These last few days have been grey and gloomy, feeling very much like fall. The restaurant is closed on Monday and Tuesday, so I took yesterday to drive upstate and see the leaves. It's been 10 years since I lived on the east coast for all of a split second, and it was this same time of year that I moved to Boston, but I was different then and wasn't very interested in, or appreciative of the beauty and peace in simple things like the changing of leaves, or the ripple of wind on the river.
I'm happy that life moves forward, even if we dig in our heels and are reluctant to adapt to its speed. I'm grateful that nothing lasts forever, even though sometimes I don't recognize it in the moment. There are times when I am compelled to beat myself up for the mistakes of my youth, for not taking advantage of opportunities that were handed to me, for missing out on what was right in front of me. I was (am) a stubborn and strong-willed person, and I have often struggled to find a way to use that to my advantage, rather than allowing it to sabotage my success. These days, the moments of stubbornness and strong-will are often balanced with deep contemplation, hours of analyzation and pondering the merits of one choice versus another. I have found a calm in the kitchen amidst the hectic chaos. I have found a purpose and direction that I always knew was within me, but did not find the patience to steer in the right direction.
Baking has become a metaphor for me. It is dynamic in practice and serves to remind me that nothing is permanent. There are always highs and lows, burned forearms, sliced fingers, emotional and physical breakdowns, an ongoing and endless process that can make you feel overwhelmed with joy one moment and completely despondent the next. You can't count on any two days, even any two hours to be the same.
It takes a strong dedication and perseverance to be a pastry chef. To be anything, really, but to be a pastry chef takes intense dedication so as not to be totally discouraged by the mistakes. The rewards are beautiful and many.
You find your every sense being stimulated all day long- the vibrant, deep, contrasting colors of seasonal fruits and vegetables; the cool, smooth, elastic touch of dough as it rises; the sweet, buttery aroma filling your nose as something is pulled fresh from the oven; and, of course, all the new and sensational tastes that the kitchen brings.
Any who know me know that I am a caregiver. That I seek to care for people as much as I can, sometimes in the past to my own detriment. Cooking allows me the opportunity to take care of people in the most organic way possible. Baking affords me the luxury of being a part of peoples lives, in the most simple and honest way.
I'm moved to share the Killed by Dessert manifesto, written by one of my personal pastry idols, Michael Laiskonis:
We are pastry chefs. We are the red-headed step-children of the culinary brigade. You’ll find us in the basement, or in some hard-fought and carefully carved-out corner of the kitchen. We are protective of that space, our equipment, our atmosphere. We are particular. We strive to be masters of several disparate disciplines. We are sugar burners, cream puffs, the keepers of ‘Candyland’- and to too many who don’t know any better, we must certainly be just plain ‘bakers’ (not that there's anything wrong with that). We are respected, feared, and ignored.
We are pastry chefs. We treasure our autonomy within the rigid structure around us. We are often left to fend for ourselves and we embrace a do-it-yourself spirit. We are part of a community. We band together, share ideas, and push each other. We take full use of modern technology to create a subterranean network, to shrink the physical space between us. We speak a different language. We seek to explain our intentions through references others just don’t understand. We look at things through a slightly different lens.
We are pastry chefs. We find comfort in repetition and sameness. We are precise, clean, and dexterous. We prefer control to chaos. We are also spontaneous and prone to occasional fits of whimsy. We are students of subtlety. We seek to provide maximum impact. We must predict the future as we cook. We cook with clear intention. We are constantly receptive to inspiration, and that inspiration often comes from the unlikeliest of places. We like to break things that aren’t broken, just to see what happens.
We are pastry chefs. We find pleasure in hidden things. We are often most proud of what you rarely ever get to see. We want to let you in on our secrets. We like to speculate as to what your secrets might be. We are in the nostalgia business, and we have a unique opportunity, nay, a responsibility, to tap into your psyche. We recognize the powerful potential of food as a means of dialog. We want to make you happy.
We are pastry chefs. It is up to us to leave a pleasant last impression. Our work is often an afterthought of guests already satiated by savory. We admit that what we provide is mere luxury, yet we know we satisfy your innermost cravings. Each of us, at one time or another, has wished we could simply send dessert first. This is our chance. We just want to kill you with dessert.
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