A chilly night, but not as chilly as it will eventually be. I’ve decided a thin-but-thermal cotton hoodie, t-shirt, and sudra will do as I get out to unwind on my Saturday. I’m at the Beer Bus, of course- I felt the need to gently socialize, and the bartender on weekends is a cool guy, but we don’t know each other quite well enough to chit-chat. I’ll bother him for a beer, do a little small talk, then I know he’ll go into his own world and chat with more regular customers while I do my thing. I get to just observe, drink some good beer, and write a bit.
A place that takes care to curate their beer offerings is worth hanging around…Continue reading →
I’ve gotten back into watching the classic “Twilight Zone” episodes lately. They are the right mixture of length and creep factor that I like to unwind with after work. I’ll usually crash out in my rocking chair, pour a little whiskey, put on an episode, and try to make Cleo share my legs with a knitting project.
Yes, I’ve got a thing for being cozy.
My favorite episodes are the ones that feature Ed Wynn (“One for the Angels”) or Jack Klugman (“A Passage for Trumpet” and “A Game of Pool,”) in addition to “The Changing of the Guard.” It’s pretty easy to see why, beyond Rod Serling’s work being patently incredible. I’m still thinking about legacies and impacts, and those episodes are about people coming to grips with theirs.
Everything we do impacts those around us in some way, so even when we act to create a legacy, we don’t (and can’t) always know what shape that legacy may take.
One of the banquet cooks at my winery has been learning to be a tattoo artist and not long ago got the go-ahead to find some clients to train on. After working with pen and paper and then fake skin, he’s got to do 50 pieces on other people under the supervision of his teachers. Offering yourself to be trained on can seem jarring, but it’s a wonderful way to get new work done for cheap- and if you know the artist (and where they work), it makes it more comfortable.
The reference picture and Tyler’s treatment for the tattoo
As I leaned back in the chair and Tyler put the stencil on me, his teacher walked up and said “Aw fer… you’re killing me, Tyler.” That’s kinda like hearing your surgeon go “Oops” just before you go under… but he followed it up by looking at me and saying “Friggin’ overachiever, this guy… made progress faster than anyone else, leans hard into everything, and now this. Tyler, how many does this make for you?”
Tyler chuckles and grins slightly under his beard at the praise and says “Well, uh… this is actually my first on someone else.”
Tyler and I are work acquaintances. We get along fine in the kitchen but don’t chat much. My head is always down in my pastry work and he buzzes about prepping for banquets. We both share in the community that kitchens everywhere create. This was the first time I saw him come alive, leaning into what he was passionate about and fully engaged.
Throughout the session, his teachers came over with praise and sent other students to watch him work. It was clearly his calling. I leaned back and couldn’t help but remember my squadmates eating my first pastries from home and saying “Why are you on an ambulance, Matt? You should be doing this!” I remember my therapist warning me not to walk away from the culinary life so lightly- “Matt, this is your calling. You come alive when you talk about it. Your eyes light up.”
The tattoo came out perfectly, and I get to be part of Tyler’s story about finding his calling, just like his work gets to be a part of me.
A Simple Dice Game
I think it’s got to be the feeling that makes dice games so enjoyable. I’ve always been a bit of a fidgeter, and the feel, look, and sound of rolling dice signals a particularly fun kind of gameplay. It “feels” more aggressively random and chancey watching dice skitter across a surface before coming to rest than pulling cards out of a deck or watching a marble whirl around a roulette wheel.
After my tattoo, I wandered into Montavilla Brew Works for a pint and they had a few of my favorites on tap. Montavilla Brew Works and its neighbor Threshold Brewing are where I got a make a small mark on the Portland beer scene. Montavilla in particular has several beers inspired by The Lord of the Rings, such as their “Palantir” Dark Ale, “Old Fellowship” Barleywine, “Peregrin” Palo Santo Wood-Aged Porter, and “Extra Special Baggins” Bitter.
Some time ago, I reached out to them with a suggestion- either an imperial stout as dark, strong, and evil as Morgoth, or a beer as bright, light, and cheery as Tom Bombadil. A few weeks later, they released their “Bombadil” Bright IPA. I might have liked the stout better, but I was thrilled to have played a part however small.
Today, as I walked in, Morgan the bartender came straight up to me with a grin and said “YOU sir, have caused an UPROAR.” She then turned around and shouted to the room “Hey all! It’s him, DICE GAME GUY!” and at least five people yelled in response “DICE GAME GUY!”
The “dice game” in question is part game, part logic/deduction puzzle called “Petals Around the Rose” when I learned it in college. It’s a simple but frustrating little challenge where one person who already knows the game rolls dice repeatedly and another person guesses the “answer” for a given roll. The object of the game is to figure out what rule is being followed to get each answer. When I first played it, my friend Jessica drove me nuts for three days trying to figure it out.
Some weeks ago, after Morgan and another patron were playing Yahtzee during a slow point in the day, I borrowed the dice and showed them the game just for a bit of fun. Apparently, Morgan then took the game and played it with other staff, who played it with other customers, and so on- each seeing how long it took the others to figure out the rule. When asked where it came from, Morgan just said “There’s this pastry chef named Matt who comes in and is a HUGE nerd, he showed it to me.”
So on a cloudy cold Sunday, I walked in to get a beer, and was greeted by a room of people all telling me how long it took them to figure out Petals Around the Rose (the fastest was & minutes, apparently) and Morgan gently scolded me saying “See, now you need to be more of a regular here. Everyone knows you.”
We can never tell just what it is about us that people will remember, and that’s a good thing. If we had to extrapolate every action of ours out Butterfly Effect-style, we’d go mad and paralyze ourselves into stagnation. We can’t walk around all day debating what every little thing we do will mean in a hundred years. All the same, to a lawyer in California, I’m the guy he used to drink with in Portland who came up with his favorite toast. To a cook, I was his first tattoo commission. To a brewery in Portland, I helped name one of their beers and introduced them to a new bar game. To an extent, our legacies and memories are in the hands of other people.
When you realize you never know what you’ll be remembered for, it makes you choose your activities wisely, treat others kindly, and live a more engaged and joyous life.
Several things can be true at once. In my case, all of the following are 100% accurate: 1. I “chose” to be a writer. 2. I gained some weight in the last few years that I’m working on losing. 3. I practice meditation daily. and 4. I always have to be doing something.
Besides my baking and wannabe-writing careers, I’m a guy with a lot of little crafts and hobbies on the side. It’s always good to be multifaceted, and the majority of my hobbies veer toward the cozier parts of life. I homebrew, I knit, I play guitar and harmonica (not in any bands, and not especially well- just good enough to please myself and some friends,) I read and enjoy good whiskey.
Over the last year and change, however, you would be forgiven for thinking one of them was “Losing My Shit on the Internet for Hours of the Day.” In my end-of-the-year post, I talked about how 2024 was about “coming back to myself” and relearning who I am. Part of that process is also deciding who I am not, and what I don’t want to be. When you love something enough to make it an important part of your life, you need to treat it like it’s important– and get rid of the stuff you don’t want to be important.
“I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been; Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were, with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair. I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see. For still there are so many things that I have never seen: in every wood in every spring there is a different green. I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago and people who will see a world that I shall never know. But all the while I sit and think of times there were before, I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.“ – Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien
Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona Multi: sed omnes illacrimabiles Urgentur, ignotique longa Nocte, carent quia vate sacro. (“Many heroes lived before Agamemnon, but they are all unmourned, and consigned to oblivion, because they had not their sacred bard.”)
– Horace
I first read that quote on a webpage of Latin mottos where it was offered as just the first statement- “Vixere fortes ante agamemnona”- to mean that heroism exists even if no one notices it. Ironically, or perhaps appropriately, this is a perfect demonstration of the power of the pen. The quote itself extols the role of writers and poets in giving heroes immortality.
The metacontext of the quote is that when Horace wrote the passage in his Odes, he was simping for the original “sacred bard” Homer, author of the Iliad where Agamemnon’s story is recounted. Some translators have taken a little poetic license on this and interpret the passage (the way I first heard it) as “Brave men lived before Agamemon, but they died forgotten, for there were no poets before Homer.”
The meta-metacontext is that, if you read the Iliad at all, Agamemnon is pretty much an absolute knob, a coward, a monster, and absolutely responsible for all of his own failures including and especially his own death. So millennia of writers and poets have been needed to burnish his story into anything remotely resembling a hero.
That’s what we in the creative business call “serious workshopping.”
The idea came simply and quietly at the usual time- when I was working on something entirely different.
One of our customers asked if we made any Handpies that could meet their lower-than-usual price point. They loved our pies- as did their customers- but the rising costs of ingredients meant that for a lot of our flavors they would have to charge more than they thought their customers would tolerate.
So rather than cut off the pies completely, they asked my owner- who in turn asked me- if we had any recipes that would 1. Be delicious, 2. Be popular with customers at a cafe, and 3. Wouldn’t use too much of our more expensive ingredients so they could be sold at the desired low point.
Necessity may be the mother of invention, but economics and desperation make fantastic midwives. As I went through our recipe books, checked with suppliers to see what ingredients cost what, and started spitballing ideas on our whiteboard (“Pineapple is cheap right now… a pineapple pie? What’s more expensive right now, berries or nuts? What can one person make quickly to reduce labor?”) three ideas from my past and present slammed into each other.
The father of invention had shown up, and it’s name was “Why Not?”
The Black Hat Baker 