Good evening, friends and neighbors!
It’s Sunday morning- my Monday at the cafe, and the ritual begins as soon I walk in.
Good evening, friends and neighbors!
It’s Sunday morning- my Monday at the cafe, and the ritual begins as soon I walk in.
Good evening, friends and neighbors.
The professional kitchen has a reputation for being loud, busy, sweaty/on fire, and mired in what looks like absolute chaos but is, in fact, a precise choreography (affectionately called “the dance.”)
Not all kitchens have this vibe though. Some high-level chefs enforce a “silent kitchen-” where if you are not calling orders, calling back orders, or otherwise describing the tasks immediately at hand, you are to be silent and focused utterly on your work.
For the most part, pastry kitchens are considerably more quiet than the average, line kitchens. The very best ones are almost like medieval scriptoriums- lines of bakers focused quietly and diligently on delicate work.
In all kitchens, though, there are times when it MIND NUMBINGLY BORING.
Good evening, friends and neighbors.
About a year ago this past December, I got my first tattoo.
Good evening, friends and neighbors.
It had been a rough week. Between a long work week, tax season, car problems and more, Emily and I have been failing miserably at our resolution to just have boring lives for a few months.
Last Sunday, Emily decided that we both needed a day to relax and just mosey around- me especially. After thinking about what kind of things would help me relax, we decided the first order of business was a hot bowl of ramen for lunch, and then maybe an afternoon at Lan Su Garden.
As you might expect, business was VERY swift that day, and I was double-timing it around the kitchen. As the only pastry guy on duty that day, I had to make sure the front was stocked. Pastries, pies, cakes, pudding- whatever I could whip up with what was available that the customers would like.