I like to think I’m not a slouch in the bakeshop. That is, after nearly a decade, I should certainly hope I’m not. Between confidence in my skills, good time management, preparation, and prioritization I’m considerably faster at various tasks than the people I train.
All those things come with experience, but the one thing that I’ve had to learn and am still learning is that I can go faster if I slow down first.
When it comes to interviewing for positions, people tend to forget that it’s a two-way process. Both the interviewer AND interviewee are feeling the situation out, trying to see if they are feeling and looking for the same thing.
The idea of someone’s energy or vibe being out of sync with what an employer is looking for might sound strange in an industry where people work close but not so close. If someone comes off as “naturally” nervous or distracted interviewing for an office job, that can be shrugged off as jitters. After all, they’ll be working in their own space.
For kitchen workers, however, where the job means working in close proximity to each other for hours on end and people becoming more like family than coworkers, the energy you possess and project carries a lot more weight. A resume and even a stage might demonstrate an applicants capability, but if they come off as restless, nervous, or even creepy, a manager will think twice before jeopardizing the harmony of their kitchen and their team.
When you walk into an interview, what energy do you convey?
When you decide (and are given the opportunity) to be a team leader, you will eventually have to decide how to build your team. As tempting as it is to want to feed everything to a formula or algorithm, scan resume after resume and call in anyone that fits the metrics you need, we all know that doesn’t always pan out.
Life is messy and squishy. The people you hire may have the technical skills you need, but lack the interpersonal and intrapersonal skills that would make them effective. It’s hard to set hard numbers on “soft skills”– and even harder to gauge how a person will interact with and impact the performance of others.
Hiring for a kitchen is a masterclass in these factors. It’s hard to imagine a more brutal crucible than a busy restaurant or bakery. The work is rough, the atmosphere can be tense, and the nature of the business is working closely with others. Tempers and passions flare, motivations clash, and successful teams are the ones where everyone can pull together.
What do I look for in a would-be piemonger? A lot of what you’d expect, but maybe not how you expect it.
I get asked a lot of questions about my career as a baker.
Was it what I always wanted to do? (No- I remember wanting to be Indiana Jones for years.)
Aren’t the early morning hours rough? (They can be, but you eventually either get used to them, go mad, or advance far enough that you don’t have to work them anymore.)
Is it rewarding? (Absolutely.)
The most common one, however, is “do you want to run your own pie shop one day?”
The answer to that one is “…Maybe kinda?” I have kicked the idea back and forth in my head for ages, especially since I moved out to Portland and started surrounding myself with other entrepreneurs in the industry. Over post-shift beers and conversations across counters, I’ve gotten some solid insights into the life of a small business owner. It’s rewarding, and it can be fun, but it can also be a massive stressor and its own flavor of hell. You can’t really blame everything on the owner or boss, either- you know just how much of a screw-up that fella can be, but they’re trying hard.
All the same, it doesn’t hurt to dream. Between chats with other pros and a little soul-searching, I think I’ve got a good idea of what my dream shop would be like. It almost certainly won’t wind up quite like this, but I wouldn’t mind trying.
Fall is without a doubt my favorite season. Flip flops and shorts give way to jeans and boots, t-shirts becomes hoodie and scarves, and the world makes it clear that it’s getting close to time to wind down.
For everyone who’s not running a pie shop, that is.
As soon as summer ends, it’s the signal for my pie shop to shift into high gear. We’ve pulled out of farmer’s markets for the remainder of the year to focus everything on production. A frustrating and confusing decision for sure- fall is prime farmer’s market business- but in the context of a tight team, it makes more sense. The time between Halloween and New Years Eve is our Super Bowl. I have been trying to train my team and stock us up on supplies for the entire year, because we are about to make fully 30% of our income for the year in 8 weeks.
It’s “go time.” We’ll be ready, though. It’s what I’ve trained for, in the career I was born for. As pie after pie flies out the door into waiting hands, though, it’s easy to forget why I love being a baker. I’m no longer the adrenaline junkie I was when I started in this field, despite what my caffeine addiction might say about it.
Pie after pie after pie into one set of hands after another, it’s easy to forget that these customers are people- that our pie is going to be enjoyed by their families, and that it will make their various holiday dinners that much more enjoyable.
It’s important to do business well, but you can never forget why you chose to go into business or join an industy like this. For me, no matter how many pies I sell or books I write, I have one small and simple dream.
I want to be Matt the Baker.
“Do what you love” is the best and worst advice you can ever give someone. Given a choice, few people would ever willingly spend eight hours a day doing something they despise, but figuring out how- or more often, what it is that you “love”- is a tall order. Even when you do, you have to figure out exactly how you’ll love to do it and what to do if that changes.
There’s lots of ways to be a “baker” or “pastry chef,” and the job itself can vary wildly. More time in the kitchen or less? Small operation, or a cog in a corporate machine? Fine dining or simple cafe? Year-round or seasonal? It takes a while to figure out what you like to do, and you can waste a lot of time chasing what you think you’re “supposed” to want or like doing.
So who would I be as “Matt the Baker,” and what would I do?
I would be Matt the Baker, and Matt the Baker would be me. I’d be a part of my community- The Baker. I’d make pies, cookies and pastries all day, everyday. I’d sell them and know each and everyone of my customers by name and face. I want to remember their birthdays and anniversaries, and make sure I have their favorite flavors on hand.
I want to have regulars. I want people who make my pie part of their routine, and I want to see their kids grow up eating my pie. I want to hire the ones that are curious, teach them to bake, and send them off to culinary school to learn to do more and better.
I have no interest in wholesale or catering. I want to pick and change my menu based on what is available near me and what my customers love. I don’t want any middleman between me that the people who eat my work. I know that will make my work more seasonal and give me less wiggle room- wholesale and events do offer a certain amount of financial security for all the effort that goes into making a retailer or organization happy- but it will never be worth the frustration and irritation to me.
My business will start. It will grow as far as I care for it to, and when- if- I’m ready to move on and not be Matt the Baker anymore, I will sell or leave it others and move on knowing I spent my life and time building something simple and beautiful, and needed for its time.
Plenty of people in this world will make a lot more money and be more “successful” without being able to say that.
I want to leave behind happy people, a lot of stories, and plenty of good memories. It may not happen as “Chef Matt”- but it will happen the closer I get and stay to just being “Matt the Baker.”
Stay Classy,
The Black Hat Baker 