to work.

Wednesday night, he went to party. Thursday morning, he never clocked in- a hangover made staying home more appealing than showing up for his shift.

A no call/no show. He can stay home as long as he likes now.

Close up of a burning match
Don’t go burning bridges kids…
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Big Brother- Mentoring in the Kitchen

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.

Animated GIF of Uncle Iroh from “Avatar: The Last Airbender” sitting in front of a fire drinking tea.
Somewhere along the way, I was called the “Uncle Iroh” of the bakery.
Not gonna lie, that’s some high praise.
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Layers of Wisdom

I turned 34 yesterday. 33 was a busy year for me, and I’m doing my best to be okay with that.

I really started trying to deal with issues that’d been stalking me most of my life, and finally named my demons- Depression and Anxiety.

Lately, my body has been complaining about the tolls I exact from it. Working long, busy hours, and relying on exercise as a stress reliever without truly resting is a lot for anyone to ask of the meat robot they’re piloting. Mine has been more than patient, but lately my back and shoulders have been asking me to lay off for a while.

I published my first book at age 32. I have three other manuscripts in progress, and frankly haven’t advanced as much on them in a year as I might have- much less advertised or placed faith in the book I finished that it deserves.

Yes, the world is in the middle of a fucking pandemic that my government is not managing very well. The omnipresent background anxiety has been playing havoc with my own, and what I will tactfully refer to as the recent “appropriate social unrest” makes the act of writing a fraught experience- but pretending it isn’t happening or that it somehow isn’t appropriate would be against my sense of self.

So, on the first full day into my 34th year of life, coinciding with the 244th “birthday” of my country in crisis, I chose one of the most contemplative activities I know.


I made pie.

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