We Don’t Need Permission to Be

June 23, 2024June 23, 2024 / The Black Hat Baker / 1 Comment

The winery where I work has an excellent view. It’s a major selling point as far as our clientele goes- people can look down on the valley over vineyards and woodland while sipping a glass of wine and take it easy. It’s a magnet for photos and set dressing when weddings and celebrations buy out some space.

When I arrive to work early in the morning, that view is usually all mine- but I don’t take advantage of it at all. I have work to do.

That’s no one’s fault but mine, of course. I get in early because that’s when The Baker shows up. I get the most space and most access to the ovens for a limited time before the rest of the kitchen rolls in mid-morning to afternoon, and I need to get to work.

So I show up early, knowing I have work to do, but I always want to walk out on the patio where the guests sit- where I absolutely don’t belong during business hours (and in fact would prefer not to be)- and just soak up that view for a moment. The stillness. The vastness. My smallness. The soothing balm of scale and insignificance to start the day, and keep with me while I obsess over rolls, bites of cake, and bits of chocolate that manage to mean everything to me… and absolutely nothing at all.

I never do, though. I have work to do, and I don’t get paid- OR pay- to enjoy the view.

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A Brief Homecoming

April 18, 2024April 18, 2024 / The Black Hat Baker / Leave a comment

“A man would know the end he goes to, but he cannot know it if he does not turn, and return to his beginning, and hold that beginning in his being. If he would not be a stick whirled and whelmed in the stream, he must be the stream itself, all of it, from its spring to its sinking in the sea.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea

I knew that a lot had changed at my old culinary school before I turned off the Black Horse Pike in Mays Landing into the campus. There were better and brighter signs on the road to the parking lots, for starters. I peeked down drives slowly, trying to remember which lots were for students and faculty and which ones a visitor would go unnoticed in.

The larger one in the back of the campus- now shaded by sun covers that doubled as solar energy panels- fit the bill and it was right near the main entrance that I rarely used as a student. Students always went in a side door near a smaller lot, closer to the majority of the classrooms and kitchens. Not that too many young culinarians still used it. Class sizes apparently plummeted due to COVID and the Culinary Industry Brain Drain. Even coming from a community college, culinary school wasn’t a winning proposition for young people tight on money and prospects. It was a place now for two kinds of students- the passionate, and the lost.

Fortunately, those are exactly the kinds of folks that have kept the industry moving for years. I walked up the wide, low concrete steps and pushed open the door. Rather than noise from busy kitchens and clamoring students in pressed white uniforms, I’m greeted by silence- and the mingled smells of butter, hot fat, flour, bread ovens, and cold vegetables. I can never forget that smell. Some things haven’t changed at all.

“Welcome back, Matt.”

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Time In A Bottle- In Praise of Whiskey

April 1, 2024April 2, 2024 / The Black Hat Baker / Leave a comment

It’s easy to be staggered by even a small selection. If the legendary Fountain of Youth were real and the Water of Life changed character and flavor with every drop, I’m not sure I’d care which one I got. When each “drop” can cost between $20 and $2000+, though… one feels the need to be a little choosy.

While my dad loves wine and passed his knowledge of tasting and experiencing wine down to me well enough, wine just never sang in me the same way whiskey and beer have. No less an art form, requiring no less craft and patience and care, people have spent their lives in pursuit of their perfect dram, let alone the perfect one. Among my goals in life is to have my own little whiskey collection- not large by any means, but each bottle curated with care to suit any situation myself or my guest might bring to my bar.

What’s stopping me? In order to have a collection of whiskeys, one must either make enough money to buy more whiskey than one can buy quickly, or drink it slowly enough that a collection can accumulate. Either track is, alas, remarkably challenging.

Tellingly, the word “whiskey” is derived from the Gaelic “uisgebatha,” which translates to “water of life.” If legends and folktales tell us anything, the quest for the Water of Life is anything but easy or short. In my own meandering experience, however, it is incredibly enjoyable.

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Food and Drink- Keeping it Local

January 27, 2024 / The Black Hat Baker / 3 Comments

Growing up in my wine enthusiast father’s house, I started learning about alcohol at 13. My sisters and I were passed small sips of whatever he and my mother were drinking, gently quizzed on what we tasted and smelled as far as our early-teen brains could describe ”flavor notes,” and then given an instructive lecture on that particular wine, where it came from, what caused those flavors, and the idea of terroir– that you could taste the unique chemistry of the soil and climate in the products of it’s earth.

I can tell you now that, despite my father’s instruction, I never really fell in love with wine. Unless it’s especially unusual, I will always enjoy wine as “interesting fun grape juice.” Unless it’s terrible, then I just don’t finish.

My dad was not speaking into a void though. What he said DID land and plant a seed, although it grew to be more inclined to beer and liquor, which I can say I then cultivated with the hearty fertilizers of sociology, history, anthropology, and being really damned curious when faced with the unfamiliar-but-promising.

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The Staff Of Life, Liquified

December 31, 2023January 6, 2024 / The Black Hat Baker / Leave a comment

“Beer was liquid bread. Bread was solid beer.”
– Tom Standage, “A History of the World in Six Glasses

Walking in is as different at every beer hall as it is the same. Different decor, different vibe to the place, different service… different menus to be sure. Behind it all is a shared sensory vocabulary, however, that make each reminiscent of the others.

The arrangement of tables in the hall, sometimes, so that there is a selection of intimate booths for those who want to drink alone or in very select company and long linked tables for boisterous get-togethers and ersatz parties among colleagues. The general geography- you can see the seats and you can see the bar (the style and texture of which again reflects the mood and vibe of the place.) There is a clear order of operations to be observed here. A ritual to be followed and walked as carefully and unconsciously (for the faithful) as the Stations of the Cross.