Ebb and flow

Today marks my last day of my first week at Blue Hill. It's crazy to think that it has only been 5 days of work. This weekend has been a long, delirious, beautiful experience, with today being my first big event at the restaurant. We hosted a marketplace event where folks from an unnamed corporation were able to experience a bit of farm life. I manned the "tomato table" where I served samples of four different heirloom varieties from local farms (green zebra, brandywine, orange beefsteak, and the great white) and, as simple as that may sound, it was a delightful treat and a great way to break up the 15 hour day. I have to say, as much as I enjoy the bakeshop, and as much as I am finding confidence and comfort in dinner service in the restaurant, the event today really enforced my belief that catering is where I am headed. I love to bake, I love the solitude of early, cool hours with the smells of yeasty breads and sweet pastries, but there is something to be said for getting to witness the experience that folks have as they enjoy those treats. I crave that interaction, I am learning, it is the element in which I most thrive, and it fuels my desire to continue feeding and serving people. Beyond the event today, I started the weekend off harvesting asian pears from the farm, followed by prepping and making purees from peaches, plums, and concord grapes. Brief as it may be, I look forward to and treasure any time I get to spend in the orchard or on the farm. It is part of what drew me to this place, and I wish someday to have a farm of my own. I love the fact that I can walk downstairs, out the door about a hundred yards, and have at my disposal nearly every piece of produce that I could want. Today someone commented that this is not how the real world is, and that "American's don't eat like this", which saddened me to hear. Perhaps I am naive, but I don't believe it is unrealistic to hope that everyone can have this kind of experience. If you have never tasted a fresh tomato off the vine, or an ear of corn recently harvested from the stalk, or even a potato straight from the ground, you are missing part of the sweetness that this life offers. As I have said before, I am aware of the way that I have idealized this place and these kinds of experiences, but I do not believe it is out of the realm of possibility that all can share these experiences. One needn't pay hundreds of dollars to taste these foods at Blue Hill (though, I will admit, what I have seen here, and what we produce, does seem to be extraordinary), one must only go as far as the closest piece of land (backyard, window box, farm in the next town over) to enjoy this. I am encouraged by the eagerness that my fellow chefs bring to their work, and I have found myself challenged to become a better, more critical chef by this eagerness. I must admit, though, I was unprepared for the name-dropping that seems so prevalent in this world. I hope that my skill will speak for itself and that my attitude will pave the way for future endeavors, but I am moderately discouraged by the "who knows who" attitude that I am finding runs RAMPANT in this industry. Do we not all share the same love for food and feeding people? Are we not all in this industry because we see the beauty in creating an experience and product by which people are moved? I choose to believe that we chefs, we culinary artists, are driven by a force much greater than praise, and that we would prefer happy, satisfied, full-bellied guests over the momentary satisfaction of having met someone famous, or having worked for someone famous. This may seem hypocritical given my love of Dan Barber, but more than the joy of being able to say that I work for him, I am delighted to say that I am learning from him. He is no greater a human than any of my less "famous" chefs, and I stand to learn just as much from them, and indeed, I am. As this long, hard week draws to a close, and in the midst of the high holiday season, I am so satisfied, so grateful, so humbled, and so earnest in my desire to create more experiences like those that I have had so far. Objectives for tomorrow: SLEEP! And possible wash some of my clothes, which now permanently smell of sweat, oil, fruit (did you know that a million quarts of peach puree can eventually smell like poop?), and meat. Yes, there is soooooooooo much meat here. It's a beautiful thing to converse with a boar one evening, and then eat it the next. And, on that note, I can't wait to break the fast with my executive chef in just a few days. :) Yes, this new year is Happy.