One Of Those Days

Good afternoon, friends and neighbors!

It had been a grueling day. The whole kitchen seemed to be operating on Murphy’s Law.
A bad batch of eggs had been caught too late, leading to the failure of at least three batters and every single piece of brioche in the bakery. Fortunately, none had sold and there was no danger of anyone getting sick- even so, it was a lot of product to be thrown out.
Everyone’s production list doubled- the time to get it done did not.

If there was a time for “Crazy Train” to start playing, that was it.

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Keeping It Tight- The Need For Mise En Place

Good evening, friends and neighbors.

Bakers live at least 24 hours in the future. We get a reputation for being sticklers and detail-oriented, because we are somewhat literally programming ourselves for the next few days. We predict eventualities, contingencies, and even our own potential failings.

Cooking is about control- ordering and directing everything from your ingredients, to your environment, to your equipment, to yourself. Baking- being necessarily hands-off for an enormous part of a process that is itself time-consuming- requires this to the extreme. It leads to bizarre truths of kitchen- the sauce for your steak having been started earlier that morning, or that freshly-baked pie starting it’s production nearly a week ago.
To invoke that much control, attention, and planning is practically a martial art- one that cooks call “mise en place.”

Mise-en-place for a professional kitchen

Image from Wikipedia

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Up In Smoke

Good evening, friends and neighbors.

The day had not been an especially good one. Between a hefty workload, arguments at work, and my own physical exhaustion, 7pm last night found me wearily huddled outside in my raincoat, under the portico of a friendly beer cart.

The weather had been threatening a nice, heavy, Portland soaker all day, and now it was coming through. My body ached in places I didn’t know existed. I was angry, cold, and exhausted. Bryan, my friend at the beer cart, poured me a Cherrywood Smoked Porter. Saint Burrito was also open a few steps away. I could smell the grilling meat and yellow rice.

One porter and an ancho chile chicken burrito later, I was feeling much better.
Yeah, it could have been low blood sugar or something similar- maybe “hanger issues.”
Either way, the taste and smell of smoke helped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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An Open Letter To New Culinary Students, From Someone Only A Little Older Than You

Good evening, friends and neighbors.

With the coming of fall, a lot of new stuff arrives. Polos and t-shirts give way to sweaters and scarves. (I’ll turn in my hoodie when you take it off my corpse,) Lemonade becomes apple cider, Pumpkin Spice becomes a way of life, and of course, school starts. Which means a new batch of students will be starting in culinary schools across the country.

A year or so ago, I wrote this open letter to recent pastry grads. With all the articles and open letters floating around the internet written by older cooks and chefs, I realized that their message was all pretty much the same. Every one of those letters I read talked about how “kids these days have no motivation” and the industry was way harder back when they were starting, and you need a thick skin and so on and so on.

A lot of it was true, and had very valid advice- but the tone, in general, I found really down and grim. I figured I would write one that came from someone NOT with long years of experience, but was young enough to remember when he was a graduate. Someone who will tell you what the culinary industry is like NOW, not thirty years ago.

So if you’re a new culinary/pastry student (or thinking of becoming one), this is for you.

 

An old picture of the author, heavier with a black apron.

We all started somewhere…

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