Good evening, friends and neighbors!

One thing the profession bakeshop is never short of is mundane tasks- repetitive, dull, simple jobs that take forever and threaten to put your mind in a permanent torpor.

When it falls to me to handle on of these necessary (but dull and generally thankless) jobs, I usually find my mind wandering and ruminating on topics I had been reading about recently, or that current events bring to mind. Now and again, I’ll remember enough of my thoughts- or get to a pen and paper in time- to write them down.

These entries tend to wax philosophical, so if that isn’t your speed, hopefully I can offer something more appealing next time.

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The other day, I found myself having a brief conversation with the owner of a little deli near where I work. I was just coming off my shift, and we were talking about our respective days. I had just ruminated on the fact that 16 hours worth of preparation would be swept away in a banquet for about 750 people, in the space of an hour.

    The shop owner said, in a heavy accent that I have not yet placed, “It is a shame- they are eating and eating and never stop to think of who made it. They do not appreciate.”

    I nodded and, without really knowing why, I confessed- “Recognition and praise are great, but all I really want is to meet them- to look them in the eye and see that they are satisfied. I want to know I made a difference to them that day, and for them to know the face behind their food.”

    Altruism is a sticky subject, and one that philosophers and students much wiser and more educated than I have been fiddling with and working out for centuries. Its dictionary definition is “belief in or practice of disinterested selfless concern for the wellbeing of others.” In common use, it means giving of oneself without the expectation or desire of receiving anything in return- not even something intangible and self-bestowed, like a “warm fuzzy feeling.” In Zen Buddhism, it is possibly best described as being virtuous with no thought of virtuousness- doing the right thing, but not because it is the “right thing- it’s just what is to be done.

    If I’m honest- it’s something I suck at. Even my confessed wish to be recognized as the creator of their food and to simply know they are pleased- that is a reward, and thus my desire is not altruistic.

    I found myself thinking afterward, “Is that so wrong?” I am not a monk or a saint. Is it truly wrong to crave such a simple pleasure as the recognition of a job well done, or the knowledge that a creation’s objective has been met?

I don’t think so.

I have long been of the opinion that a creator or artist is blessed three times: first in the work itself, second in the completion , and third in giving the work away. Why would anyone willfully deny themselves such a blessing?

Or perhaps, it is not denying the blessing, but only the knowledge of it?

Thoughts worth thinking… but later.

Stay thoughtful.

Stay wondering.

and of course,

Stay classy,

BHB

Good evening, friends and neighbors!

Early this week, I was talking to my friend Karen at work. The day was promising to be hectic- we were two people short, and everyone was doing at least one other person’s job along with their own. I had just amassed my production list (a.k.a. my to-do list), and was beginning one of the jobs when Karen told me I was “getting in my own way” and it was driving her crazy.

“Getting in my own way?”, I asked, looking down at my station- a bit crowded to be sure, but clean and organized.

“Yes! You have things out for jobs your not doing yet, and it will take you forever!”

At that moment, I realized she was right- I had plates, tools, and all manner of things piled up on either side of my workspace, limiting me from a 2.5′ x 7′ table to an actual workspace of maybe 2′ x 2′.

I had worked myself out of working.

When I was in school, our chefs would constantly remind us to work clean, but two chefs in particular- Chef Tree McCann and Chef Annmarie Chelius- would remind us to work ORGANIZED, and have NOTHING on the tabletop that wasn’t important to what we were doing AT THAT MOMENT. It didn’t matter if we were going to be using it for the next thing, or picking it up again just as soon as we were done- if it wasn’t being used, it didn’t belong on the table.

At first, it seems like a pain in the neck, and a load of extra steps to take. After clearing away what was not immediately necessary, though, I found I had more space to use on the CURRENT task- I spread it out, and wound up completing it in a third of the time it might have taken me as I was used to.

Those who know me, or who have read this blog for any amount of time (thank you!) know that I have a penchant for comparative theology and philosophy, and that recently I have been enamored of Taoism. In a nutshell, Taoism is based on the idea that there is a specific nature and order to the universe, the Tao (the “Universal Way”) The Tao says that winters are supposed to be cold, summers to be hot, flowers are to bloom in spring, and leaves are to fall in autumn. When people expect things contrary to the natural order, or try to fight against it, that is when people have troubles.

I mentioned one of the key practices of Taoism in the title of this entry (typically in a horrible pun- I apologize)- wei wu wei. This translates as “Doing Not-Doing,” or more inaccurately as “Doing Nothing.” At first blush, many people interpret this as passiveness and inaction, when nothing can be further from the truth.

Wei wu wei is perhaps best described as “effortless action,” or “perfect flow.” It occurs when a person is so devoted and involved in a given activity that the action because as natural and effortless as breathing. Put poetically, it is when we can no longer tell the dancer from the dance, or the musician from the music they are playing. They are doing, without doing- refusing to let their intellect interfere, allowing the motion and music to flow from them as easily as a sigh. This comes from devotion, practice, patience, and the perfect mastery of oneself and one’s art.

Many cooks will talk about their “flow” or about “the dance” of a working kitchen- the motion of people around each other that looks like madness and chaos, but is in fact (at least in the best cases) a delicate choreography- every person in tune with what they are doing, and what their teammates are doing where. In a way, this is the same thing.

When you bake, focus on what you are doing. Let nothing distract you… and then stop thinking. Move in the way you need to move- no more than necessary, no less than required. Proceed through one thing at a time- the future will be along soon enough, and THEN you can deal with what comes next.

Stay calm.

Stay centered in yourself,

and of course-

Stay classy,

-BHB

Tonight finds me writing from a very familiar place- the hammock in my sunroom in my own house.

Tonight’s topic is a little different than some of the others I’ve done. It doesn’t really concern food so much, or fine beverages. It doesn’t really concern culture either- not literature, music, poetry, or even the folk stories I’ve occasionally featured here.

I suppose- to some readers- this may seem a cop-out due to writer’s block, or a lack of inspiration. In a way, that may be partially true. I had thought of exactly one topic I wanted to write about tonight, but I decided to hold off until I had done some more research (in order to keep it from being another whiny opinion piece on a hot-button issue.)

I spent most of the day and the entirety of this evening trying to think of a different topic. It wasn’t until this very moment though- with my feet up in the hammock, keyboard on my lap- that I found what I was looking for. In a way, I’ve been looking for it for the last few weeks at least.

I find myself at home, in a slightly-hotter-than-comfortable sunroom, at nearly 10 pm. The room doubles as a lounge/bar area. Since I’ve been living in this house, this room has been my special project- decorating, furnishing, everything meant to promote entertainment and hospitality. Now I find myself the guest in my own house.

Sitting beside me is a small shot glass of very good tequila- Hotel California Anejo. It’s a bottle I spent several years trying to hunt down. I’m nursing the shot straight up and neat. The refreshing agave flavor is mellowed with age, turning the bright crispness slowly into lustrous gold.

Besides the typing of keys on the keyboard, I can hear the crickets outside. The traffic on the highway a few blocks away, and the planes taking off and landing at the airport a few miles down the road.

No music, no tv, no news.

No Facebook or Twitter, no texts. My phone is silent, and my computer is solely focused on the same thing I am- typing this entry.

Eventually I will have to come out of this room. I will finish the tequila, turn off the light, post this entry, and head off to bed- looking toward a brief rest before I must rejoin the world at large, and all the beauty, horror, wonder, anger, rage, sadness, and warmth it has to throw in my face just for opening my eyes.

Not right now though. For the moment, I have found something I have been seeking for the last two weeks, and only realized I wanted it while searching for something to say.

A moment of quiet.

They are rare, but they are wonderful, and they are free.

I highly suggest having one regularly.

Stay classy,

BHB

Good evening, friends and neighbors! Sorry about the missed week- the 9 to 5 has been rougher than usual recently. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to maintain at the place, but it’ll at least have to be until I’m in a slightly more secure position.

Tonight, I’m writing from the Iron Room in Atlantic City, NJ- a place that’s becoming warmer and homier to me with every meal. An excellent beer selection, a wall of whiskey, small plates of exquisite food, and the exact kind of atmosphere I like- not too spread out and empty, but not SO intimate either. The perfect place to take the rough edges off the day with a few glasses of beer and some high-quality nibbles. If you’re in the area, I highly suggest it. My current writing fuel/ companion is a glass of Flying Fish’s NJ 350- a hoppy, yet pleasurable brew celebrating New Jersey’s 350th birthday. If you are a beer fan, and you like hops that show up in the front and then fade away to semi-sweet, malty goodness, this is for you.

None of this talks about the title though.

The Beautiful Itch has been discussed by people far more famous, influential, and eloquent than myself. It is a condition especially afflicting those who travel a lot in their work- musicians, writers, truck drivers, etc. The best way to describe it is “wanting to be home when you are away, but then wanting to be away when you are home.”

I do not travel nearly so much as I want to. I remember feeling envious when I would read the works of Kerouac (On The Road and The Dharma Bums) and Steinbeck (Travels with Charlie) and imagine myself traveling with them, only to come out of my reverie and find solace in the fact that the America they traveled and explored in the 60’s is likely no longer there- that I was born too late to miss anything. Hollow comfort at best.

(Interruption: Just had the head-on Gulf prawns with the fresh grated wasabi. Get it if it’s on the menu. They change stuff up a lot.)

I have friends that travel extensively- for work or other reasons by obscure means. I cannot help but envy them as well. The farthest abroad I have been is Israel, and that was fully 5 years ago. There is a veritable laundry list of places I want to go and things I want to see. There are a FEW tourist spots I want to see- Macchu Picchu, the Sistine Chapel, Petra in Jordan, etc. Most of all though, I want to see how the PEOPLE live. Most Floridians DON’T spend a week at Disney World (unless they work there.) Most Pisanos DON’T hang out at the Leaning Tower, either. They go to cafes. They go to local pubs, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Joe Schmoe working the ticket kiosk at the Louvre is a regular somewhere.

(Interruption 2: Korean BBQ Hangar Steak with sweet/sour Brussel sprouts and bacon. Get it.)

When you are traveling abroad, it is VERY tempting to stay on the tour bus- see what they want to show you, do the stuff that appears in the brochures, and exit through the gift shop.

Screw that. Go on your own and get lost. Listen to locals. If you stay at the hotel, don’t ask the concierge for good places to eat- ask the bellhop, or the cleaning lady. If you really want to get a feel for a city and find out where the people who LIVE there spend the time, ask them and find it.

You might encounter hostility, yes- some smaller local joints are fiercely “locals only.” You may even face some discrimination in favor of the locals and regulars. Don’t get angry, take it in stride. If the place is in with the locals, you likely will not regret it.

The quality of the food is NOT always proportional to the bill total. You may find that the best food you’ve ever had in your life came off the grill of a little shack down a Grecian alley, or a greasy spoon diner in a backwater American town.

Stay curious.

Stay worldly,

and most important-

Stay Classy,

-BHB