The day was already cooler for a Portland summer- way cooler than the oppressive heat wave we were promised for later in the week- and as the sun goes down behind the buildings and hills of the Willamette Valley, it’s starting to just get slightly chilly.
Perfect weather for eating outside and getting a cold beer or two- as long as you don’t mind your face feeling a bit warm.
Anthony Bourdain wasn’t my culinary hero. The closest I have to culinary heroes are Masaharu Morimoto (for my memories of him as an Iron Chef), Albert Adria for raw artisanship, and Jacques Pepin for his ability to teach.
Anthony Bourdain was a literary hero for me, and a role model for how he approached food and life. He is still an inspiration for me as a storyteller because of his ability to remove himself from the center of it. He could write himself almost as a narrator, bearing witness to the food, the people, and the stories of their lives that THEY had to tell.
That was his greatest gift to me, I think. Not just inspiration to BECOME a cook (he certainly provided that as well), but an object lesson in how to connect with others, and help them tell their stories.
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.
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.
Hello there, friends and neighbors. Hopefully you are all keeping safe and well, and that la vida casa isn’t getting to you too much.
Since the layoffs started, I’ve been trying to reach out to my culinary friends however I can just to check up on them. It really is the cruelest irony- we’re folks who “never have enough time” and now…. we’re kinda drowning in it.
Of course, it’s not just “what shall I do with all my free time” that’s got former kitchen workers in a froth… but it’s also not just the financial worries of being unemployed/laid off, though God knows that’s more than enough.
What I’m finding even more among not just culinary people, but ANYONE who’s been working in a given field their whole lives and suddenly finds themselves “non-essential” is the need to get back to work for work’s sake.
The Black Hat Baker 