It’s Not The Floorspace, It’s the Headspace

Good evening, friends and neighbors.

It’s a Sunday afternoon in Portland. The sky has been spitting rain all day and threatening more, but in Portland you tend to just get used to a constant state of moisture. I didn’t even bother with a jacket or umbrella on my way out today. I’ll be under cover or shelter long before the wetness can bother me, and the cool air feels sweet to breathe.

 

I’ve just gotten off the phone with an old friend of mine who had more than a few words to say about self-publishing, and I researched some new technology to make doing my work as the Black Hat Baker easier. Now, I find myself (finally) getting ready to tell you all about whatever’s on my mind this week.
Just another day at the office… except this office I share with the rest of the city.

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On Doubt and Feline Doughnuts

​Good evening, friends and neighbors!
There’s been a lot of thinking, rethinking, and nefarious plotting going on at my end recently- what I want “On The Bench” to be next, what it used to be versus what it has become, and how I want to go about tackling that “next big thing” we ALL worry about- the big project, the big presentation, the opening day, the whatever.
In the midst of all of it, two fortuitous memories resurfaced amid the frothy madness that the waters of life work themselves up into.

The first one is the video below, which remains one of the single best pieces of advice I’ve ever gotten for attempting ANY project EVER- personal, professional, or academic.

The second one is a bit more of a story. This blog will therefore be a little different than the others- part story, and part actual news update about what this blog will turn into, and what I want to do next.

Watch the video, and I’ll see you after the jump. Thank you Extra Credits for handing down some sage advice that makes so much sense, I wished I’d learned it earlier in life.

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Break Time

Good evening, friends and neighbors.

It never feels like there’s enough hours in the day.

The days when I could feel content crashing out on my bed till late afternoon, gaming or watching cartoons are long over. Since getting my body into a shape that, to be blunt, I WANT to do things with, I’ve had way more energy and interest in life than I ever had before.
That can sometimes be a curse, though. When my interests are pulled between homebrewing, writing, playing guitar, gaming (still kept that up a bit), reading, and exercise, I find myself unable to be satisfied with a day where I feel I didn’t accomplish something. Simply put, I’ve lost the ability to enjoy a lazy day- much to the frustration of my wife.

 

Well, it beats just spending all day in the kitchen, right?
A cook rubbing his eyes in a kitchen stressed

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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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