The Silence Between Sips

Outside on the street, a car alarm is blaring. It’s not exactly a suburban neighborhood, but quiet enough that a random car alarm is more than background noise to a spring night.

I’m in the rocking chair I’ve adopted as mine- having trash-picked, thoroughly sprayed, cleaned, and draped it with an afghan. I’m sipping some rye whiskey while my wife alternates between her keyboard and piano, writing assignments for students. There’s some random “quiet time” music from Spotify playing, but it’s getting a little too happy and janky. I’m trying to write.

I need quiet, but with a little noise mixed in- like even the best whiskey needs a little drop of water to open up everything it has to offer.

Some jellybeans are a good addition too.
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The Cost of Doing Business

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.

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Snapshots from the Bakeshop IV- “The Band Played On”: Baking Through A Pandemic

My eyes pop open into the dark of our pre-dawn bedroom. No haziness yet, no sleep fog, just a quiet “oh goddammit” as I roll over and check the time. Tapping the bedside table is enough motion for my Apple Watch to wake itself up and inform me that I’m half an hour ahead of my 4:30 am alarm. I groan, grab my phone, and resolve to keep myself up by catching up on the latest news.

Tiptoeing around the apartment trying not to wake my wife, and enduring the loud pesterings of a bratty cat who has taken VERY quickly to being fed in the early morning.

Gotta eat breakfast, meditate, and get cleaned up. Gonna need all the goodwill I can gather, because God forbid people go without their croissants in a pandemic.

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The God of Hospitality

Good evening, friends and neighbors! Sorry this blog is a day late- I was a little tied up for the same reason there wasn’t a “Whiskey and Jellybeans” yesterday. Namely, finally celebrating Passover with my family!

After a fashion, anyway

I did take the opportunity to do a little writing and thinking on the subject though. So let’s start with a seriously impolitic question today.

What god do you worship?

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Having Talent is No Excuse

Good evening, friends and neighbors.

The worlds of food and classical music don’t always intersect- beyond the artistry and passion of their respective devotees, that is. When my wife (a piano teacher) and I discuss our work with each other, one of us is usually on “home turf.” I’m a professional baker and she loves to cook, or she’s expounding on an obscure piece of music and I know a couple big names. That’s marriage for you, though- we don’t “complete” each other, but we do find ways to be complete together.

In that sense, we often discuss ideas like discipline, teaching methods, leadership (in the context of our workplaces,) and the artistic aspects of what we’ve built our lives around.

And one thing that we agree on wholeheartedly is that talent doesn’t mean a damn thing.

Photo by OVAN on Pexels.com
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