Sticky Pecan Goodness
Need I say more?
Merry Happy
Seeing as how writing here can work nicely as procrastination, well, you get a Erev Christmas blogpost.* C and I went to see "Good Night and Good Luck" last night, and if you haven't seen it, go do that before it's completely gone from the theaters. I've been forced to move George Clooney up the list. Don't get me wrong--it's not as though I would have thrown him out of bed for eating soda crackers--but, in part as a reaction to the volume of publicity he got around ER, he never really made it to my personal top ten. I saw him being interviewed w/r/t this movie, too, and was impressed by his obvious intelligence, and, after seeing the movie, I've moved him up.
What's on tap for the next few days, you ask? Today I'm making sticky buns--i.e., pecan sweet rolls--and fermented dough; tomorrow morning I'll bake some cranberry pecan bread and some cheese bread (with $12/pound-imported-gruyere, which is probably excessive) with the fermented dough. Tonight C and I go to a local restaurant that has a special Cuban Christmas Eve dinner each year: mmmm; pulled pork and plantains! Tomorrow we go to C's mom's place, where I think pork is on the menu. The needlepoint is coming along, but I haven't done any yet today and there's only three more hours of daylight, so I think it'll just have to go with me tomorrow. I'm also bringing along some cream puffs and some pastry cream to fill them, plus the aforementioned breads, plus the recipe for crepes (for Monday morning, just in case we've run out of food).
The financial situation isn't as bad as it could have been, which is nice. C and I prepared for a nearly-worst-case scenario (i.e., I get no unemployment and no other income), and we could still scrape by, albeit with a little debt on the credit card. Thanks to my unemployment checks ($302 per week! woo-hoo!), and a paycheck from October or November (I haven't seen it yet, so I don't know whether it's a full or partial check; one of our clients paid for some work, so checks have been cut and sent), and, according to my mother this morning, a check from my parents (who are very quite generous about these things), we might even be able to get rid of the credit card debt, which would be very lovely. Plus, I suspect I'll get some money back from the IRS this year.
My current goal is to stop paying for groceries with the credit card. When I was paying off the balance every month, it kind of made sense, because I have a points-accumulating credit card (from L.L. Bean, which also means free shipping from them). Now, though, it mostly feels like it's screwing up our budgeting efforts, because we pay for last month's groceries on the bill. More to the point, when I've been broke in the past, I much preferred paying for things with cash or checks; it kept the debt from piling up. It worked then, so I'd like to get back to it.
I realized recently that the strangest thing about being married is that our finances are even more deeply intertwined--what with a joint return and all--no matter that we keep, and will continue to keep, separate accounts. It's extremely weird for me, and, to tell you the truth, I don't much like it. I've worked my ass off to keep my credit rating as good as it is, but C hasn't been quite as . . . diligent, which is his business. Now that we're married, however, his relative lack of diligence has a much greater effect on me. And did I mention that I really don't like joint income tax filing? Not even a little bit. (In the Kids These Days section of this rant, I feel compelled to point out that many young women don't realize that I couldn't have anything separate thirty or so years ago--women's finances were inextricably tied to their husbands', and woe betide the woman who wanted a separate account of any kind.) But C and I talk about this, so I think we'll be alright.
Okay, people, I've procrastinated enough; I hear the pecans call me from the next room. In case I haven't told you this story, I once asked my father why we celebrated Christmas if we didn't believe in Christ; without missing a beat, he replied, "We celebrate Hallowe'en and we don't believe in ghosts; why give up a perfectly good holiday?" So, in that spirit, have a lovely holiday--hell; celebrate all of them!
________________________
*For those of you who aren't Jewish, "Erev" is the same as "Eve," i.e., the day before the holiday.
What's on tap for the next few days, you ask? Today I'm making sticky buns--i.e., pecan sweet rolls--and fermented dough; tomorrow morning I'll bake some cranberry pecan bread and some cheese bread (with $12/pound-imported-gruyere, which is probably excessive) with the fermented dough. Tonight C and I go to a local restaurant that has a special Cuban Christmas Eve dinner each year: mmmm; pulled pork and plantains! Tomorrow we go to C's mom's place, where I think pork is on the menu. The needlepoint is coming along, but I haven't done any yet today and there's only three more hours of daylight, so I think it'll just have to go with me tomorrow. I'm also bringing along some cream puffs and some pastry cream to fill them, plus the aforementioned breads, plus the recipe for crepes (for Monday morning, just in case we've run out of food).
The financial situation isn't as bad as it could have been, which is nice. C and I prepared for a nearly-worst-case scenario (i.e., I get no unemployment and no other income), and we could still scrape by, albeit with a little debt on the credit card. Thanks to my unemployment checks ($302 per week! woo-hoo!), and a paycheck from October or November (I haven't seen it yet, so I don't know whether it's a full or partial check; one of our clients paid for some work, so checks have been cut and sent), and, according to my mother this morning, a check from my parents (who are very quite generous about these things), we might even be able to get rid of the credit card debt, which would be very lovely. Plus, I suspect I'll get some money back from the IRS this year.
My current goal is to stop paying for groceries with the credit card. When I was paying off the balance every month, it kind of made sense, because I have a points-accumulating credit card (from L.L. Bean, which also means free shipping from them). Now, though, it mostly feels like it's screwing up our budgeting efforts, because we pay for last month's groceries on the bill. More to the point, when I've been broke in the past, I much preferred paying for things with cash or checks; it kept the debt from piling up. It worked then, so I'd like to get back to it.
I realized recently that the strangest thing about being married is that our finances are even more deeply intertwined--what with a joint return and all--no matter that we keep, and will continue to keep, separate accounts. It's extremely weird for me, and, to tell you the truth, I don't much like it. I've worked my ass off to keep my credit rating as good as it is, but C hasn't been quite as . . . diligent, which is his business. Now that we're married, however, his relative lack of diligence has a much greater effect on me. And did I mention that I really don't like joint income tax filing? Not even a little bit. (In the Kids These Days section of this rant, I feel compelled to point out that many young women don't realize that I couldn't have anything separate thirty or so years ago--women's finances were inextricably tied to their husbands', and woe betide the woman who wanted a separate account of any kind.) But C and I talk about this, so I think we'll be alright.
Okay, people, I've procrastinated enough; I hear the pecans call me from the next room. In case I haven't told you this story, I once asked my father why we celebrated Christmas if we didn't believe in Christ; without missing a beat, he replied, "We celebrate Hallowe'en and we don't believe in ghosts; why give up a perfectly good holiday?" So, in that spirit, have a lovely holiday--hell; celebrate all of them!
________________________
*For those of you who aren't Jewish, "Erev" is the same as "Eve," i.e., the day before the holiday.
Seventeen
In celebration of the solstice, not to mention's B's birthday yesterday, he and I met for lunch. It was supposed to be a festival of meat, wherein we consumed enough protein for a small village; a local Brazilian Meat Restaurant has the same menu, but cheaper prices, at lunch. He got a late start, so we just went to a place near where we used to work. Part 2 of the plan was to walk in the extensive woods near his house, so we changed into several layers of warmer clothes and did that, for about three hours. We saw seventeen deer, including a 10-point buck and a second buck that was nearly as big. It was extremely cool, and, thanks to the traipsing through the snow and so on, not cold. There was a lovely sunset, as well, and then we went to a bar that has approximately 10 Belgian beers and another 10-12 good beers (including three from Bell's) on tap. I started with a glass of mead, though, because it seemed appropriate for the solstice, somehow. The only down side to this place is that it's smoke-filled (at least until the new ordinance kicks in), so I took a shower when I got home, even though it was nearly midnight. C doesn't particularly like sleeping next to an ashtray, and I don't particularly like waking up and smelling it in my hair. All in all, a lovely day.
But why haven't I been writing for you every day? Well, Tuesday I actually did the few fragments of Christmas shopping I can afford to do this year (the nephews, the Kid, my yoga teacher, and an old friend in Philadelphia), and then played handball. Plus, during daylight hours--few though they are this week--I'm trying to finish the needlepoint that's 10 years overdue. I think I can do it, too, in which case I'll take a picture of it for you.
On Sunday, my yoga teacher suggested we each take some time and think about the past year, because most people think they haven't done anything until they think about it. While some people certainly got married this year, few got married for the first time at my age (I've seen the stats on this, and, as with so many other things, I'm more than two standard deviations from the mean), and most people probably didn't throw it all away to become a pastry chef. So what did I do this year? The usual, more or less, for me.
Okay, sun's up, time for more needlepoint.
But why haven't I been writing for you every day? Well, Tuesday I actually did the few fragments of Christmas shopping I can afford to do this year (the nephews, the Kid, my yoga teacher, and an old friend in Philadelphia), and then played handball. Plus, during daylight hours--few though they are this week--I'm trying to finish the needlepoint that's 10 years overdue. I think I can do it, too, in which case I'll take a picture of it for you.
On Sunday, my yoga teacher suggested we each take some time and think about the past year, because most people think they haven't done anything until they think about it. While some people certainly got married this year, few got married for the first time at my age (I've seen the stats on this, and, as with so many other things, I'm more than two standard deviations from the mean), and most people probably didn't throw it all away to become a pastry chef. So what did I do this year? The usual, more or less, for me.
Okay, sun's up, time for more needlepoint.
I, Too, Blame the Patriarchy
Before I forget, I had a rant I wanted to share, about this article. Here are some choice quotes:
Could it be that "television producers are [still!] obsessed with developing shows that can capture the attention of young male viewers"? Well, yes, that's certainly part of it--men between 18 and 49 are regarded as the holy grail of viewers. They're the ones with the money, the argument goes, and that makes them much more attractive to advertisers, and, of course, it's advertisers who run this particular part of the world. If you pull in that demographic, then you will get higher ad rates for your show. Yes, it's true, that thinking makes me crazy, but that's not what set me off about the article.
Here's the thing: the murdering, animalistic, morally ambiguous men that male-oriented TV programs want to present, in order to get the cherished viewing demographic, are apparently reacting to this stifling, bureaucratic, world, one that "constantly defies" the urge to be powerful and effective. But who built the institutions that stifle all that power and effectiveness? Who built the bureaucracies? Who made the rules? Was it some alien species? Was it women? Was it some meanie who doesn't want men to have any fun? Hmmm; no. It was men! Mostly men between 18 and 49, for that matter.
Really, it gets back to one of the corollaries to my feminism--that the patriarchy oppresses men, too. It's true that men benefit from the patriarchy in ways that women simply do not (see twisty, at her new site, for a lovely explication of patriarchy), but it's no picnic for men, either, especially if the sex roles to which the patriarchy assigns them don't fit particularly comfortably. Men benefit more, and they're oppressed less--which is why it's called a "patriarchy"--but it's not the system that most of the men with whom I'm friends would choose, and many of them fight it, in their own ways, as much as they can.
So anyway--I wanted to share that annoyance with you before (a) the linkability disappeared behind the paywall of the NYT, and (b) graduation. Which is today, in case you haven't been following along below.
Gary A. Randall . . . said the proliferation of antisocial protagonists came from a concerted effort by networks to channel the frustrations of modern men.What, you may ask, annoys me most about this?
"It's about comprehending from an entertainment point of view that men are living a very complex conundrum today," he said. "We're supposed to be sensitive and evolved and yet still in touch with our Neanderthal, animalistic, macho side." Watching a deeply flawed male character who nevertheless prevails, Mr. Randall argued, makes men feel better about their own flaws and internal conflicts. . . . The most popular male leads of today stand in stark contrast to the unambiguously moral protagonists of the past, good guys like Magnum, Matlock or Barnaby Jones. They are also not simply flawed in the classic sense: men who have the occasional affair or who tip the bottle a little too much. Instead they are unapologetic about killing, stealing, hoarding and beating their way to achieve personal goals that often conflict with the greed, apathy and of course the bureaucracies of the modern world.
"These kinds of characters are so satisfying to male viewers because culture has told them to be powerful and effective and to get things done, and at the same time they're living, operating and working in places that are constantly defying that," said Robert Thompson, the director of the Center for the Study of Popular Television at Syracuse University.
Could it be that "television producers are [still!] obsessed with developing shows that can capture the attention of young male viewers"? Well, yes, that's certainly part of it--men between 18 and 49 are regarded as the holy grail of viewers. They're the ones with the money, the argument goes, and that makes them much more attractive to advertisers, and, of course, it's advertisers who run this particular part of the world. If you pull in that demographic, then you will get higher ad rates for your show. Yes, it's true, that thinking makes me crazy, but that's not what set me off about the article.
Here's the thing: the murdering, animalistic, morally ambiguous men that male-oriented TV programs want to present, in order to get the cherished viewing demographic, are apparently reacting to this stifling, bureaucratic, world, one that "constantly defies" the urge to be powerful and effective. But who built the institutions that stifle all that power and effectiveness? Who built the bureaucracies? Who made the rules? Was it some alien species? Was it women? Was it some meanie who doesn't want men to have any fun? Hmmm; no. It was men! Mostly men between 18 and 49, for that matter.
Really, it gets back to one of the corollaries to my feminism--that the patriarchy oppresses men, too. It's true that men benefit from the patriarchy in ways that women simply do not (see twisty, at her new site, for a lovely explication of patriarchy), but it's no picnic for men, either, especially if the sex roles to which the patriarchy assigns them don't fit particularly comfortably. Men benefit more, and they're oppressed less--which is why it's called a "patriarchy"--but it's not the system that most of the men with whom I'm friends would choose, and many of them fight it, in their own ways, as much as they can.
So anyway--I wanted to share that annoyance with you before (a) the linkability disappeared behind the paywall of the NYT, and (b) graduation. Which is today, in case you haven't been following along below.
The Last Day
We cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned, and then we cleaned some more. Ovens, walls, bins, boxes, sheet pans, trays, you name it, we probably cleaned it--if we didn't, then the afternoon class did. And then the chefs brought us some pizza, which was nice, though it hasn't been sitting well in my stomach. I'd intended to play handball today--really, truly--but we know with what the road to hell is paved. I did manage to clean my desk and do the laundry, neither of which were small tasks, and I included the kitchen rug in my laundry, so I feel semi-virtuous. (If I'd managed the sheets as well I'd feel completely virtuous, but stripping the bed was beyond my capacities.) I'm just really, really, tired out--and looking forward to not getting up at 4 am tomorrow, for the first time in six months.
We'll do the grocery shopping tomorrow morning first thing, then maybe I can talk C into doing some cleaning with me before we head to the graduation ceremony. After that, I'll be heading out for more beverages with J and B, and possibly S, but not with C. Why is my husband not joining us, you ask? Because tomorrow is Pack Night for the Kid's Scout troop. I was somewhat less than thrilled to hear that last night, but C was damned if he did and damned if he didn't, number one, and, number two, I'm supposedly the grownup, i.e., the person who should be able to understand why he has to be somewhere else. Or, at least, I should be able to understand it better than the Kid. And I do, but I have to say that this scouting thing is getting on my last fucking nerve. It's at least two weekends a month with one thing or another, plus every other Wednesday, plus there's buying and selling of crap (I hate that fundraising shit--I really, really, really hate it, and I pretty much always politely refuse to buy anything when someone sells their kid's shit at work). I suppose that's all well and good if everyone lives in the same neighborhood and has two parents at home and so on, but that would not be the Kid's life, and I doubt he's alone. So, instead, C ends up shlepping all the damned time, not least because he's one of the Scout leaders. That last part is somewhat amusing, in that C is about as much of a deist as I am, and the BSA really rather frowns on atheism. (Apparently some of the parents have their panties in a wad because the other/primary scout leader Isn't Catholic; little do they know. In more ways than one.) I have my own objections to BSA as an organization--the deism thing, the homophobia, the girls-are-icky implications of the whole thing--and I've not been terribly impressed with the things the kids do for merit badges; "undemanding" would not be a harsh description. But I don't see the point of fighting about it; the Kid likes it, all of his friends are doing it, and he needs opportunities to play with other kids, and that all trumps my own reservations. But the demands on the kids' time--and, by extension, the parents' time, or, at least, the time of the parents who are actually involved in the organization, like C--is a bit much.
Anyway. I'm less than a day away from finishing pastry school, and I haven't regretted it in the least. Even more than when I started, l think it was exactly the kind of program I wanted and needed, i.e., one that would introduce me to the basics, in a short, intensive period, with the most highly skilled chefs as teachers. It's been an interesting year, that's for sure.
We'll do the grocery shopping tomorrow morning first thing, then maybe I can talk C into doing some cleaning with me before we head to the graduation ceremony. After that, I'll be heading out for more beverages with J and B, and possibly S, but not with C. Why is my husband not joining us, you ask? Because tomorrow is Pack Night for the Kid's Scout troop. I was somewhat less than thrilled to hear that last night, but C was damned if he did and damned if he didn't, number one, and, number two, I'm supposedly the grownup, i.e., the person who should be able to understand why he has to be somewhere else. Or, at least, I should be able to understand it better than the Kid. And I do, but I have to say that this scouting thing is getting on my last fucking nerve. It's at least two weekends a month with one thing or another, plus every other Wednesday, plus there's buying and selling of crap (I hate that fundraising shit--I really, really, really hate it, and I pretty much always politely refuse to buy anything when someone sells their kid's shit at work). I suppose that's all well and good if everyone lives in the same neighborhood and has two parents at home and so on, but that would not be the Kid's life, and I doubt he's alone. So, instead, C ends up shlepping all the damned time, not least because he's one of the Scout leaders. That last part is somewhat amusing, in that C is about as much of a deist as I am, and the BSA really rather frowns on atheism. (Apparently some of the parents have their panties in a wad because the other/primary scout leader Isn't Catholic; little do they know. In more ways than one.) I have my own objections to BSA as an organization--the deism thing, the homophobia, the girls-are-icky implications of the whole thing--and I've not been terribly impressed with the things the kids do for merit badges; "undemanding" would not be a harsh description. But I don't see the point of fighting about it; the Kid likes it, all of his friends are doing it, and he needs opportunities to play with other kids, and that all trumps my own reservations. But the demands on the kids' time--and, by extension, the parents' time, or, at least, the time of the parents who are actually involved in the organization, like C--is a bit much.
Anyway. I'm less than a day away from finishing pastry school, and I haven't regretted it in the least. Even more than when I started, l think it was exactly the kind of program I wanted and needed, i.e., one that would introduce me to the basics, in a short, intensive period, with the most highly skilled chefs as teachers. It's been an interesting year, that's for sure.
It's Not My Job
I've already decided that I'm not going to hire, or will fire, anyone who says that. The rule in the classroom kitchen is supposed to be that no one leaves until all of the cleaning is done. The people mopping the floor tend to shoo everyone out about ten minutes before noon so the mopping can be completed without footprints or an injury. In addition, the chefs haven't really enforced that rule. Still, there are several people who practically race for the door at the end of class--they rarely, if ever, lend a hand with the mopping (only one team of two people is assigned to mopping in the downstairs kitchen where we've spent two thirds of our time; upstairs, four people are assigned to it), they don't always do all of their own assigned tasks, and/or they don't pitch in all that much with other tasks. A couple of people always seem to be fussing with their stuff at the last minute--wrapping products, putting away tools, whatever--nearly every day (all of us get behind once in awhile, but a few people always seem to be behind in that way; to be fair, some seem to go clean for awhile and then get back to their stuff, but not everyone). Other people pitch in pretty frequently, doing the needful--I've probably mopped the floors on days when it wasn't my assignment at least 20 times (at least once a week, and often more than that); others routinely lend a hand at the dish sink or wipe down the freezers or help with the trash.
This week has been a little unusual. One person has left already, to get back to her business, which is entering its busiest season. A second person injured herself very badly last week with hot sugar. A third person has been battling some kind of severe gut inflammation, such that she did her exams this week instead of last week. Today, a fourth person didn't show up. We didn't have a lot of cleaning today, because we've mostly been finishing up the things we're serving on Friday (I finished sugar cages and did some sugar curls; other people were dipping chocolate for fucking ever; others were finishing other bits, except for the garnishes). As we finished up, we chatted with the chef for a few minutes, then I asked who was doing the mopping today--I mopped yesterday and Monday, and I really didn't feel like doing it again today, but the task was assigned to two of the people in the above litany and therefore had to be done by someone else. Of course, two people had already left the kitchen, despite the above-mentioned rule, and one of them was the person who said, in the locker room, that it wasn't her job and that she was doing other people's jobs around the kitchen.
Okay, fine, but you know what? The jobs weren't all done. We were short four people today, which meant at least two teams' worth of jobs weren't being done, most especially the mopping. Did it maybe occur to you to check and see what else needed to be done before you hightailed it out of there? No? Then why would I want to hire you? Because someone who doesn't bother to check on things is someone who's going to cost you money, in ruined product, in someone else's overtime, or in some other way. I realize I'll likely assign certain oversight functions so everyone isn't checking everything--that's wasteful, too--but our cleaning is designed to be self-managed; the chefs get on us if we do it badly, but they don't oversee the actual doing.
Most of tomorrow morning is supposed to be spent doing a massive cleaning of the kitchen (while still leaving some of that for the afternoon class, who will be using the kitchen tomorrow afternoon). One of my classmates has threatened to call anyone who calls in sick tomorrow and harass him or her. If we all come in and work together, we can knock it out in no time and get out of there early. I don't want to get all fuzzy and rose-colored, but working hard and together really does produce results.
This week has been a little unusual. One person has left already, to get back to her business, which is entering its busiest season. A second person injured herself very badly last week with hot sugar. A third person has been battling some kind of severe gut inflammation, such that she did her exams this week instead of last week. Today, a fourth person didn't show up. We didn't have a lot of cleaning today, because we've mostly been finishing up the things we're serving on Friday (I finished sugar cages and did some sugar curls; other people were dipping chocolate for fucking ever; others were finishing other bits, except for the garnishes). As we finished up, we chatted with the chef for a few minutes, then I asked who was doing the mopping today--I mopped yesterday and Monday, and I really didn't feel like doing it again today, but the task was assigned to two of the people in the above litany and therefore had to be done by someone else. Of course, two people had already left the kitchen, despite the above-mentioned rule, and one of them was the person who said, in the locker room, that it wasn't her job and that she was doing other people's jobs around the kitchen.
Okay, fine, but you know what? The jobs weren't all done. We were short four people today, which meant at least two teams' worth of jobs weren't being done, most especially the mopping. Did it maybe occur to you to check and see what else needed to be done before you hightailed it out of there? No? Then why would I want to hire you? Because someone who doesn't bother to check on things is someone who's going to cost you money, in ruined product, in someone else's overtime, or in some other way. I realize I'll likely assign certain oversight functions so everyone isn't checking everything--that's wasteful, too--but our cleaning is designed to be self-managed; the chefs get on us if we do it badly, but they don't oversee the actual doing.
Most of tomorrow morning is supposed to be spent doing a massive cleaning of the kitchen (while still leaving some of that for the afternoon class, who will be using the kitchen tomorrow afternoon). One of my classmates has threatened to call anyone who calls in sick tomorrow and harass him or her. If we all come in and work together, we can knock it out in no time and get out of there early. I don't want to get all fuzzy and rose-colored, but working hard and together really does produce results.
Funny how?
The good news is that my exam is over. The better news is that it even went reasonably well, except for one thing that went horribly wrong. The lemon meringue tart was lovely, as was the creme brulee (no, I don't have pictures; I forgot my camera). The souffle wasn't terrible, but it was a little underfolded and so didn't rise perfectly. The paper cone was fine. The ice cream bombe was okay--could have been nicer, but it was acceptable, I think. The World Cup Cake was going swimmingly--all of the components came out well, it merely needed some chocolate mirror glaze on top.
The glaze must have a certain consistency so it runs over the cake but doesn't completely run off the whole cake and leave naked spots along the edge; it also must be a certain temperature, or it will melt the chocolate mousse. I made my glaze yesterday and reheated it today. I got impatient and tried to put it on the first cake (the recipe makes two, and, even though we had to submit only one, I went ahead and made two, just in case something went wrong) before it had cooled sufficiently, and the result looked like a cake that had been hit by a car. Actually, that's a kind way of putting it, but we'll go with that.
I had more glaze, but paid no attention to the fact that, even though I cooled it down to the proper temperature, it was way, way too thick--it didn't coat the cake, it kind of glopped on top of the cake. It was . . . not pretty. I submitted it anyway, because I had no choice, but it was a disaster. Once the chef graded it (I shudder to think), I said, "Okay chef, now let me show you the other one." The chef and everyone in the class, including me, was laughing at my first effort. Our intern told me later that the cake made her day, because it was so funny. The chef overheard that comment and said that it was kind of a good thing, because some people are perfectionists, noticing teeny little flaws, whereas my cake would make them realize just how nice their cake was. One of my classmates took a picture of the really bad one, and, if I get a copy, I'll post it for you. One of my other classmates actually complimented me on my reaction (the aforementioned hysterical laughter)--when I looked puzzled (really, what else could you do but laugh at a disaster like that one?), he reminded me that we have classmates who would have broken down in tears or something. He's right, I guess, but it was just too funny. I also got a laugh out of my classmates later: the chef was telling us what we'll be making next week for the graduation buffet, then he said he'd need a couple of volunteers Friday morning to do some final touches on things, so I volunteered to glaze the cakes.
In any case, I'm nearly done with school--it's all over but the celebrating and the preparation therefor. We're having a get-together on Sunday, mostly to celebrate our intern (though she doesn't know that yet), at a local bar (we were going to do a pot luck at a classmate's apartment, but she's been sick for two weeks--she's doing her exams next week, even--so we decided not to make her entertain us). It's been fun--every single day.
One of the things that's been interesting for me is the seasonal aspect. I've taken the same bus every weekday except three or four for the last six months, and walked the same three blocks west, at the same time of day. When we started, it was hot and humid, and I had on light summer clothes. The past two weeks have been cold, sometimes bitter cold, and today there was snow on the ground (we got 6 or 7 inches last night). I tend to notice seasons, but this was a daily march through half of the calendar--much more so than in previous years, because, when I was working, I didn't necessarily take exactly the same bus, and it wasn't exactly the same time of day, and so on, so the impact was different somehow.
Anyway. The Kid and his father should be here soon, and I'm exhausted. The Kid is likely to be tired, too--his grandmother is in Paris, which meant he didn't do his homework last night at his grandparents' house (his grandfather isn't the disciplinarian that his grandmother is). Mom was delayed by the weather and didn't get there until 9:00, which meant the Kid was up until nearly 11 doing homework. I'm hoping Dad gave him a little lecture on taking responsibility for one's own homework, and for sure he's going to bed early tonight. As am I.
The glaze must have a certain consistency so it runs over the cake but doesn't completely run off the whole cake and leave naked spots along the edge; it also must be a certain temperature, or it will melt the chocolate mousse. I made my glaze yesterday and reheated it today. I got impatient and tried to put it on the first cake (the recipe makes two, and, even though we had to submit only one, I went ahead and made two, just in case something went wrong) before it had cooled sufficiently, and the result looked like a cake that had been hit by a car. Actually, that's a kind way of putting it, but we'll go with that.
I had more glaze, but paid no attention to the fact that, even though I cooled it down to the proper temperature, it was way, way too thick--it didn't coat the cake, it kind of glopped on top of the cake. It was . . . not pretty. I submitted it anyway, because I had no choice, but it was a disaster. Once the chef graded it (I shudder to think), I said, "Okay chef, now let me show you the other one." The chef and everyone in the class, including me, was laughing at my first effort. Our intern told me later that the cake made her day, because it was so funny. The chef overheard that comment and said that it was kind of a good thing, because some people are perfectionists, noticing teeny little flaws, whereas my cake would make them realize just how nice their cake was. One of my classmates took a picture of the really bad one, and, if I get a copy, I'll post it for you. One of my other classmates actually complimented me on my reaction (the aforementioned hysterical laughter)--when I looked puzzled (really, what else could you do but laugh at a disaster like that one?), he reminded me that we have classmates who would have broken down in tears or something. He's right, I guess, but it was just too funny. I also got a laugh out of my classmates later: the chef was telling us what we'll be making next week for the graduation buffet, then he said he'd need a couple of volunteers Friday morning to do some final touches on things, so I volunteered to glaze the cakes.
In any case, I'm nearly done with school--it's all over but the celebrating and the preparation therefor. We're having a get-together on Sunday, mostly to celebrate our intern (though she doesn't know that yet), at a local bar (we were going to do a pot luck at a classmate's apartment, but she's been sick for two weeks--she's doing her exams next week, even--so we decided not to make her entertain us). It's been fun--every single day.
One of the things that's been interesting for me is the seasonal aspect. I've taken the same bus every weekday except three or four for the last six months, and walked the same three blocks west, at the same time of day. When we started, it was hot and humid, and I had on light summer clothes. The past two weeks have been cold, sometimes bitter cold, and today there was snow on the ground (we got 6 or 7 inches last night). I tend to notice seasons, but this was a daily march through half of the calendar--much more so than in previous years, because, when I was working, I didn't necessarily take exactly the same bus, and it wasn't exactly the same time of day, and so on, so the impact was different somehow.
Anyway. The Kid and his father should be here soon, and I'm exhausted. The Kid is likely to be tired, too--his grandmother is in Paris, which meant he didn't do his homework last night at his grandparents' house (his grandfather isn't the disciplinarian that his grandmother is). Mom was delayed by the weather and didn't get there until 9:00, which meant the Kid was up until nearly 11 doing homework. I'm hoping Dad gave him a little lecture on taking responsibility for one's own homework, and for sure he's going to bed early tonight. As am I.
Gods? What gods?
I promised you a post on religion in the LOTR trilogy, and, after a really interesting post over at an expert's site in response to my female orcs question, I'm motivated to write it. (I know you people want to hear about pastry, and I promise you'll get an exam update at the end of this post--or you can just skip on ahead if this bores you.)
At least one person snorts derisively at the notion that there's no religion in LOTR, and he details the various deities and deity-like beings in the world that Tolkien created. (For a short version, go to the Encyclopedia of Arda and look up Iluvatar, i.e., the "Father of All," and maybe follow some of the links.) I don't quibble with that in the least. What has struck me, however, is that the characters in the trilogy do not practice a religion--we never once observe anyone going to any kind of church-like meeting, for example, or invoking a deity before doing something. Elrond doesn't ask for anyone's blessings before the Fellowship sets out. No deities get thanked when something works out well. There is no mention of morning or evening prayers--the closest we ever get to that is when Faramir and his men face the west before sitting down to eat (when Frodo and Sam are with them). The beings in Middle Earth have a variety of histories and talents, the normal age to which a given type of being lives varies, and some beings are immortal (Elves), but there aren't any deities that resemble the Jewish, Christian, Hindi, or Muslim god(s), and there are no practices invoking such a being. There are immortal and deity-like beings--the Valar--but they are not routinely mentioned or invoked, and, in fact, unless you rummage around in the appendices and the Silmarillion, you'd be hard-pressed to know much about them.
The other thing about this that stands out for me is that free will is explicit--most clearly when Gandalf tells Frodo (in the book, I think, though Merry or Pippin in the movie) that we can't choose the times in which we live, we can only choose what we do in the times into which we're born. That is, Gandalf recommends choosing a course of action that seems right and honorable, not (for example) presuming to discover what a deity wants you to do and then submitting oneself to the deity's will. (Rather Kantian of him, in some ways, I suppose.)
Tolkien was a devout Catholic, I believe (and, I think, was responsible for C. S. Lewis' conversion to that religion), and I think he regarded the trilogy as a religious work, in some sense of that word. One could easily argue that the trilogy is informed by--or, really, based on--a notion of good and evil, and, given the primacy of ents, the disgust with Saruman and his machines, and the glorification of the basic simplicity of hobbits, a certain crunchy-granola-organic approach to the world. Certainly the "good" beings regard themselves as stewards rather than owners of the land, and they take a quasi-Lockean approach (take what you need, while leaving enough and as good for everyone else) that avoids the tragedy of the commons. The "bad" beings pillage and destroy, often for the sake of being able to do so. Wanton destruction delights orcs and disgusts ents and hobbits and so on. However, a set of moral values does not a religion make. One can argue--and, of course, people argue to me all the time--that religion is somehow a necessary and/or sufficient condition for a moral system, but that's so patently false, in so many dimensions, that I'll only lay out the counterargument if someone really asks me to do so: religion is neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for a moral system. That, then, is where the question of religion in the trilogy really arises. The trilogy clearly has a moral system, and even a deity, in the sense of a creator, but there isn't anything resembling religious practice.
Yeah, you're saying, but what about exams? Things went reasonably well today, though, of course, not perfectly. The sablee dough fought me tooth and nail, but I finally managed to wrestle it into a tart shell and a disk (for the bottom of the ice cream bombe) and bake them both. Spinning my ice cream was fine, but filling the mold was a pain in the butt. The Cup Cake(s) are in the freezer and I think they'll be fine, too; I only have to present one, but the recipe makes two, and I saw no reason to waste the ingredients, and you never know when you're going to have a glazing accident. The creme brulee was also fine, I think, but, since I didn't get to make a sugar cage today, I won't know for sure until tomorrow when I present it. Tomorrow I have to make lemon curd for the tart, make meringue for the tart and then torch it, torch the brulee and put it in a cage, spray the bombe with cocoa butter, glaze the Cup Cake with the chocolate mirror glaze I made today, and bake a souffle. I will present everything tomorrow, too, including my paper cone, which is a tiny bit of a pain, especially for the chef, but I just didn't get to the cage today. Seriously, I have five hours to do everything I listed there, and I did a lot more than that today, so . . . On the other hand, shit can happen, so I'll only really be relieved once it's over. I'll also be relieved when I don't have to deal with my classmates' lackadaisical attitudes, too--not everyone, by any means, but a bunch of people just piled up dishes near the sink and . . . walked away. Some people don't do their dishes very often, so they pile up on their tables or speed racks and then that pile gets moved and not washed; those of us who make something then wash, then make something then wash, were getting perturbed today. Other people weren't doing their assigned jobs--some people because they were helping with the Mound O Dishes, but some people because, even after 24 weeks, have not figured out how to determine what their cleaning responsibilities are. And, of course, some people are just perpetually slow. Whatever--we're nearly done with it.
At least one person snorts derisively at the notion that there's no religion in LOTR, and he details the various deities and deity-like beings in the world that Tolkien created. (For a short version, go to the Encyclopedia of Arda and look up Iluvatar, i.e., the "Father of All," and maybe follow some of the links.) I don't quibble with that in the least. What has struck me, however, is that the characters in the trilogy do not practice a religion--we never once observe anyone going to any kind of church-like meeting, for example, or invoking a deity before doing something. Elrond doesn't ask for anyone's blessings before the Fellowship sets out. No deities get thanked when something works out well. There is no mention of morning or evening prayers--the closest we ever get to that is when Faramir and his men face the west before sitting down to eat (when Frodo and Sam are with them). The beings in Middle Earth have a variety of histories and talents, the normal age to which a given type of being lives varies, and some beings are immortal (Elves), but there aren't any deities that resemble the Jewish, Christian, Hindi, or Muslim god(s), and there are no practices invoking such a being. There are immortal and deity-like beings--the Valar--but they are not routinely mentioned or invoked, and, in fact, unless you rummage around in the appendices and the Silmarillion, you'd be hard-pressed to know much about them.
The other thing about this that stands out for me is that free will is explicit--most clearly when Gandalf tells Frodo (in the book, I think, though Merry or Pippin in the movie) that we can't choose the times in which we live, we can only choose what we do in the times into which we're born. That is, Gandalf recommends choosing a course of action that seems right and honorable, not (for example) presuming to discover what a deity wants you to do and then submitting oneself to the deity's will. (Rather Kantian of him, in some ways, I suppose.)
Tolkien was a devout Catholic, I believe (and, I think, was responsible for C. S. Lewis' conversion to that religion), and I think he regarded the trilogy as a religious work, in some sense of that word. One could easily argue that the trilogy is informed by--or, really, based on--a notion of good and evil, and, given the primacy of ents, the disgust with Saruman and his machines, and the glorification of the basic simplicity of hobbits, a certain crunchy-granola-organic approach to the world. Certainly the "good" beings regard themselves as stewards rather than owners of the land, and they take a quasi-Lockean approach (take what you need, while leaving enough and as good for everyone else) that avoids the tragedy of the commons. The "bad" beings pillage and destroy, often for the sake of being able to do so. Wanton destruction delights orcs and disgusts ents and hobbits and so on. However, a set of moral values does not a religion make. One can argue--and, of course, people argue to me all the time--that religion is somehow a necessary and/or sufficient condition for a moral system, but that's so patently false, in so many dimensions, that I'll only lay out the counterargument if someone really asks me to do so: religion is neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for a moral system. That, then, is where the question of religion in the trilogy really arises. The trilogy clearly has a moral system, and even a deity, in the sense of a creator, but there isn't anything resembling religious practice.
Yeah, you're saying, but what about exams? Things went reasonably well today, though, of course, not perfectly. The sablee dough fought me tooth and nail, but I finally managed to wrestle it into a tart shell and a disk (for the bottom of the ice cream bombe) and bake them both. Spinning my ice cream was fine, but filling the mold was a pain in the butt. The Cup Cake(s) are in the freezer and I think they'll be fine, too; I only have to present one, but the recipe makes two, and I saw no reason to waste the ingredients, and you never know when you're going to have a glazing accident. The creme brulee was also fine, I think, but, since I didn't get to make a sugar cage today, I won't know for sure until tomorrow when I present it. Tomorrow I have to make lemon curd for the tart, make meringue for the tart and then torch it, torch the brulee and put it in a cage, spray the bombe with cocoa butter, glaze the Cup Cake with the chocolate mirror glaze I made today, and bake a souffle. I will present everything tomorrow, too, including my paper cone, which is a tiny bit of a pain, especially for the chef, but I just didn't get to the cage today. Seriously, I have five hours to do everything I listed there, and I did a lot more than that today, so . . . On the other hand, shit can happen, so I'll only really be relieved once it's over. I'll also be relieved when I don't have to deal with my classmates' lackadaisical attitudes, too--not everyone, by any means, but a bunch of people just piled up dishes near the sink and . . . walked away. Some people don't do their dishes very often, so they pile up on their tables or speed racks and then that pile gets moved and not washed; those of us who make something then wash, then make something then wash, were getting perturbed today. Other people weren't doing their assigned jobs--some people because they were helping with the Mound O Dishes, but some people because, even after 24 weeks, have not figured out how to determine what their cleaning responsibilities are. And, of course, some people are just perpetually slow. Whatever--we're nearly done with it.
Cakes, Tarts, Ice Cream and Whatever
Most of us are in the "whatEVER" stage of this whole thing, though we're all diligently working away. By Friday I have to produce and present:
I think I did okay on the written exam--probably didn't ace it, but no matter (did I mention I have a job? because I do). Tomorrow is going to be a crank-a-thon, but, if tomorrow goes tolerably well, then Friday should be relatively breeze-like. We'll see whether I get done what I need to get done tomorrow. Some bits depend on my partner's cooperation. My previous two partners spoiled me quite a bit, in that they were organized, focused, and worked clean (i.e., they didn't leave messes in piles to clean up later). This partner doesn't work as clean, so sometimes it's a little more difficult to navigate. Add that to the fact that we have to share the equipment even more than in previous exams--because several items require using first the stove then the mixer, for example, so you can't just divide up between those two pieces of equipment--and it's not as easy to navigate. But, hey, two more days.
Several people have jobs; three have already started, a fourth will start the day before I do, a fifth has one of the internships at the school, and, we found out today, a sixth person got a tryout at Charlie Trotter's, which, given the long waiting list for such things, is a huge deal. She's really quite good, so I hope they have the sense to keep her, though it's unclear whether they're willing to pay her. A seventh person is starting her own business, an eighth already has her own business, a ninth is doing an internship with a cake decorator, and I'm not sure what everyone else is doing. I just wish I could invite you all to our graduation banquet next week! Both J and B are going to be there (as will C and possibly S, if I can score an extra ticket for him), so maybe I'll try to get guest posts out of them.
- 1 Hazelnut Chocolate Cake (a.k.a. World Cup Cake, or, as I like to call it, the cupcake), which includes chocolate biscuit, hazelnut dacquoise, caramelized hazelnuts, chocolate mousse, hazelnut mousse, pate a bombe for the two mousses, and a chocolate mirror glaze; today we all baked the biscuit, and I caramelized my hazelnuts;
- 1 Lemon Curd Tart with meringue decoration of our choice (I made the sablee dough for that today but it's resting in the refrigerator);
- 1 Ice Cream Bombe, which includes chocolate ice cream, raspberry coulis, parfait (cooked egg yolks & sugar, whipped, then combined with whipped cream), and a disk of sablee dough (I made the coulis and parfait and molded them as an insert, and I made the ice cream base and will spin the ice cream tomorrow);
- 1 classic French souffle (I'm baking mine on Friday, so I haven't done any more than write my labels for the scaling);
- 1 Passion Fruit Creme Brulee with a Sugar Cage and Mango Chip (I have to do this second thing tomorrow morning, as they all have to be baked by tomorrow);
- 1 paper cone
I think I did okay on the written exam--probably didn't ace it, but no matter (did I mention I have a job? because I do). Tomorrow is going to be a crank-a-thon, but, if tomorrow goes tolerably well, then Friday should be relatively breeze-like. We'll see whether I get done what I need to get done tomorrow. Some bits depend on my partner's cooperation. My previous two partners spoiled me quite a bit, in that they were organized, focused, and worked clean (i.e., they didn't leave messes in piles to clean up later). This partner doesn't work as clean, so sometimes it's a little more difficult to navigate. Add that to the fact that we have to share the equipment even more than in previous exams--because several items require using first the stove then the mixer, for example, so you can't just divide up between those two pieces of equipment--and it's not as easy to navigate. But, hey, two more days.
Several people have jobs; three have already started, a fourth will start the day before I do, a fifth has one of the internships at the school, and, we found out today, a sixth person got a tryout at Charlie Trotter's, which, given the long waiting list for such things, is a huge deal. She's really quite good, so I hope they have the sense to keep her, though it's unclear whether they're willing to pay her. A seventh person is starting her own business, an eighth already has her own business, a ninth is doing an internship with a cake decorator, and I'm not sure what everyone else is doing. I just wish I could invite you all to our graduation banquet next week! Both J and B are going to be there (as will C and possibly S, if I can score an extra ticket for him), so maybe I'll try to get guest posts out of them.
Are there female orcs? or: What counts as women's work in Middle Earth?
I am, once again, whining in my head, and I'm as tired of my own whining as I am of anyone else's. More, perhaps, not least because I can't get away from it; it also makes me extremely annoyed at myself, because it's just stupid shit. So, hey, I'll come whine to you guys! Or not.
You know what time of year it is, don't you? That's right--time to read LOTR. (I'm planning to spend some quality time with the movies and with my needlepoint after school's done, not least because I have two weeks in there before I start the new job.) This year's question: from where do all of the evil beings come? In the trilogy, they're all male, but apparently there's some speculation and notation in the Silmarillion that they reproduce, which implies females around somewhere. The Encyclopedia of Arda is also a useful reference on this and also speculates that they are "created" more than birthed. What's interesting to me about this (at least today) is that it fits in with the rest of the writings about females in the trilogy. I suspect there are many other more learned discussions out there about this subject, but I'm too lazy today to go find them, so you'll have to settle for my opinion--google females tolkien and rummage around if you're really interested in what other people have to say.
The trilogy is notably bereft of ordinary females. There are extraordinary ones around--Galadriel, Arwen, Eowyn, Goldberry--but no common women (and, of course, the whole Fellowship is male). I suppose you could argue that there are heroic males all over the place, too, but part of the charm of the trilogy, for me, is that the hobbits, at least, and arguably most of the other characters (except Gandalf, Aragorn, and possibly the various kings and leaders of men) are ordinary for their kind. They do great things, they act with courage and so on, but the story is about beings rising to the occasion, not about a Spiderman-like creature who comes in to save the day with his superpowers. The great powers that are displayed (e.g., by Gandalf) are part of his kind; he may be an exemplary version of his kind, but he doesn't have something the rest don't have. (You could argue that those are two distinct ways of telling heroic stories--someone becomes heroic by acquiring powers that others of his/her kind do not possess, or someone becomes heroic by utilizing ordinary powers heroically. One could additionally argue that this fits with John Adams' view that it is incumbent upon each of us to be the best persons we can be--to not waste our talents--and incumbent upon us as members of a community to create communities that encourage and enable people to develop their talents fully.)
So, then, where are the common women? What are they doing? Are their tasks--raising children, for example, or keeping the home fires burning--regarded as heroic? Aragorn and Theoden try to convince Eowyn of that--Theoden even puts his/her people under Eowyn's care in his absence--but Eowyn isn't convinced of the worth of that, and Gandalf acknowledges that when he points out that she has the heart of a warrior. In the movies, even, ordinary women are mostly running around in fear and gathering up children to go hide somewhere.
In one way, I never let this absence bother me much--I think that Frodo and Sam could as easily have been female as male, for example, and, if I were more ambitious, I'd attempt a retelling that does that. What seems to be the case, though, is that Tolkien's Catholicism (and its penchant for giving women a binary choice--madonna or whore) might have had some effect here, at least psychologically. It's also the case that there apparently isn't a lot of glory in tending the home fires--I would argue otherwise, in some ways, but only because I think there's a certain amount of glory in necessary tasks.
Perhaps one way to consider this is to ask what happens if one carries out one's tasks in an exemplary fashion, or merely does one's job reasonably well. For men--and not just men in the trilogy--there may be a lot of everyday tasks, and, in times of peace, for example, not a lot of opportunity for heroism; that is, men's everyday work may be every bit as boring as women's everyday work (and, of course, there are categories such as men's work and women's work only when work is gendered and divided in the ways we are told are "normal" or even "proper"--but I wrote half a book about that subject and won't excerpt it here). Sticking with the world of the trilogy, however, there isn't much opportunity for women to be heroic, unless they do "men's" work--i.e., unless they're Eowyn. And, of course, if all women were Eowyn, then a lot of childrearing and the like would remain undone. Here's another consideration: if women do what we think of as their jobs in an exemplary fashion, not only will they not have an opportunity to be heroic, it's also the case that some part of the job will end (i.e., as the children grow and become increasingly independent) and some other part of the job will merely repeat, with little concrete result. (Laundry is a striking example here: it's a task that must be repeated, endlessly, no matter how well one does the task the first time.) At least in jobs that can be considered careers there is some opportunity for advancement, say.
Anyway, I don't know how I got here, exactly, but that's enough for today. My last set of exams starts tomorrow and I have to remember the differences among Diplomats, Chibousts, Bavarians, and the like. I'll leave the discussion of Middle Earth and religion for another day.
You know what time of year it is, don't you? That's right--time to read LOTR. (I'm planning to spend some quality time with the movies and with my needlepoint after school's done, not least because I have two weeks in there before I start the new job.) This year's question: from where do all of the evil beings come? In the trilogy, they're all male, but apparently there's some speculation and notation in the Silmarillion that they reproduce, which implies females around somewhere. The Encyclopedia of Arda is also a useful reference on this and also speculates that they are "created" more than birthed. What's interesting to me about this (at least today) is that it fits in with the rest of the writings about females in the trilogy. I suspect there are many other more learned discussions out there about this subject, but I'm too lazy today to go find them, so you'll have to settle for my opinion--google females tolkien and rummage around if you're really interested in what other people have to say.
The trilogy is notably bereft of ordinary females. There are extraordinary ones around--Galadriel, Arwen, Eowyn, Goldberry--but no common women (and, of course, the whole Fellowship is male). I suppose you could argue that there are heroic males all over the place, too, but part of the charm of the trilogy, for me, is that the hobbits, at least, and arguably most of the other characters (except Gandalf, Aragorn, and possibly the various kings and leaders of men) are ordinary for their kind. They do great things, they act with courage and so on, but the story is about beings rising to the occasion, not about a Spiderman-like creature who comes in to save the day with his superpowers. The great powers that are displayed (e.g., by Gandalf) are part of his kind; he may be an exemplary version of his kind, but he doesn't have something the rest don't have. (You could argue that those are two distinct ways of telling heroic stories--someone becomes heroic by acquiring powers that others of his/her kind do not possess, or someone becomes heroic by utilizing ordinary powers heroically. One could additionally argue that this fits with John Adams' view that it is incumbent upon each of us to be the best persons we can be--to not waste our talents--and incumbent upon us as members of a community to create communities that encourage and enable people to develop their talents fully.)
So, then, where are the common women? What are they doing? Are their tasks--raising children, for example, or keeping the home fires burning--regarded as heroic? Aragorn and Theoden try to convince Eowyn of that--Theoden even puts his/her people under Eowyn's care in his absence--but Eowyn isn't convinced of the worth of that, and Gandalf acknowledges that when he points out that she has the heart of a warrior. In the movies, even, ordinary women are mostly running around in fear and gathering up children to go hide somewhere.
In one way, I never let this absence bother me much--I think that Frodo and Sam could as easily have been female as male, for example, and, if I were more ambitious, I'd attempt a retelling that does that. What seems to be the case, though, is that Tolkien's Catholicism (and its penchant for giving women a binary choice--madonna or whore) might have had some effect here, at least psychologically. It's also the case that there apparently isn't a lot of glory in tending the home fires--I would argue otherwise, in some ways, but only because I think there's a certain amount of glory in necessary tasks.
Perhaps one way to consider this is to ask what happens if one carries out one's tasks in an exemplary fashion, or merely does one's job reasonably well. For men--and not just men in the trilogy--there may be a lot of everyday tasks, and, in times of peace, for example, not a lot of opportunity for heroism; that is, men's everyday work may be every bit as boring as women's everyday work (and, of course, there are categories such as men's work and women's work only when work is gendered and divided in the ways we are told are "normal" or even "proper"--but I wrote half a book about that subject and won't excerpt it here). Sticking with the world of the trilogy, however, there isn't much opportunity for women to be heroic, unless they do "men's" work--i.e., unless they're Eowyn. And, of course, if all women were Eowyn, then a lot of childrearing and the like would remain undone. Here's another consideration: if women do what we think of as their jobs in an exemplary fashion, not only will they not have an opportunity to be heroic, it's also the case that some part of the job will end (i.e., as the children grow and become increasingly independent) and some other part of the job will merely repeat, with little concrete result. (Laundry is a striking example here: it's a task that must be repeated, endlessly, no matter how well one does the task the first time.) At least in jobs that can be considered careers there is some opportunity for advancement, say.
Anyway, I don't know how I got here, exactly, but that's enough for today. My last set of exams starts tomorrow and I have to remember the differences among Diplomats, Chibousts, Bavarians, and the like. I'll leave the discussion of Middle Earth and religion for another day.
Income(ing)
So I'm sitting around here on Friday, writing a cranky blog post, and the phone rings and it's K, telling me he wants me to start on January 3rd. (I'm still going to try to collect unemployment for the intervening five weeks, however.) I'll apparently be doing laminated doughs rather than cake decorating, which is more than fine with me. After I've been there a week he'll decide what to pay me, which is also fine (that's pretty much how they do things in the food business). I start at 7 am, which, if I work an actual 8-hour shift (i.e., I work 8 hours and get paid for 8 hours, rather than another trick in the food business where you work about 12 hours but get paid for 8), then I'll even get off in time to continue playing handball. He pointed out that I would be making considerably less than in my current position, and I told him I knew that and didn't care. (I'll probably make about 20% to 25% of my current salary, with little or no paid time off--I'm now eligible for four weeks paid vacation.) It's not going to be enough for C and I to have many luxuries (or even really make ends meet completely), but I'm going to start doing some stuff for C's sister's store, and maybe some other unrelated something on the side (that means you, kStyle), and we should be okay, so long as he can find a job.
When Chef Bob came through our kitchen today I thanked him. He congratulated me and gave me a hug, and everyone was pleased (not as pleased as I am, but, hey, that's to be expected). I don't have to tell you what a relief it is.
I do have to relate the stupidest comment I heard today. I was at the unemployment office, filing some kind of statement of wages (I brought my W2 and pay stubs and so on), and the person w/ whom I was dealing tells me, practically over her shoulder as she's walking away from me, that I need to make sure my employer reports my wages. Um, yeah, I'll see what I can do about that. She was the first stupid/sullen person I met in this process, but it was pretty annoying. It did make me all the more determined to get my unemployment compensation, however.
When Chef Bob came through our kitchen today I thanked him. He congratulated me and gave me a hug, and everyone was pleased (not as pleased as I am, but, hey, that's to be expected). I don't have to tell you what a relief it is.
I do have to relate the stupidest comment I heard today. I was at the unemployment office, filing some kind of statement of wages (I brought my W2 and pay stubs and so on), and the person w/ whom I was dealing tells me, practically over her shoulder as she's walking away from me, that I need to make sure my employer reports my wages. Um, yeah, I'll see what I can do about that. She was the first stupid/sullen person I met in this process, but it was pretty annoying. It did make me all the more determined to get my unemployment compensation, however.
Cross-Eyed and Painless
You may remember the chorus to the song by that name:
I'm kind of mad at myself today. Even my classmates noted that I was not my usual self, at least not by the end of the day. I attribute my crankiness in part to the aforementioned waiting: I hate it, as does everyone else, of course. I think that was only a small part of it, though. A second, much larger, part was the fact that we were doing chocolate showpieces today. I've mentioned before how I don't do well at them, though I suspect I'd get better with some practice. Today's was, indeed, somewhat better than the last attempt, although one of the things I wanted very much to do simply didn't work out, mostly because I didn't think it through and fucked it up. If I had thought about it for five more goddamned minutes and done it right, I could have executed the theme I wanted to execute, or, at least, come closer; as it was, I had to abandon it. I did execute the flower (everyone had to use a heart mold and include one flower, and my previous attempts at flowers were just heinously bad, so the fact that I did one today successfully was a huge improvement, and when I stop being such a baby, I'll be glad of that). A second issue with the sculptures was that I felt like I spent half the fucking day waiting for someone to finish with some piece of equipment I needed in order to do the next thing. Meanwhile, people weren't cleaning up after themselves, and that, in combination with the equipment-waiting, was just irritating. Third, several people in the class were getting on my last goddamned nerve. When school is over I'll tell you more about my classmates, but suffice it to say that there are a couple of people who annoy nearly everyone. (That aspect--that everyone agrees--is really interesting to me, on many levels, but the annoyance factor was paramount today.) It's also the case that there are several people who simply do not pull their weight when it comes to cleaning, and I'm just tired of that. Finally, though, it was frustrating to be working hard on something knowing that I'd be lucky if I managed to complete something that was even marginally competent, even as several people around me were executing much better, and much more complicated, pieces. I had to fight the "why bother?" impulse all day, and I had to fight my resentment about the aforementioned better pieces. Actually, I was most annoyed at myself for that resentment--it's a fucking chocolate sculpture, fer chrissakes; get over yourself!
And, may I say, I totally called the delay in the funding for my old job: The prospective investors have apparently decided, at this very late date, that they don't like the size of the company's debt load. I don't know what took them so long to reach that conclusion--it's not like the size of the debt has been a secret, and I feel like they've kind of been dealing with us in bad faith, given how far along the negotiations apparently had come. Nevertheless, the president has apparently been scrambling to come up with a Plan R (we're well past Plan B or Plan C), which is going about as well as you might imagine. My application for unemployment apparently also lit a fire, as she's now sent in a bunch of payments for back unemployment taxes and so on--which is all well and good, but doesn't uncomplicate the process all that much for me. I still have to shlep to a really shitty part of the city, on a fucking bus, and hope that she sent in what she said she did, and that they have it, and so on.
So, really, my mood isn't all that great today. A job offer, followed by several beers, would improve things significantly. Failing the former, however, I'll settle for the latter.
Update: I start my new job on January 3rd. And there was great rejoicing . . .
I’m still waiting...I’m still waiting...I’m still waiting...I've tried staring at the phone, but it turns out that watched phones don't perform any better than do watched pots. Chef Bob said he'd shoot K an email and ask how things went (I dearly love Chef Bob, I must say). In lieu of actually writing a Friday Song post, I'll add that I quoted a large part of the lyrics to this song in my qualifying paper for grad school--the part about facts near the end of the song.
I’m still waiting...I’m still waiting...I’m still waiting...
I’m still waiting...I’m still waiting...
I'm kind of mad at myself today. Even my classmates noted that I was not my usual self, at least not by the end of the day. I attribute my crankiness in part to the aforementioned waiting: I hate it, as does everyone else, of course. I think that was only a small part of it, though. A second, much larger, part was the fact that we were doing chocolate showpieces today. I've mentioned before how I don't do well at them, though I suspect I'd get better with some practice. Today's was, indeed, somewhat better than the last attempt, although one of the things I wanted very much to do simply didn't work out, mostly because I didn't think it through and fucked it up. If I had thought about it for five more goddamned minutes and done it right, I could have executed the theme I wanted to execute, or, at least, come closer; as it was, I had to abandon it. I did execute the flower (everyone had to use a heart mold and include one flower, and my previous attempts at flowers were just heinously bad, so the fact that I did one today successfully was a huge improvement, and when I stop being such a baby, I'll be glad of that). A second issue with the sculptures was that I felt like I spent half the fucking day waiting for someone to finish with some piece of equipment I needed in order to do the next thing. Meanwhile, people weren't cleaning up after themselves, and that, in combination with the equipment-waiting, was just irritating. Third, several people in the class were getting on my last goddamned nerve. When school is over I'll tell you more about my classmates, but suffice it to say that there are a couple of people who annoy nearly everyone. (That aspect--that everyone agrees--is really interesting to me, on many levels, but the annoyance factor was paramount today.) It's also the case that there are several people who simply do not pull their weight when it comes to cleaning, and I'm just tired of that. Finally, though, it was frustrating to be working hard on something knowing that I'd be lucky if I managed to complete something that was even marginally competent, even as several people around me were executing much better, and much more complicated, pieces. I had to fight the "why bother?" impulse all day, and I had to fight my resentment about the aforementioned better pieces. Actually, I was most annoyed at myself for that resentment--it's a fucking chocolate sculpture, fer chrissakes; get over yourself!
And, may I say, I totally called the delay in the funding for my old job: The prospective investors have apparently decided, at this very late date, that they don't like the size of the company's debt load. I don't know what took them so long to reach that conclusion--it's not like the size of the debt has been a secret, and I feel like they've kind of been dealing with us in bad faith, given how far along the negotiations apparently had come. Nevertheless, the president has apparently been scrambling to come up with a Plan R (we're well past Plan B or Plan C), which is going about as well as you might imagine. My application for unemployment apparently also lit a fire, as she's now sent in a bunch of payments for back unemployment taxes and so on--which is all well and good, but doesn't uncomplicate the process all that much for me. I still have to shlep to a really shitty part of the city, on a fucking bus, and hope that she sent in what she said she did, and that they have it, and so on.
So, really, my mood isn't all that great today. A job offer, followed by several beers, would improve things significantly. Failing the former, however, I'll settle for the latter.
Update: I start my new job on January 3rd. And there was great rejoicing . . .
Baby You Can Frost My Cake
So, yes, I went and interviewed for a job in a bakery today. I'll find out later this week whether they'll hire me, or take me on as an intern, or whatever (I didn't even ask about pay). They need help decorating cakes right now--before I could tell him I suck at that, he saw the look on my face and said that I didn't need to know how to do any of it. I said that's good, because my piping skills are in their infancy (in the interests of full disclosure), and he didn't seem the least bit taken aback by that. There's apparently not much call for bread in the winter--they sell a lot more in the summer, at the farmers' markets. The guy who's doing their laminated doughs (i.e., croissants) might be moving to the decorating thing, so I said hey, I'll do laminated doughs, no problem. One thing made me feel really good: he (let's call him K) said that Chef Bob only sends people to the shop that Chef Bob thinks would fit in with the place, that K has called Chef Bob and said "Hey, do you have anyone for me?" and Chef Bob has said, "Not in this group." It was really interesting: It was clear that Chef Bob's recommendation carried a lot of weight. Which makes it all the more cool that Chef Bob sent me there. K knows his shit: he's a master baker, and he runs a successful business. He knows some of the things I need to know--a lot of them.
In other news, I need to decide within the next 24 hours whether to do the nougat for the in-laws' store; they're putting their newsletter together, and it can feature the nougat if I want it to do so. I sent an email to an insurance agent I know, and I'll check with the chef tomorrow about why my nougat was so goopy. I guess I'm going to try to do this . . .
Today's plated desserts: poached pears with hazelnut financier and hazelnut ice cream (quite tasty); panna cotta with berries; and red-wine-poached plums with a little linzer cake (the cake was good, the plums not so much), spice ice cream, and florentine tuile (no, no spinach in it). I figured out what I don't like about these things (or maybe I told you guys this already). Basically, I've never done plated desserts before, so I really kind of suck at it. Could I get better at it? Yeah, probably--but not in two weeks. It's like wedding cakes and chocolate sculptures that way: I could get better at it with practice, but my complete and total lack of skill right now is completely demoralizing.
The job interview, on the other hand, was less demoralizing. Waiting to hear from him will be a challenge, but I'll keep busy with the plans for the nougat.
In other news, I need to decide within the next 24 hours whether to do the nougat for the in-laws' store; they're putting their newsletter together, and it can feature the nougat if I want it to do so. I sent an email to an insurance agent I know, and I'll check with the chef tomorrow about why my nougat was so goopy. I guess I'm going to try to do this . . .
Today's plated desserts: poached pears with hazelnut financier and hazelnut ice cream (quite tasty); panna cotta with berries; and red-wine-poached plums with a little linzer cake (the cake was good, the plums not so much), spice ice cream, and florentine tuile (no, no spinach in it). I figured out what I don't like about these things (or maybe I told you guys this already). Basically, I've never done plated desserts before, so I really kind of suck at it. Could I get better at it? Yeah, probably--but not in two weeks. It's like wedding cakes and chocolate sculptures that way: I could get better at it with practice, but my complete and total lack of skill right now is completely demoralizing.
The job interview, on the other hand, was less demoralizing. Waiting to hear from him will be a challenge, but I'll keep busy with the plans for the nougat.
Chew on This
So tomorrow after school's out I hop on the train and head to a bakery where I want to work. The owner had told me to call after the holidays; I called this afternoon and he suggested I come up to see the place. No idea what'll happen. I suspect he's a face-to-face kind of person, given that he and I were on the phone for maybe a minute. That's fine with me; I'm pretty face-to-face (or in your face, as the case may be) myself. I want them to like me, and I want to like them, too.
When I'm faced with decisions or problems, I tend to chew them over for awhile. I want to make sure I've taken into account as many details as possible, and the chewing tends to help me sort things by level of importance, or even by spectrum of importance (i.e., some things may be important on one spectrum but not on another). When another person is affected by or involved in the decision, I have a tendency to present a variety of solutions (this tendency of mine even made it into our wedding vows, much to the amusement of our guests). In order for this to be productive, however, there's a certain minimum of information that must be in my possession, otherwise it's just stress-inducing and non-productive. The general question facing me and C is what we're going to "do." This includes deciding whether to move when our lease is up at the end of July, deciding to where to move, figuring out what we can afford to do, both now and later, without knowing what the household finances will look like, etc. I realized yesterday that we simply do not have enough information to solve any of the current equations, much less all of them simultaneously (or even sequentially).
At minimum, we need to know whether C will find a job and where; whether I'll find a job and where; whether he'll be able to collect his severance; whether I'm going to continue working part-time at the old place (which I'd do if they paid me--it's too much money to just walk away from it, number one, and, number two, they're more likely to pay me the back pay they owe me if I'm a current employee); whether I'm going to get any of my back pay, and, if so, when; and so on. Given this set of uncertainties, worrying about where we'll end up moving--in August, mind you--is a bit premature. Of course, I can worry about the intermediate steps, in the meantime (like finding a job). Luckily, I get bored with this after awhile and stop; at least some parts of my brain recognize that there's no point in worrying about any of this.
I really should be working on some other things, like making nougat for my in-laws' store to sell in time for the holidays, or registering a domain name, or filing a DBA and getting a tax ID, or like getting the liability insurance I need in order to make and sell said nougat, or even like writing a long-overdue thank you note. But worrying really takes much less effort.
Today we plated Still! More! Desserts! Warm chocolate cake with coffee ice cream, and grapefruit and orange segments with grapefruit tuile and peach sorbet (supposed to be honey ice cream, but we ran out), to be exact. We also made some spiced tuile, poached pears, panna cotta, and poached plums, all of which we'll use tomorrow for, yes, more plated desserts. If we get a day ahead the way the chef plans, we'll have time to do a little chocolate sculpture competition; I'll try to remember my camera.
What I really want is a salad--i.e., something that is not dessert, plated or otherwise. And some exercise: haven't had any of that in way too long. There's some talk in my head of going down to the basement and getting on a machine, but I might be able to talk myself out of it.
When I'm faced with decisions or problems, I tend to chew them over for awhile. I want to make sure I've taken into account as many details as possible, and the chewing tends to help me sort things by level of importance, or even by spectrum of importance (i.e., some things may be important on one spectrum but not on another). When another person is affected by or involved in the decision, I have a tendency to present a variety of solutions (this tendency of mine even made it into our wedding vows, much to the amusement of our guests). In order for this to be productive, however, there's a certain minimum of information that must be in my possession, otherwise it's just stress-inducing and non-productive. The general question facing me and C is what we're going to "do." This includes deciding whether to move when our lease is up at the end of July, deciding to where to move, figuring out what we can afford to do, both now and later, without knowing what the household finances will look like, etc. I realized yesterday that we simply do not have enough information to solve any of the current equations, much less all of them simultaneously (or even sequentially).
At minimum, we need to know whether C will find a job and where; whether I'll find a job and where; whether he'll be able to collect his severance; whether I'm going to continue working part-time at the old place (which I'd do if they paid me--it's too much money to just walk away from it, number one, and, number two, they're more likely to pay me the back pay they owe me if I'm a current employee); whether I'm going to get any of my back pay, and, if so, when; and so on. Given this set of uncertainties, worrying about where we'll end up moving--in August, mind you--is a bit premature. Of course, I can worry about the intermediate steps, in the meantime (like finding a job). Luckily, I get bored with this after awhile and stop; at least some parts of my brain recognize that there's no point in worrying about any of this.
I really should be working on some other things, like making nougat for my in-laws' store to sell in time for the holidays, or registering a domain name, or filing a DBA and getting a tax ID, or like getting the liability insurance I need in order to make and sell said nougat, or even like writing a long-overdue thank you note. But worrying really takes much less effort.
Today we plated Still! More! Desserts! Warm chocolate cake with coffee ice cream, and grapefruit and orange segments with grapefruit tuile and peach sorbet (supposed to be honey ice cream, but we ran out), to be exact. We also made some spiced tuile, poached pears, panna cotta, and poached plums, all of which we'll use tomorrow for, yes, more plated desserts. If we get a day ahead the way the chef plans, we'll have time to do a little chocolate sculpture competition; I'll try to remember my camera.
What I really want is a salad--i.e., something that is not dessert, plated or otherwise. And some exercise: haven't had any of that in way too long. There's some talk in my head of going down to the basement and getting on a machine, but I might be able to talk myself out of it.
Anybody Know a Plumber?
The guy at the unemployment office told me I'd be denied, and, indeed, I was. That's actually good news, in the sense that I got the notice in the mail, which means I'm in the system and can now go appeal the decision, armed with wads of paperwork. I'll probably try to go Monday, though I also want to call the guy who might have a job or internship for me.
So how was your Thanksgiving? I still haven't stopped eating, unfortunately, but we've been having a lot of fun, and no green bean casseroles in sight. The desserts were apparently a big hit--I was pleased with how the nougat mousse cakes and the spice bread came out, and with the taste, but not the consistency, of the nougat candy. I had to leave out the glucose with the nougat, because (a) I didn't have any glucose and (b) glucose often is made from wheat; the stuff I made tasted right but never got as hard as it should have gotten--it was downright drippy, or, really, oozy. I'll talk to the chefs this week and see what's up. If I can get it together, I can probably sell some, which would be helpful. We had three sets of cranberry sauce; two (or maybe three?) sets of stuffing--one regular, one gluten-free, and one gluten-free and sage-free; green beans--but just lightly steamed, not in a casserole; sweet potatoes; bread (the gluten-free folks passed around a roll and sniffed it--wheat porn, they called it); wine; and dessert. There was a spirited game of Trivial Pursuit after dinner, though I missed a significant portion of the game because I fell asleep in the Comfy Chair. Yesterday we hung out some more--went to the museum and the butterfly garden, ate leftover turkey, etc. Originally I was going to come home last night by myself, in part so I could go to a yoga class this morning and in part so I could have a little Alone Time, but I decided to stay; we spent the train fare on coffee and scones at the coffee roaster's down the street from my mother-in-law's place, while C discussed business with his brother-in-law. Today the Kid and I walked back to the coffee place, mostly to get him out of the house, and so I could stock us up on coffee. I don't need much--I only drink it on weekends, and I only drink decaf--but C drinks a lot of it. We left my in-law's place around 1:00 and managed to have a stupid argument in the car on the way home--one that featured both of us acting like immature jerks--but all is forgiven and forgotten now. It feels good to be home.
I forgot to tell you a story: About two weeks ago I did a volunteer stint for school; basically handed out pastry at an event. The event was poorly publicized and featured more chefs and students than attendees, and I doubt much money was raised. Our school shared a round table (it was doughnut-shaped and we were inside the doughnut hole) with another school and with this guy who sells incredible cheeses. I chatted with him for awhile--he was entertaining, and there was nothing else going on, and he had some great stuff (I'm definitely selling his stuff in the bakery). At one point, I was opining about something, I forget what, just my usual. So I said to the guy, "Oops; sorry; I'm trying to be subdued." He looked at me and said, "You're leaking."
Alas. I guess I can't keep it together for even a couple of hours. I hope I can find a job someplace where they can deal with that. And, as if I needed it, that served as yet another reminder that I would truly suck in the corporate world.
So how was your Thanksgiving? I still haven't stopped eating, unfortunately, but we've been having a lot of fun, and no green bean casseroles in sight. The desserts were apparently a big hit--I was pleased with how the nougat mousse cakes and the spice bread came out, and with the taste, but not the consistency, of the nougat candy. I had to leave out the glucose with the nougat, because (a) I didn't have any glucose and (b) glucose often is made from wheat; the stuff I made tasted right but never got as hard as it should have gotten--it was downright drippy, or, really, oozy. I'll talk to the chefs this week and see what's up. If I can get it together, I can probably sell some, which would be helpful. We had three sets of cranberry sauce; two (or maybe three?) sets of stuffing--one regular, one gluten-free, and one gluten-free and sage-free; green beans--but just lightly steamed, not in a casserole; sweet potatoes; bread (the gluten-free folks passed around a roll and sniffed it--wheat porn, they called it); wine; and dessert. There was a spirited game of Trivial Pursuit after dinner, though I missed a significant portion of the game because I fell asleep in the Comfy Chair. Yesterday we hung out some more--went to the museum and the butterfly garden, ate leftover turkey, etc. Originally I was going to come home last night by myself, in part so I could go to a yoga class this morning and in part so I could have a little Alone Time, but I decided to stay; we spent the train fare on coffee and scones at the coffee roaster's down the street from my mother-in-law's place, while C discussed business with his brother-in-law. Today the Kid and I walked back to the coffee place, mostly to get him out of the house, and so I could stock us up on coffee. I don't need much--I only drink it on weekends, and I only drink decaf--but C drinks a lot of it. We left my in-law's place around 1:00 and managed to have a stupid argument in the car on the way home--one that featured both of us acting like immature jerks--but all is forgiven and forgotten now. It feels good to be home.
I forgot to tell you a story: About two weeks ago I did a volunteer stint for school; basically handed out pastry at an event. The event was poorly publicized and featured more chefs and students than attendees, and I doubt much money was raised. Our school shared a round table (it was doughnut-shaped and we were inside the doughnut hole) with another school and with this guy who sells incredible cheeses. I chatted with him for awhile--he was entertaining, and there was nothing else going on, and he had some great stuff (I'm definitely selling his stuff in the bakery). At one point, I was opining about something, I forget what, just my usual. So I said to the guy, "Oops; sorry; I'm trying to be subdued." He looked at me and said, "You're leaking."
Alas. I guess I can't keep it together for even a couple of hours. I hope I can find a job someplace where they can deal with that. And, as if I needed it, that served as yet another reminder that I would truly suck in the corporate world.
Things That Irritate Me: Leaf Blowers
They're really fucking loud, they use a petroleum product, and the task they perform can be done nearly as easily with a rake. Seriously, people: I can almost (almost) see the justification for snow blowers, in some places, for some people, given the number of people who have heart attacks shoveling and given the amount of shoveling that a high-rise building engineer (for example) might have to do otherwise, but nobody's gonna get a heart attack from raking the leaves.
Four Sheet Pans to the Wind
We're all soldiering on at school, dutifully plating the various bits we've made, learning to make sugar cages, yada yada, but everyone is SOOOO ready for the holiday. Today we finished the passion fruit creme brulee (with the aforementioned sugar cages) and the chiboust (with some berries and honey wheat tuile, the latter being a very thin cookie made of, you guessed it, honey and wheat flour). We were supposed to finish the roasted pineapple with mango sorbet and a mango "chip" (a very thin slice of mango that had been dried in a low oven), but my partner and I didn't get to that. We didn't get to much of anything, except the madelines (which were used as garnishes for the chiboust), and I fucked them up by overfilling the mold and underbaking the product a little. I did start to get the hang of the sugar cage (though I didn't have my camera so you'll have to take my word for it).
One of my classmates offered to loan me her half-sheet pans, and even shlepped them in for me, but I discovered that half-sheet pans were on sale at a local chefs' store (they have lots of knives, but lots of other stuff, too) for $5 apiece. I decided that was too good a bargain up to which to pass, despite our current financial straits (hey, it's a legitimate business expense), and I ended up getting four pans plus a small assortment of other tools (an extra rolling pin, a small rolling pin, an offset spatula, a skimmer, some pastry bags). I did not get an extra pair of chef shoes, despite the excellent price.
Once I finally got home with all my crap, I started adapting the pistachio nougat mousse cake for the Thanksgiving crowd. Of the eleven of us, four need gluten-free, three also need dairy-free, and one of the dairy- and gluten-free also needs corn-, soy-, cinnamon-, and sage-free. This last one is the biggest challenge, mainly because confectioner's sugar has cornstarch in it. (I also haven't figured out what I'm going to do for the dairy-free nougat mousse, but I'll work on that tomorrow.)
The basic cake is great for the gluten-free-but-dairy-okay crowd: you may remember that it was pistachio dacquoise, apricot-passion fruit gelee, and honey nougat mousse folded with whipped cream. I'm making a pecan dacquoise, I'm going to try to make a pumpkin gelee, and I'm going to have to do something with the mousse for the dairy-free folks. I made the dacquoise this afternoon (in my new sheet pans, thank you very much), and it looks (and tastes) pretty good. It's a little different texture than the one we made at school, because I don't have the turbo food processor necessary to truly flour-ize the nuts. I like the chunkier texture, though, so that's okay. I also didn't have a big enough mixer or bowl to whip all of the egg whites at once, and the biggest bowl I have was only barely large enough for the folding in of the nuts and confectioner's sugar. Plus, I didn't have my mondo spatula for the folding. Still, it's an interesting challenge, and I'm definitely taking samples in for the chefs to get their feedback. Tomorrow I have to find some acetate for building the cake (the chef said the art store should have it); a cake frame would have been nice, too, but I didn't see one at the store--didn't look for one. I called the Knox gelatin people to find out the strength of their gelatin--typically, that's called "bloom"--and the person at the other end was nice but pretty clueless. She was giving me equivalent weights, but didn't know the gelling strength of the gelatin and seemed unaware that such things varied.
I'm also going to make our spice bread--amazingly enough, it has no butter in it. I'll replace the flour with the gluten-free blend and see what happens. I'll also leave out the cinnamon, though maybe replace it with something else. And I might use ginger ale mix to make the honey nougat mousse . . . If I have time tomorrow, I'm also going to make a batch of nougat candy so the crowd can try that. That's the product I want to sell in my sister-in-law's store.
Speaking of stores, I found a location for the bakery yesterday while coming back from the unemployment office. It was a restaurant, but it looks like they had to close in kind of a hurry (which is a little surprising, because the restaurant had been around for a long while). The location is great, there's no other bakery in the neighborhood, there's probably some equipment on site, and the place almost certainly has appropriate wiring and plumbing. Of course, I can't do anything about this just yet, but it's sure a nice fantasy.
One of my classmates offered to loan me her half-sheet pans, and even shlepped them in for me, but I discovered that half-sheet pans were on sale at a local chefs' store (they have lots of knives, but lots of other stuff, too) for $5 apiece. I decided that was too good a bargain up to which to pass, despite our current financial straits (hey, it's a legitimate business expense), and I ended up getting four pans plus a small assortment of other tools (an extra rolling pin, a small rolling pin, an offset spatula, a skimmer, some pastry bags). I did not get an extra pair of chef shoes, despite the excellent price.
Once I finally got home with all my crap, I started adapting the pistachio nougat mousse cake for the Thanksgiving crowd. Of the eleven of us, four need gluten-free, three also need dairy-free, and one of the dairy- and gluten-free also needs corn-, soy-, cinnamon-, and sage-free. This last one is the biggest challenge, mainly because confectioner's sugar has cornstarch in it. (I also haven't figured out what I'm going to do for the dairy-free nougat mousse, but I'll work on that tomorrow.)
The basic cake is great for the gluten-free-but-dairy-okay crowd: you may remember that it was pistachio dacquoise, apricot-passion fruit gelee, and honey nougat mousse folded with whipped cream. I'm making a pecan dacquoise, I'm going to try to make a pumpkin gelee, and I'm going to have to do something with the mousse for the dairy-free folks. I made the dacquoise this afternoon (in my new sheet pans, thank you very much), and it looks (and tastes) pretty good. It's a little different texture than the one we made at school, because I don't have the turbo food processor necessary to truly flour-ize the nuts. I like the chunkier texture, though, so that's okay. I also didn't have a big enough mixer or bowl to whip all of the egg whites at once, and the biggest bowl I have was only barely large enough for the folding in of the nuts and confectioner's sugar. Plus, I didn't have my mondo spatula for the folding. Still, it's an interesting challenge, and I'm definitely taking samples in for the chefs to get their feedback. Tomorrow I have to find some acetate for building the cake (the chef said the art store should have it); a cake frame would have been nice, too, but I didn't see one at the store--didn't look for one. I called the Knox gelatin people to find out the strength of their gelatin--typically, that's called "bloom"--and the person at the other end was nice but pretty clueless. She was giving me equivalent weights, but didn't know the gelling strength of the gelatin and seemed unaware that such things varied.
I'm also going to make our spice bread--amazingly enough, it has no butter in it. I'll replace the flour with the gluten-free blend and see what happens. I'll also leave out the cinnamon, though maybe replace it with something else. And I might use ginger ale mix to make the honey nougat mousse . . . If I have time tomorrow, I'm also going to make a batch of nougat candy so the crowd can try that. That's the product I want to sell in my sister-in-law's store.
Speaking of stores, I found a location for the bakery yesterday while coming back from the unemployment office. It was a restaurant, but it looks like they had to close in kind of a hurry (which is a little surprising, because the restaurant had been around for a long while). The location is great, there's no other bakery in the neighborhood, there's probably some equipment on site, and the place almost certainly has appropriate wiring and plumbing. Of course, I can't do anything about this just yet, but it's sure a nice fantasy.
What They Say
It turns out--no surprise here--that what they say is true: getting aid from a bureaucracy means waiting around. I got to the unemployment office around 1:00 today and didn't get out of there until after 3:30, if I remember correctly. The people with whom I spoke were reasonably helpful, so that was something, but I mostly sat around while they helped the people in front of me. And, of course, since my company hasn't reported my income or paid unemployment insurance, my original claim will be denied and I'll have to appeal it with pay stubs and tax returns and the like. Plus, there's a waiting week, i.e., you don't get benefits the first week (no, I don't know the logic behind that one). The good news is that, even if I get a job that starts in, say, January, I'm likely to eventually get the money for the five or so weeks between now and then, even if I don't get it until after I start the job. (Hey, trust me, I'll still take it.) The next question is whether my company wants to keep me on part-time. If they do, and if they'll actually pay me, then it might be worthwhile to try to work that out with any bakery employer. But, of course, getting a straight, truthful answer will be a difficult enterprise. (I got an update after I wrote the above, and, of course, there are still promises but no actual money yet.)
Feh.
We've started doing plated desserts, so today we made creme brulee (though we haven't finished it yet) and souffle (which came out okay--it souffleed the way it was supposed to souffle--but tasted kind of eggy), and we roasted a pineapple and made a chiboust cream (a pastry cream with gelatin and with italian meringue folded into it). Tomorrow one of my classmates is bring her sheet pans for me to borrow, so I can experiment with making a gluten-free AND dairy-free dessert for Thanksgiving with that portion of the family. I'm basically adapting one of the recipes from school; the only real question is whether whipped hazelnut milk will have the same rise to it as whipped cream (I'm skeptical but will try it to see, and might try some gelatin as well). If not, I have a backup plan (i.e., use whipped cream, but make a different, dairy-free dessert for that part of the crowd). It would be cool if it worked, though. I'm going to use the stale bread to make bread pudding, though I'll do that at some other time; maybe over the weekend (obviously that wouldn't work for the gluten-free crowd).
I'm sorry I don't have any brilliant insights today. I want to write a book about how management ruined the world--i.e., how MBAs are responsible for many or most of the evils in the world--but not today. I want dinner, but don't want to cook it; unfortunately, that's the only way I'm going to get any. So: time to cook.
Feh.
We've started doing plated desserts, so today we made creme brulee (though we haven't finished it yet) and souffle (which came out okay--it souffleed the way it was supposed to souffle--but tasted kind of eggy), and we roasted a pineapple and made a chiboust cream (a pastry cream with gelatin and with italian meringue folded into it). Tomorrow one of my classmates is bring her sheet pans for me to borrow, so I can experiment with making a gluten-free AND dairy-free dessert for Thanksgiving with that portion of the family. I'm basically adapting one of the recipes from school; the only real question is whether whipped hazelnut milk will have the same rise to it as whipped cream (I'm skeptical but will try it to see, and might try some gelatin as well). If not, I have a backup plan (i.e., use whipped cream, but make a different, dairy-free dessert for that part of the crowd). It would be cool if it worked, though. I'm going to use the stale bread to make bread pudding, though I'll do that at some other time; maybe over the weekend (obviously that wouldn't work for the gluten-free crowd).
I'm sorry I don't have any brilliant insights today. I want to write a book about how management ruined the world--i.e., how MBAs are responsible for many or most of the evils in the world--but not today. I want dinner, but don't want to cook it; unfortunately, that's the only way I'm going to get any. So: time to cook.
Grains Are Our Friends
Plums, too, it turns out. Here's the bus driver's plum tart:
Here's one of the "decorative" breads we made yesterday (there were others, but they're already in the freezer, as is this one now):
And here's today's haul:
From left to right, olive bread, multi-grain bread, and stollen. On the back right are cherry jam (left) and plum and red wine jam; on the left are scaling containers with bits that were too small to put in a jar.
In addition to being extremely good (the little dinner-roll-sized piece in the bottom photo is now in my stomach, along with some artisanal cheese), this will assist tremendously in the austerity efforts, so long as I can find a place in the freezers for it all. On that note, I'll go eat some cake to make room for the bread . . .
Here's one of the "decorative" breads we made yesterday (there were others, but they're already in the freezer, as is this one now):
And here's today's haul:
From left to right, olive bread, multi-grain bread, and stollen. On the back right are cherry jam (left) and plum and red wine jam; on the left are scaling containers with bits that were too small to put in a jar.In addition to being extremely good (the little dinner-roll-sized piece in the bottom photo is now in my stomach, along with some artisanal cheese), this will assist tremendously in the austerity efforts, so long as I can find a place in the freezers for it all. On that note, I'll go eat some cake to make room for the bread . . .
Three Hours
Of handball, that is. It definitely improved things, though today was better than yesterday anyway. My bus driver insisted on paying me today for tomorrow's tart, even though I hadn't intended to make it today after all. But plans changed, so I made it tonight--it's in the oven even as I type. (I'm going to be tired tomorrow, but I don't care.) If I could afford it, I'd save the $20 bill and frame it--my first paying customer. (He really wanted to be my first customer.) Plus, the chef talked to someone this morning (at 4:30 am, no less), and I called the guy this afternoon, and they're crunched because of Thanksgiving, but I should call back after the holiday and we'll figure out a time for me to go see him. In other words, a job interview. Two of the other chefs commented on it today, and they were excited, too; the conclusion seems to be that it's likely to be a good fit for me, given what I want to do and what I need to learn to do it.
I still don't know how we're going to deal with the lack of money in the meanwhile, but we're planning on serious austerity for November and December, and tomorrow's project for me is applying for unemployment, seeing as how on Monday the president promised an update on Tuesday, and, by my calendar, today's Thursday, and there's no update and, of course, no paycheck. I've been threatening the unemployment route; tomorrow I'm going to take it. If we maintain austerity, and, possibly, keep a small balance on my credit card, we might be okay. (I hate carrying a balance and never do it.) You should also understand that we're not destitute--there's bits and pieces of money around, like my 401k, if things got truly desperate, and we could move if we had to (though that's risky, given that we'd be responsible for the rent if they didn't rerent the apartment), and we could go to his mom or my parents if we were in danger of starving. But we're way, way closer to the edge than I've been in awhile, and I really fucking hate it. What I hate most is that the company for which I've been working owes me many thousands of dollars; if I had that money, things would be completely copacetic. Shit, if I had my last three fucking paychecks we'd be fine! But I doubt I'll see that money, and I can't begin to tell you how angry that makes me.
Enough of that subject. Today we made more bread--"decorative" bread (i.e., some entertaining shapes), and we were supposed to fill our brioche with mousseline (pastry cream plus butter) but I declined to do that. I even gave away that loaf to S, who's heading out of town tomorrow morning, so he could share it with friends or relatives, probably in the form of brioche french toast, because it'll be a little stale. We also made Pain d'Epices (a.k.a. spice bread), and I brought in my own honey, which really added to the flavor. It's very moist and chewy and dense and good, and--get ready for this one, folks--it doesn't have ANY butter in it! Nothing was so striking that I have to leap up and take a picture, especially since I froze several of the loaves. It's true that the advanced bread class could not have come at a better time, given that bread makes lunch fodder much better than does fancy-ass cakes and tarts; this will seriously help with the austerity plans.
Time to check on the plum tart. I will try to take a picture of it, given that it will be the first thing I sell.
I still don't know how we're going to deal with the lack of money in the meanwhile, but we're planning on serious austerity for November and December, and tomorrow's project for me is applying for unemployment, seeing as how on Monday the president promised an update on Tuesday, and, by my calendar, today's Thursday, and there's no update and, of course, no paycheck. I've been threatening the unemployment route; tomorrow I'm going to take it. If we maintain austerity, and, possibly, keep a small balance on my credit card, we might be okay. (I hate carrying a balance and never do it.) You should also understand that we're not destitute--there's bits and pieces of money around, like my 401k, if things got truly desperate, and we could move if we had to (though that's risky, given that we'd be responsible for the rent if they didn't rerent the apartment), and we could go to his mom or my parents if we were in danger of starving. But we're way, way closer to the edge than I've been in awhile, and I really fucking hate it. What I hate most is that the company for which I've been working owes me many thousands of dollars; if I had that money, things would be completely copacetic. Shit, if I had my last three fucking paychecks we'd be fine! But I doubt I'll see that money, and I can't begin to tell you how angry that makes me.
Enough of that subject. Today we made more bread--"decorative" bread (i.e., some entertaining shapes), and we were supposed to fill our brioche with mousseline (pastry cream plus butter) but I declined to do that. I even gave away that loaf to S, who's heading out of town tomorrow morning, so he could share it with friends or relatives, probably in the form of brioche french toast, because it'll be a little stale. We also made Pain d'Epices (a.k.a. spice bread), and I brought in my own honey, which really added to the flavor. It's very moist and chewy and dense and good, and--get ready for this one, folks--it doesn't have ANY butter in it! Nothing was so striking that I have to leap up and take a picture, especially since I froze several of the loaves. It's true that the advanced bread class could not have come at a better time, given that bread makes lunch fodder much better than does fancy-ass cakes and tarts; this will seriously help with the austerity plans.
Time to check on the plum tart. I will try to take a picture of it, given that it will be the first thing I sell.
Bags O Bread
I've been neglecting you all, and I'm sorry about that. We've been baking bread this week--brioche, puff pastry, croissant dough used for Danishes, fermented breads, breads made with sourdough starters, cranberry-pecan bread, baguettes, fougasse--you name it, we've made it, or we will be making it within a day or two. Here's the fougasse (the larger loaf) and some cheese bread (top photo), followed by the bag of bread from yesterday, though a couple of the baguettes are missing, as are two of the cranberry-pecans. 
What I'm not showing you are the pastries and brioche, because they're wrapped up for C's workmates, or eaten or frozen, respectively. I had a very good meeting with Chef Bob today about what I can/should do next, and I think he's going to be able to help me. That's a good thing, because we didn't get a paycheck yesterday--that's three missing, for those of you keeping score at home, on top of the already-missing nine--and we didn't get an update, either, even though we were promised same. (That is, on Monday the president said she'd update us Tuesday, but, here at nearly close of business Wednesday, no update.)
C's car is leaking gas, and he hasn't been able to fix it yet. We can't afford to take it to a mechanic, especially given the $1600 for a new clutch and brakes we had to spend. My meager savings are nearly gone. He's losing his job. It's not clear how we're going to meet all of our financial obligations over the next six weeks--we're certainly not going to be getting Christmas presents for anyone except the kids this year; there's just no money for it. Yeah, today was kind of a down day.
What I'm not showing you are the pastries and brioche, because they're wrapped up for C's workmates, or eaten or frozen, respectively. I had a very good meeting with Chef Bob today about what I can/should do next, and I think he's going to be able to help me. That's a good thing, because we didn't get a paycheck yesterday--that's three missing, for those of you keeping score at home, on top of the already-missing nine--and we didn't get an update, either, even though we were promised same. (That is, on Monday the president said she'd update us Tuesday, but, here at nearly close of business Wednesday, no update.)
C's car is leaking gas, and he hasn't been able to fix it yet. We can't afford to take it to a mechanic, especially given the $1600 for a new clutch and brakes we had to spend. My meager savings are nearly gone. He's losing his job. It's not clear how we're going to meet all of our financial obligations over the next six weeks--we're certainly not going to be getting Christmas presents for anyone except the kids this year; there's just no money for it. Yeah, today was kind of a down day.
Saturday Morning 11
kStyle asks what my top ten to twelve values, characteristics, or ideals are, and then asks me to narrow it down to three, and then down to one. This is such an interesting question I decided to answer it here rather than there.
11. The public good. I don't know that there is always AN identifiable public good. But we share the planet and our lives and spaces and selves with each other, and we should work toward understandings of a public good. I wish I knew more about the Quakers, because I suspect the "sense of the meeting," or whatever they call it, would be a useful concept here. Similarly, a notion of consensus--real consensus--is helpful. (And, thinking back on a conversation I had with S last night, the public good is not merely a collection of preferences.)
10. Humor. Often overlooked, often difficult to find, but really quite invaluable. I can't imagine spending a lot of time with someone with whom I didn't laugh. I like to make people laugh, when I can, and I love it when someone makes me laugh.
9. Practice. It's the rare thing that we do well the first time we try it. Most things that are enjoyable take a certain amount of effort, and I think the ability to enjoy that process--i.e., to practice, and to take the practice as an end in itself as well as a means to an end--is absolutely crucial. My yoga practice (!) has been invaluable in this regard, because there isn't a goal or an end. With handball, one wants to become competent in part so one can beat other people, or, at least, compete well (though there's tremendous enjoyment in the playing), but with yoga the practice exists as itself.
8. Patience. I kind of suck at this one, in some ways. It's not that I want everything now, it's that I don't always allocate my time correctly. Some things I need to relax about, and other things I need to relax less about. Sometimes I need the patience to allow myself to practice, and other times I need to focus better.
7. Peace. As Elvis said (if your Elvis is dead, try mine), what's so funny about peace, love and understanding? Some of my friends would be amused by this, given my propensity for ranting, but I think, if pressed, they'd agree that I try to find workable solutions rather than merely assign blame. And that, really, is at the heart of peace. Tolerance is probably part of this, too, hence the "understanding" part of the song.
6. Hard work. That's a little ironic, coming from someone who has slacked away all of yesterday afternoon--I could have done my laundry, read a book, put away my clothes, made some nougat, worked on a business plan; pretty much any of those things. So yesterday's not such a good example. At school, there are some people who just do the work that needs to be done, and there are others who . . . don't. I think there's value in hard work--I think it's related to practice, and to accomplishment and competence or excellence (I don't think excellence generally comes without hard work).
5. The golden rule. It was the guiding moral principle I learned from my parents, it's part of every major ethical or moral system, and I think it is tied, in fundamental ways, to the social nature of our being.
4. The ability to be articulate and the willingness to attempt to be so. While complexity of language and complexity of forms of life are intertwined (to be Wittgensteinian there for a second), I do not think that it's all or only about complexity in the sense of big words or lots of formal education. I've known way too many people who have thought about the world and have thought about the big philosophical questions, even if they don't have big philosophical words with which to do it, and they've done it in ways that provide insight. I've also known people with a lot of education and big words who are afraid to try to articulate any position other than one that feels safe.
3. Education. I don't just mean "higher" education--in fact, that may not be the best thing for everyone. I think everyone should have more-than-basic literacy (and numeracy), and that our school systems are obligated to provide that. Essentially, I'm a marxist, in the sense of the line about being a carpenter in the morning and a fisherman in the afternoon and a scholar in the evening (or whatever the occupations were). Narrowly technical "educations" don't prepare people for any damned thing.
2. Compassion, fairness, and justice. I think these values are intertwined. None of us is perfect, yet we have to figure out ways to deal with people, including ourselves, who have committed unacceptable acts--or even just hurt someone's feelings. Knowing that life isn't particularly "fair" means that we ought to try to be fair and just and compassionate in our dealings with each other.
1. Honesty. You knew I'd put this at the top (or the bottom, as the case may be). It is incumbent upon each of us individually, as well as within the collectivities we create, to do our best to be honest, with ourselves and with each other.
11. The public good. I don't know that there is always AN identifiable public good. But we share the planet and our lives and spaces and selves with each other, and we should work toward understandings of a public good. I wish I knew more about the Quakers, because I suspect the "sense of the meeting," or whatever they call it, would be a useful concept here. Similarly, a notion of consensus--real consensus--is helpful. (And, thinking back on a conversation I had with S last night, the public good is not merely a collection of preferences.)
10. Humor. Often overlooked, often difficult to find, but really quite invaluable. I can't imagine spending a lot of time with someone with whom I didn't laugh. I like to make people laugh, when I can, and I love it when someone makes me laugh.
9. Practice. It's the rare thing that we do well the first time we try it. Most things that are enjoyable take a certain amount of effort, and I think the ability to enjoy that process--i.e., to practice, and to take the practice as an end in itself as well as a means to an end--is absolutely crucial. My yoga practice (!) has been invaluable in this regard, because there isn't a goal or an end. With handball, one wants to become competent in part so one can beat other people, or, at least, compete well (though there's tremendous enjoyment in the playing), but with yoga the practice exists as itself.
8. Patience. I kind of suck at this one, in some ways. It's not that I want everything now, it's that I don't always allocate my time correctly. Some things I need to relax about, and other things I need to relax less about. Sometimes I need the patience to allow myself to practice, and other times I need to focus better.
7. Peace. As Elvis said (if your Elvis is dead, try mine), what's so funny about peace, love and understanding? Some of my friends would be amused by this, given my propensity for ranting, but I think, if pressed, they'd agree that I try to find workable solutions rather than merely assign blame. And that, really, is at the heart of peace. Tolerance is probably part of this, too, hence the "understanding" part of the song.
6. Hard work. That's a little ironic, coming from someone who has slacked away all of yesterday afternoon--I could have done my laundry, read a book, put away my clothes, made some nougat, worked on a business plan; pretty much any of those things. So yesterday's not such a good example. At school, there are some people who just do the work that needs to be done, and there are others who . . . don't. I think there's value in hard work--I think it's related to practice, and to accomplishment and competence or excellence (I don't think excellence generally comes without hard work).
5. The golden rule. It was the guiding moral principle I learned from my parents, it's part of every major ethical or moral system, and I think it is tied, in fundamental ways, to the social nature of our being.
4. The ability to be articulate and the willingness to attempt to be so. While complexity of language and complexity of forms of life are intertwined (to be Wittgensteinian there for a second), I do not think that it's all or only about complexity in the sense of big words or lots of formal education. I've known way too many people who have thought about the world and have thought about the big philosophical questions, even if they don't have big philosophical words with which to do it, and they've done it in ways that provide insight. I've also known people with a lot of education and big words who are afraid to try to articulate any position other than one that feels safe.
3. Education. I don't just mean "higher" education--in fact, that may not be the best thing for everyone. I think everyone should have more-than-basic literacy (and numeracy), and that our school systems are obligated to provide that. Essentially, I'm a marxist, in the sense of the line about being a carpenter in the morning and a fisherman in the afternoon and a scholar in the evening (or whatever the occupations were). Narrowly technical "educations" don't prepare people for any damned thing.
2. Compassion, fairness, and justice. I think these values are intertwined. None of us is perfect, yet we have to figure out ways to deal with people, including ourselves, who have committed unacceptable acts--or even just hurt someone's feelings. Knowing that life isn't particularly "fair" means that we ought to try to be fair and just and compassionate in our dealings with each other.
1. Honesty. You knew I'd put this at the top (or the bottom, as the case may be). It is incumbent upon each of us individually, as well as within the collectivities we create, to do our best to be honest, with ourselves and with each other.
Today's Exercise
Today was an interesting exercise--not my favorite kind of exercise, but interesting for all that. On my way to handball yesterday I checked the mail, and I found the letter informing me that I was not selected for the internship. This was not good news, as you might imagine. So I saw Chef Mary Lou (I forget what I dubbed her when we had her for gum paste flowers) in the locker room the way I usually do, along about 5:30 am, and I said yes, please do keep me in mind as an alternate, if you need that, and then we just talked about the whole thing a little. The thing about which I was worried is that the chefs don't think I'm sufficiently good at this--I prefer to be a member of the reality-based community, and if these guys think I'm foolish for wanting to do this, then I want to hear it rather than not. It would not be a pleasant conversation, but it would be useful information to have before I wasted any more time or money.
Anyway, Chef ML reassured me quite strongly--she told me the chefs think very highly of me, that there were a lot of strong candidates, etc. And, really, I do know how those things go. I'm sure I had a lot of strong support from Chef Bob (and I'll get back to him in a minute), and she said that Chefs Tom and Fred like my work, too, so I felt much, much better. I also know that the chefs take into consideration what they think a person should be doing next, given what the person's long-term goals are, and it's entirely possible that, when push came to shove, they thought I was better off doing something else next, rather than spending six more months with the program, essentially. So Chef ML said I should meet with the chefs, especially if there was one I wanted to meet with in particular; Chef Bob had just walked in the door and I nodded toward him and said I'd badger him next week. Without missing a beat, he said that I'm not badgering him at all, and, when he was wandering through our classroom later in the morning I asked if I could meet with him next week, and he said absolutely, pick a day.
So my exercise for today was to remain cheerful and helpful and so on, despite being sorely disappointed, and I managed to do that reasonably well, I think. I even volunteered for a stint Monday night at a charity thing (I'll stand around in my uniform, describing our pastries as people sample them), even though I'll get home late and the alarm will still ring at 4 am on Tuesday. I'd waited to see if anyone else would volunteer, but no one had, so I figured it wouldn't hurt.
We kind of had a free day today, so my partner and I made chocolate espresso tarts, I sent the pieces for the mille feuille (or howeverthefuck you spell it) home with her because her mom's in town this weekend, I tried to use the leftover puff pastry bits to make a candy (with chocolate, pecans, and hazelnut praline), but I need to work on the chocolate/hazelnut praline ratio, and we made ladyfingers with another new recipe from the chef. People made some interesting things--caramelized oranges, for example, were quite tasty. Monday we have Chef Bob for a week of advanced breads, and I'm looking forward to it. I do love breads. I have to find some bagel recipes so we can try one. I've got some pictures, too (although I cleverly deleted the only picture I had of the tarte tatin, and I sent that to work today with C):
The chocolate espresso tart:
The raspberry mousse that I'm not sharing:
The inside of the raspberry mousse:
The strawberry rhubarb with pistachio mousse (but without the crust and almond cream):
All of these, plus some leftover vacherin, a little chocolate bombe, a little chocolate hazelnut and banana pearl, all of the raspberry silk (with icky white chocolate mousse), and all of the black forest cake are now residing in one or another freezer or refrigerator. If I don't dispense with some of this soon, I don't know what will happen.
Anyway, Chef ML reassured me quite strongly--she told me the chefs think very highly of me, that there were a lot of strong candidates, etc. And, really, I do know how those things go. I'm sure I had a lot of strong support from Chef Bob (and I'll get back to him in a minute), and she said that Chefs Tom and Fred like my work, too, so I felt much, much better. I also know that the chefs take into consideration what they think a person should be doing next, given what the person's long-term goals are, and it's entirely possible that, when push came to shove, they thought I was better off doing something else next, rather than spending six more months with the program, essentially. So Chef ML said I should meet with the chefs, especially if there was one I wanted to meet with in particular; Chef Bob had just walked in the door and I nodded toward him and said I'd badger him next week. Without missing a beat, he said that I'm not badgering him at all, and, when he was wandering through our classroom later in the morning I asked if I could meet with him next week, and he said absolutely, pick a day.
So my exercise for today was to remain cheerful and helpful and so on, despite being sorely disappointed, and I managed to do that reasonably well, I think. I even volunteered for a stint Monday night at a charity thing (I'll stand around in my uniform, describing our pastries as people sample them), even though I'll get home late and the alarm will still ring at 4 am on Tuesday. I'd waited to see if anyone else would volunteer, but no one had, so I figured it wouldn't hurt.
We kind of had a free day today, so my partner and I made chocolate espresso tarts, I sent the pieces for the mille feuille (or howeverthefuck you spell it) home with her because her mom's in town this weekend, I tried to use the leftover puff pastry bits to make a candy (with chocolate, pecans, and hazelnut praline), but I need to work on the chocolate/hazelnut praline ratio, and we made ladyfingers with another new recipe from the chef. People made some interesting things--caramelized oranges, for example, were quite tasty. Monday we have Chef Bob for a week of advanced breads, and I'm looking forward to it. I do love breads. I have to find some bagel recipes so we can try one. I've got some pictures, too (although I cleverly deleted the only picture I had of the tarte tatin, and I sent that to work today with C):
The chocolate espresso tart:
The raspberry mousse that I'm not sharing:
The inside of the raspberry mousse:
The strawberry rhubarb with pistachio mousse (but without the crust and almond cream):
All of these, plus some leftover vacherin, a little chocolate bombe, a little chocolate hazelnut and banana pearl, all of the raspberry silk (with icky white chocolate mousse), and all of the black forest cake are now residing in one or another freezer or refrigerator. If I don't dispense with some of this soon, I don't know what will happen.
Unfinished Ranting, Part I
I've got unfinished business all over this blog, so let's get to it.
First, S and I had a conversation about transactional versus transformational relationships a few weeks ago, and we were lucky enough to have some decent barbequed meat and cold fermented beverages in front of us at the time. I keep thinking about the subject, though, so this isn't a mere recap of that conversation. He, playing devil's advocate, pointed out that economists, especially economists from the University of Chicago, want to regard every interaction between or among humans as transactional. Game theory, with which I had to contend when I was in graduate school, makes a similar move. These approaches also tend to wildly oversimplify descriptions or interpretations of behavior--"modelling," they call it--in ways that remove all nuance from the discussion. The fundamental philosophical claims at the root of these analyses are that human behavior can best be described as a series of transactions and that simplifying explanations to what (they regard as) the heart of any given transaction will provide clarity in a way that a complex description will not. There are two fundamental flaws with this approach (okay, WAY more than two, but I have other fish to fry today).
First off, I disagree that human interactions can or should be described primarily as transactions, and I disagree that all humans think of their interactions that way. Economists and game theorists have a nasty habit of insisting that such transactional behavior is "really" what's going on, even if we say, think, feel, or believe that something else is going on. That is, economists claim to know and understand human behavior better than anyone else, and they tend to regard others' approaches to behavior as misguided. (Yes, I'm oversimplifying, and I'm sure there are many fine economists out there, as well as many fine problems that are best addressed using economists' models.)
Second, while it's true that we typically go back and forth between a model and reality (and that process is a whole other discussion, and one that involves Wittgenstein, which would only upset Larry)--and, again, I'm oversimplifying wildly here--I find that models work best if they retain a certain amount of complexity, nuance (there's that word again), and interpretation. Many economists' and game theorists' models suck all of the life and juice out of human behavior, by reducing it to numbers, often enough, and then claiming that this highly stylized version of the world is the real one, or, at least, the one that provides the most insight into what's "really" going on. To me, this is like dissecting an animal to see how it works and then trying to sew it back together, meanwhile wondering why it just lays there and, after awhile, starts to smell bad and bloat.
In any case, I think that this dichotomy is itself slightly false--it's a useful tool or model, but it enforces a binary split that probably isn't accurate. In addition, while there certainly are people who count the cost of every step they take, of every gesture they make, of everything they give, it is not necessarily the case that everyone is like that, or that this is a particularly laudable way to act. It is also not the case that everyone is "really" transacting all the time, no matter what they claim to be doing. As for me and the bus driver, well, it's not as though we have a deep, meaningful, I-Thou relationship, but I also don't think it's a purely transactional relationship, either. There are several regulars on this bus (at 4:58 am you tend to notice these things), but there's only one other person who talks to him regularly.
Today Chef Fred taught us how to make crepes and tarte tatin, neither of which were in our books and both of which were really quite spectacular. I can't take a picture of the crepes, because I ate them all. I'll take a picture of the tarte tatin later (caramelized apples arranged on a disk of puff pastry) and tell you why it's different from most of the tarte tatin recipes you're likely to find. I have other unfinished business, but I want to get out of here, so it'll have to wait.
First, S and I had a conversation about transactional versus transformational relationships a few weeks ago, and we were lucky enough to have some decent barbequed meat and cold fermented beverages in front of us at the time. I keep thinking about the subject, though, so this isn't a mere recap of that conversation. He, playing devil's advocate, pointed out that economists, especially economists from the University of Chicago, want to regard every interaction between or among humans as transactional. Game theory, with which I had to contend when I was in graduate school, makes a similar move. These approaches also tend to wildly oversimplify descriptions or interpretations of behavior--"modelling," they call it--in ways that remove all nuance from the discussion. The fundamental philosophical claims at the root of these analyses are that human behavior can best be described as a series of transactions and that simplifying explanations to what (they regard as) the heart of any given transaction will provide clarity in a way that a complex description will not. There are two fundamental flaws with this approach (okay, WAY more than two, but I have other fish to fry today).
First off, I disagree that human interactions can or should be described primarily as transactions, and I disagree that all humans think of their interactions that way. Economists and game theorists have a nasty habit of insisting that such transactional behavior is "really" what's going on, even if we say, think, feel, or believe that something else is going on. That is, economists claim to know and understand human behavior better than anyone else, and they tend to regard others' approaches to behavior as misguided. (Yes, I'm oversimplifying, and I'm sure there are many fine economists out there, as well as many fine problems that are best addressed using economists' models.)
Second, while it's true that we typically go back and forth between a model and reality (and that process is a whole other discussion, and one that involves Wittgenstein, which would only upset Larry)--and, again, I'm oversimplifying wildly here--I find that models work best if they retain a certain amount of complexity, nuance (there's that word again), and interpretation. Many economists' and game theorists' models suck all of the life and juice out of human behavior, by reducing it to numbers, often enough, and then claiming that this highly stylized version of the world is the real one, or, at least, the one that provides the most insight into what's "really" going on. To me, this is like dissecting an animal to see how it works and then trying to sew it back together, meanwhile wondering why it just lays there and, after awhile, starts to smell bad and bloat.
In any case, I think that this dichotomy is itself slightly false--it's a useful tool or model, but it enforces a binary split that probably isn't accurate. In addition, while there certainly are people who count the cost of every step they take, of every gesture they make, of everything they give, it is not necessarily the case that everyone is like that, or that this is a particularly laudable way to act. It is also not the case that everyone is "really" transacting all the time, no matter what they claim to be doing. As for me and the bus driver, well, it's not as though we have a deep, meaningful, I-Thou relationship, but I also don't think it's a purely transactional relationship, either. There are several regulars on this bus (at 4:58 am you tend to notice these things), but there's only one other person who talks to him regularly.
Today Chef Fred taught us how to make crepes and tarte tatin, neither of which were in our books and both of which were really quite spectacular. I can't take a picture of the crepes, because I ate them all. I'll take a picture of the tarte tatin later (caramelized apples arranged on a disk of puff pastry) and tell you why it's different from most of the tarte tatin recipes you're likely to find. I have other unfinished business, but I want to get out of here, so it'll have to wait.
The Power
Larry wants to know what counseling I received, and, I have to say, the answer so far is "not much." I think for this first round, the chefs are are asking us what we want to do and, when appropriate, hooking us up with the right people or places. I want to do the internship or, failing that, work at a patisserie in this city where I can get production experience. I don't really think that working in a hotel or restaurant will help me all that much, but I'm willing to listen if the chefs think otherwise. (I could see doing it for three months, for example, under the right chef, and thereby learning a lot about the efficiency about which Chef Tom preaches.) Because of C and the Kid, not to mention a lack of money, I can't really go to another city--and, frankly, even if I could, in order to be willing, I'd have to be convinced that I'd be (a) learning something I could not possibly learn elsewhere and (b) learning something that would be truly worth my while in terms of opening a bakery.
We had our first evaluations with Chef Tom today, and he knocked everybody (or nearly everybody) down a peg or two. I asked the same question I asked in every other evaluation I've received, i.e., how do I get better? On what should I work? Because each chef notices, cares about, or emphasizes a different thing, and the three of them triangulate nicely. He told me I need to be more of a perfectionist, and I think he's right about that. Some people argue that I'm too picky--i.e., too much of a perfectionist already--but I disagree. I think that, in everything we do, there's a balance between getting something done and making it the highest-quality product possible. A product that never sees the light of day (or gets stale) because you're fussing with it isn't good, but neither is a product that could be better if you only took a little more time with it. He told me to focus on getting it right now, and worry about getting faster later.
We didn't actually produce much today. We finished the strawberry rhubarb thing: strawberry gelee, rhubarb confit, pistachio creme legere, all frozen into a cake ring, and that thing sprayed green and set on top of a sablee crust topped with pistachio almond cream that had been baked, with the whole thing surrounded by sliced strawberries and garnished with strawberries and pistachios. I didn't feel like bringing mine home today, but I'll bring it tomorrow and take a picture; mine doesn't have a crust, because there wasn't quite enough cream legere so we shared among tables, and our table ended up with enough for two, but we'd only made one crust. My partner needs to take desserts home for Thanksgiving, so I let her have the one with the crust (it looks quite lovely).
Did I tell you about the power of the cookie? Early on, Chef Fred told us about it. Give stuff away to everyone, he said, and he told stories about how, when he worked in a hotel, the engineers and so on got all kinds of pastry and stuff from him and his staff. When something broke, whose broken thing got attention first, do you suppose? That, he said, is the power of the cookie. I do that anyway--people so rarely get to eat home-made things, and I like to do it. I've been taking stuff to my yoga class, for example, in part so it doesn't just sit around and rot, which would be a shame. Kind of karma yoga, you know? Anyway, remember those plums I sliced last week? We finally cut up and froze the last of them today. However, chef told me to take some of them. Why do I need them? I'd taken a slice of the plum tart to my morning bus driver (I catch the same bus every morning), and he asked me if I would make a whole one for him, that he'd pay me for it. Today I told him I'd do it for him at cost, but he insisted I had to make a profit, so we'll see. Nevertheless, I was completely touched (and excited) that he wanted it--my first real customer! And he clearly wanted it because he wanted it, not because he wants to make me feel good. The power of the cookie, indeed.
We had our first evaluations with Chef Tom today, and he knocked everybody (or nearly everybody) down a peg or two. I asked the same question I asked in every other evaluation I've received, i.e., how do I get better? On what should I work? Because each chef notices, cares about, or emphasizes a different thing, and the three of them triangulate nicely. He told me I need to be more of a perfectionist, and I think he's right about that. Some people argue that I'm too picky--i.e., too much of a perfectionist already--but I disagree. I think that, in everything we do, there's a balance between getting something done and making it the highest-quality product possible. A product that never sees the light of day (or gets stale) because you're fussing with it isn't good, but neither is a product that could be better if you only took a little more time with it. He told me to focus on getting it right now, and worry about getting faster later.
We didn't actually produce much today. We finished the strawberry rhubarb thing: strawberry gelee, rhubarb confit, pistachio creme legere, all frozen into a cake ring, and that thing sprayed green and set on top of a sablee crust topped with pistachio almond cream that had been baked, with the whole thing surrounded by sliced strawberries and garnished with strawberries and pistachios. I didn't feel like bringing mine home today, but I'll bring it tomorrow and take a picture; mine doesn't have a crust, because there wasn't quite enough cream legere so we shared among tables, and our table ended up with enough for two, but we'd only made one crust. My partner needs to take desserts home for Thanksgiving, so I let her have the one with the crust (it looks quite lovely).
Did I tell you about the power of the cookie? Early on, Chef Fred told us about it. Give stuff away to everyone, he said, and he told stories about how, when he worked in a hotel, the engineers and so on got all kinds of pastry and stuff from him and his staff. When something broke, whose broken thing got attention first, do you suppose? That, he said, is the power of the cookie. I do that anyway--people so rarely get to eat home-made things, and I like to do it. I've been taking stuff to my yoga class, for example, in part so it doesn't just sit around and rot, which would be a shame. Kind of karma yoga, you know? Anyway, remember those plums I sliced last week? We finally cut up and froze the last of them today. However, chef told me to take some of them. Why do I need them? I'd taken a slice of the plum tart to my morning bus driver (I catch the same bus every morning), and he asked me if I would make a whole one for him, that he'd pay me for it. Today I told him I'd do it for him at cost, but he insisted I had to make a profit, so we'll see. Nevertheless, I was completely touched (and excited) that he wanted it--my first real customer! And he clearly wanted it because he wanted it, not because he wants to make me feel good. The power of the cookie, indeed.
Monday, Monday
Today we finished the Raspberry Silk cake (bottom to top: almond dacquoise, raspberry gelee, almond dacquoise, white chocolate mousse . . . I think I'm forgetting something in there, but maybe not) and the Black Forest cake (bottom to top: chocolate sponge soaked with a mixture of cherry juice, kirsch, and, I think, simple syrup; a white mousse (another bavarian, maybe? I don't remember) with cherries layered into it; more sponge soaked with the cherry juice mix, more mousse, and chocolate mousse on top). We left about half of the kirsch out of our cake, so maybe it will taste like something other than, or at least in addition to, kirsch. This is the last week of cakes and tarts; we're making two or three more, I think, including a raspberry something and a strawberry rhubarb tart. We were supposed to do ice cream and sorbet next week, but we've already done that; theoretically, Chef Bob is coming back to do advanced breads with us for a week, but I suppose that could be moved to a later week and we could move right along to plated desserts.
Meanwhile, I had my first career counseling session today, with Chef Tom. I laid out my ambitions, right there in the office; Chef Fred happened to be there, as well, though he didn't comment about anything, except when I mentioned my "job," where I'm still not getting paid. I told him/them I want to open my own place within two years, which I'm sure is incredibly ambitious, but why not aim for it? No idea whether I can pull it off, but I don't see any reason not to work toward it. If it takes another year, so be it; hell, if I can't do it at all, so be it, but I want to give it a shot.
The first question is whether I'll get one of the internships at the school. I told Chef Tom that was my first choice for what I do next. I don't know how we'll manage the finances, especially given that paychecks are once again a nonexistent commodity, and especially given that C is about to be laid off, but, as I told Chef Bob on Friday, C and I have decided that, if I get this opportunity, we'll find a way to make it work. If I'd get off my lazy ass and start making products for my sister-in-law's store, well, that would be good. I keep meaning to do things and then . . . not. Today I went so far as to get the stuff out for the nougat i want to make, and discovered that the rice paper for which I sent away is out of date. I don't know if that makes a difference, and I don't know if it makes a difference that it's made from potato starch rather than rice, and I don't want to open the packages until I figure that out. Feh.
As we sat around after dinner Saturday night, B and I got to talking about "work," given that we "work" at the same place. I ranted for awhile, to everyone's amusement, and then B said, "Talk about baking again; you're much happier when you talk about baking." So I did. He and I were supposed to take a walk today, in the woods near his house, but it turns out he had another commitment tonight and couldn't do it. Maybe Wednesday. Meanwhile, I have to decide when to pull the plug and apply for unemployment.
Meanwhile, I had my first career counseling session today, with Chef Tom. I laid out my ambitions, right there in the office; Chef Fred happened to be there, as well, though he didn't comment about anything, except when I mentioned my "job," where I'm still not getting paid. I told him/them I want to open my own place within two years, which I'm sure is incredibly ambitious, but why not aim for it? No idea whether I can pull it off, but I don't see any reason not to work toward it. If it takes another year, so be it; hell, if I can't do it at all, so be it, but I want to give it a shot.
The first question is whether I'll get one of the internships at the school. I told Chef Tom that was my first choice for what I do next. I don't know how we'll manage the finances, especially given that paychecks are once again a nonexistent commodity, and especially given that C is about to be laid off, but, as I told Chef Bob on Friday, C and I have decided that, if I get this opportunity, we'll find a way to make it work. If I'd get off my lazy ass and start making products for my sister-in-law's store, well, that would be good. I keep meaning to do things and then . . . not. Today I went so far as to get the stuff out for the nougat i want to make, and discovered that the rice paper for which I sent away is out of date. I don't know if that makes a difference, and I don't know if it makes a difference that it's made from potato starch rather than rice, and I don't want to open the packages until I figure that out. Feh.
As we sat around after dinner Saturday night, B and I got to talking about "work," given that we "work" at the same place. I ranted for awhile, to everyone's amusement, and then B said, "Talk about baking again; you're much happier when you talk about baking." So I did. He and I were supposed to take a walk today, in the woods near his house, but it turns out he had another commitment tonight and couldn't do it. Maybe Wednesday. Meanwhile, I have to decide when to pull the plug and apply for unemployment.
Banana Rama
Today's theme was "napping." I did manage a 9 am yoga class and grocery shopping, but this afternoon was naptime. And I really don't like naps. Dinner last night was quite tasty (J made a great salad with pumpkin seeds and asiago cheese, and ravioli stuffed with sweet potatos and garnished with sage broth, fried sage, and goat cheese), and I got other people to sample some desserts. We had the vacherin (mango and raspberry sorbets, topped with meringue and whipped cream), the banana pearl, and the chocolate hazelnut mousses cake. Much to my surprise, the favorite was the banana pearl--all three of them LOVED it, much more than they liked either of the others. I was completely put off by the white chocolate, though admittedly you couldn't taste that much of it. The banana is a good dessert, however, and, especially given the overwhelming response, something I'd try to adapt for the bakery. It has a nice mix of flavors and textures, which is something the chefs are stressing constantly.
Friday night, as C and I walked in, the doorman, E, told me he wanted to see me. I've lived in this building for seven years now, and I've gotten to know him pretty well, and I like him tremendously. He's in his 70s, I think, and he's just a great guy; he keeps chugging along despite several bouts with skin cancer (it has returned, for the third time), heart problems (he's got a defibrillator and he's had some heart attacks), and, recently, recurrent anemia, such that every so many weeks he gets hospitalized for some blood transfusions. I think he also had gastro issues some years ago, too, and had some intestine removed, but I don't remember the full story on that one. He's worked at this building for more than 20 years, so he knows everything about everything here. Given his physical issues, he doesn't get out much, except to get to the doctor or the hospital; one of the other doormen goes grocery shopping for him at the end of E's shift, and I brought him tomatos all summer from the farmers' market. I also bake for him--he's particularly fond of sour cherry pies (he likes his with no sugar at all)--and give him some of whatever I've made. I used to be able to stop and chat in the morning (he goes off at 8 am), but my current schedule really doesn't permit it. I see him on the occasional Friday night, though, when I've been out carousing.
Anyway, I made sure to go downstairs early this morning, on my way to yoga. What did he want? Well, it turns out that he wants to give me (in company with his gastroenterologist) power of attorney to make end of life decisions for him, should he be unconscious and unable to speak for himself. He's having the papers drawn up, but he wanted to check with me before he did it. He asked me, he said, because he wanted it to be someone who'd be rational about it and would respect his wishes. Of course I agreed, and of course I was extremely touched by his request. And, given the issues enumerated above, I wouldn't be surprised if one or more of his ailments do him in sooner rather than later. I'd be very surprised if I had any decisions to make, mind you, but he's a tough old bird, so you never know.
I talked to B this morning, too; he's back home. His brother's funeral/memorial service was yesterday. It was only a short conversation, though; I'd thought he was still in Vermont, but he was in California, so the time zones were working against me (luckily I called AFTER yoga, rather than before). At one point I said, "I can't even imagine," but then I caught myself (and he chimed in) and said, well, actually, yes I CAN imagine, having been there. I wish I could see him; I was calling him today in the hope that he hadn't gone back west yet and could be talked into a layover here, though I doubt I would have succeeded at that. I was so, so, so happy he could be here for the wedding, and, it turns out, there are two quite lovely pictures of the two of us. My heart will continue to be with him.
Friday night, as C and I walked in, the doorman, E, told me he wanted to see me. I've lived in this building for seven years now, and I've gotten to know him pretty well, and I like him tremendously. He's in his 70s, I think, and he's just a great guy; he keeps chugging along despite several bouts with skin cancer (it has returned, for the third time), heart problems (he's got a defibrillator and he's had some heart attacks), and, recently, recurrent anemia, such that every so many weeks he gets hospitalized for some blood transfusions. I think he also had gastro issues some years ago, too, and had some intestine removed, but I don't remember the full story on that one. He's worked at this building for more than 20 years, so he knows everything about everything here. Given his physical issues, he doesn't get out much, except to get to the doctor or the hospital; one of the other doormen goes grocery shopping for him at the end of E's shift, and I brought him tomatos all summer from the farmers' market. I also bake for him--he's particularly fond of sour cherry pies (he likes his with no sugar at all)--and give him some of whatever I've made. I used to be able to stop and chat in the morning (he goes off at 8 am), but my current schedule really doesn't permit it. I see him on the occasional Friday night, though, when I've been out carousing.
Anyway, I made sure to go downstairs early this morning, on my way to yoga. What did he want? Well, it turns out that he wants to give me (in company with his gastroenterologist) power of attorney to make end of life decisions for him, should he be unconscious and unable to speak for himself. He's having the papers drawn up, but he wanted to check with me before he did it. He asked me, he said, because he wanted it to be someone who'd be rational about it and would respect his wishes. Of course I agreed, and of course I was extremely touched by his request. And, given the issues enumerated above, I wouldn't be surprised if one or more of his ailments do him in sooner rather than later. I'd be very surprised if I had any decisions to make, mind you, but he's a tough old bird, so you never know.
I talked to B this morning, too; he's back home. His brother's funeral/memorial service was yesterday. It was only a short conversation, though; I'd thought he was still in Vermont, but he was in California, so the time zones were working against me (luckily I called AFTER yoga, rather than before). At one point I said, "I can't even imagine," but then I caught myself (and he chimed in) and said, well, actually, yes I CAN imagine, having been there. I wish I could see him; I was calling him today in the hope that he hadn't gone back west yet and could be talked into a layover here, though I doubt I would have succeeded at that. I was so, so, so happy he could be here for the wedding, and, it turns out, there are two quite lovely pictures of the two of us. My heart will continue to be with him.
Multiple Evils
Yes, well. As S and I headed for handball yesterday, my cell phone rang, and on the other end was one of my best friends, calling from the airport, where he was waiting for a connection. Turns out his brother was murdered over the weekend and my friend is heading east to deal with all of the aftermath. Brutal and senseless, and, yes, truly, as opposed to flippantly, evil. (kStyle, you might have heard about this--it was in Vermont and I think it's getting pretty big play in New England.)
So, really, it makes tales of the evils of white chocolate seem less important somehow, doesn't it? Nevertheless, I'll update you, because (a) there's not much I can say about something like my friend's brother being murdered, at least not here, and (b) I haven't been doing a very good job keeping you informed. We cleaned early this morning, before starting work, because Wolfgang Puck was in town--at the benefit last night for which the chefs prepared dessert, as a matter of fact--and he wanted to come visit the school and have lunch with two of our chefs, and Chef Tom wanted us to be ready. So, yes, I was in the same space as Puck was, for quite awhile, but I didn't talk to him. I didn't really have anything to say to him, if you want to know the truth, and I saw no reason to bug him with trivial stuff. We assembled a few of our cakes, but we only brought one home--the Banana Pearl (bottom to top: chocolate sponge, chocolate ganache, Rice Krispies mixed with hazelnut praline and milk chocolate, chocolate sponge, chocolate ganache, caramelized bananas, vanilla bavarian cream (cream anglaise, whipped cream, and a little gelatin to help hold it together), and a white chocolate glaze). I haven't tasted it yet, but I think it's going to rock, except for the white chocolate glaze. We also assembled the Black Forest cake, but we haven't glazed that yet, and we assembled the raspberry thing, which includes almond dacquoise, but, unfortunately also white chocolate. Feh. J is having us and B over for dinner tomorrow night, and I'm bringing dessert, of course--or desserts, as the case may be. I'd wanted to try a new recipe on them, but we have so much sugar in our freezers that I'm not going to make something new. I'll bring the Vacherin, the Banana Pearl, and the Chocolate Hazelnut Mirror Cake thingie, at least.
I think beer is in order tonight.
So, really, it makes tales of the evils of white chocolate seem less important somehow, doesn't it? Nevertheless, I'll update you, because (a) there's not much I can say about something like my friend's brother being murdered, at least not here, and (b) I haven't been doing a very good job keeping you informed. We cleaned early this morning, before starting work, because Wolfgang Puck was in town--at the benefit last night for which the chefs prepared dessert, as a matter of fact--and he wanted to come visit the school and have lunch with two of our chefs, and Chef Tom wanted us to be ready. So, yes, I was in the same space as Puck was, for quite awhile, but I didn't talk to him. I didn't really have anything to say to him, if you want to know the truth, and I saw no reason to bug him with trivial stuff. We assembled a few of our cakes, but we only brought one home--the Banana Pearl (bottom to top: chocolate sponge, chocolate ganache, Rice Krispies mixed with hazelnut praline and milk chocolate, chocolate sponge, chocolate ganache, caramelized bananas, vanilla bavarian cream (cream anglaise, whipped cream, and a little gelatin to help hold it together), and a white chocolate glaze). I haven't tasted it yet, but I think it's going to rock, except for the white chocolate glaze. We also assembled the Black Forest cake, but we haven't glazed that yet, and we assembled the raspberry thing, which includes almond dacquoise, but, unfortunately also white chocolate. Feh. J is having us and B over for dinner tomorrow night, and I'm bringing dessert, of course--or desserts, as the case may be. I'd wanted to try a new recipe on them, but we have so much sugar in our freezers that I'm not going to make something new. I'll bring the Vacherin, the Banana Pearl, and the Chocolate Hazelnut Mirror Cake thingie, at least.
I think beer is in order tonight.
Tarts from a Tart
Oh, there are so many things I should be doing right now--editing something for someone; working on recipes; working on a needlepoint that is 10+ years overdue; cleaning the kitchen; working out--any of those would be fine substitutes for my current activity set, which mostly consists of fucking around doing nothing much. I might switch to reading, eventually, because if I finish "Fellowship of the Ring" I can switch volumes and not run the risk of running out of reading material tomorrow. Eventually, I will shlep to the north side and run a smoking cessation group and then have dinner with the friend whose group I'm running.
No, I have not received a paycheck for October 30. Yesterday morning we received an email promising us an update yesterday, but said update still has not arrived. When it does arrive, it will almost certainly include (a) a detailed itinerary of the various documents and emails and phone calls that have been exchanged and (b) optimistic promises regarding the likelihood of getting one check sometime in the next week or so. What it will almost certainly not include is a time and place we can pick up the two most recent checks we are owed or a schedule for payment of the nine checks we are owed from last year. Okay, that's all I can write about that without getting completely enraged. I think I'm a bit depressed lately, despite the incredible fun I'm having at school, and that's hardly a surprise--but I really don't want to let the depression take me away.
So what have we made this week? Yesterday we took home a cake similar to the nougat mousse thing, except it had coconut dacquoise, coconut mousse, passion fruit mousse, and some candied pineapple in it. Today we finished a chocolate mirror cake that was really quite lovely (from the bottom up: hazelnut dacquoise; chopped caramelized hazelnuts; hazelnut mousse; chocolate sponge; chocolate mousse; chocolate mirror glaze). We also made plum tarts (basic pie dough, almond cream, almond flour, fresh plums)--they were going to be apricot tarts, but the chef is doing the dessert for a benefit of some kind on Thursday, and he's doing plum tarts (the plums are being poached in wine and spices; I helped cut them up yesterday after school). They have many vats of plums, but the number of people attending the dinner has dropped by a hundred, so they vats of plums left over. The tart was quite tasty. We made a few other things, but I'll detail them when we bring them home. Yes, I know, I should be taking pictures for you, but I'm too lazy.
Meanwhile, I also submitted my application yesterday for the internship at the school. I'm completely conflicted about it, for about 37 reasons, but the biggest reason is financial: it's unpaid, and it's 50 hours/week, so I probably would have to quit the "job" I have altogether. I don't know if C and I can manage if I'm bringing in no income, so it's a huge risk. If I'd get my back pay, of course, it would probably be okay, but counting on that happening seems like a poor plan. I'd like to start a small home business, but I can't actually do the cooking at home, and I need a few hundred bucks to get started (and get liability insurance for the kitchen I'd be renting), so that's a difficult venture, too. (If I'd focus already and stop slacking it would be better, but . . .) We'll see what the chefs think--if they have a lot of applications from people better-suited than I am for the internship, then I might not have to worry about it. I could maybe do the afternoon class instead of the morning class, and go to work for 3 hours before going to the internship, but that would mean (a) a schedule even crazier than the one I have now, (b) no opportunity to develop recipes or a business, and (c) no handball or yoga for six months. That doesn't sound like a good life plan, but who knows.
No, I have not received a paycheck for October 30. Yesterday morning we received an email promising us an update yesterday, but said update still has not arrived. When it does arrive, it will almost certainly include (a) a detailed itinerary of the various documents and emails and phone calls that have been exchanged and (b) optimistic promises regarding the likelihood of getting one check sometime in the next week or so. What it will almost certainly not include is a time and place we can pick up the two most recent checks we are owed or a schedule for payment of the nine checks we are owed from last year. Okay, that's all I can write about that without getting completely enraged. I think I'm a bit depressed lately, despite the incredible fun I'm having at school, and that's hardly a surprise--but I really don't want to let the depression take me away.
So what have we made this week? Yesterday we took home a cake similar to the nougat mousse thing, except it had coconut dacquoise, coconut mousse, passion fruit mousse, and some candied pineapple in it. Today we finished a chocolate mirror cake that was really quite lovely (from the bottom up: hazelnut dacquoise; chopped caramelized hazelnuts; hazelnut mousse; chocolate sponge; chocolate mousse; chocolate mirror glaze). We also made plum tarts (basic pie dough, almond cream, almond flour, fresh plums)--they were going to be apricot tarts, but the chef is doing the dessert for a benefit of some kind on Thursday, and he's doing plum tarts (the plums are being poached in wine and spices; I helped cut them up yesterday after school). They have many vats of plums, but the number of people attending the dinner has dropped by a hundred, so they vats of plums left over. The tart was quite tasty. We made a few other things, but I'll detail them when we bring them home. Yes, I know, I should be taking pictures for you, but I'm too lazy.
Meanwhile, I also submitted my application yesterday for the internship at the school. I'm completely conflicted about it, for about 37 reasons, but the biggest reason is financial: it's unpaid, and it's 50 hours/week, so I probably would have to quit the "job" I have altogether. I don't know if C and I can manage if I'm bringing in no income, so it's a huge risk. If I'd get my back pay, of course, it would probably be okay, but counting on that happening seems like a poor plan. I'd like to start a small home business, but I can't actually do the cooking at home, and I need a few hundred bucks to get started (and get liability insurance for the kitchen I'd be renting), so that's a difficult venture, too. (If I'd focus already and stop slacking it would be better, but . . .) We'll see what the chefs think--if they have a lot of applications from people better-suited than I am for the internship, then I might not have to worry about it. I could maybe do the afternoon class instead of the morning class, and go to work for 3 hours before going to the internship, but that would mean (a) a schedule even crazier than the one I have now, (b) no opportunity to develop recipes or a business, and (c) no handball or yoga for six months. That doesn't sound like a good life plan, but who knows.
Queen, Revisited
I tried to watch last night, but, alas, I was too tired. (I did make it to yoga yesterday, despite a bad case of motivational deficiency disorder, so yay me on that score.) I live in one of the neighborhoods with all of the bars, however, so, when I was awakened at 12:30 by horns blowing and people yelling and cheering, I quickly and correctly concluded that the White Sox had won. I would normally sleep through such ruckus, especially given that C is out of town, but I suspect the noise level was much higher than usual. I went back to sleep within ten minutes, however. I admit to having been torn regarding this series. I would normally root for the National League team (because the designated hitter is an abomination unto human and beast and should be abolished, by Constitutional amendment if necessary)--but Houston edged out my beloved Phillies, so they were the one team in the NL playoffs for whom I could not root whole-heartedly, Rocket notwithstanding. Given my antipathy toward the American League, I thus had some difficulty rooting for the White Sox, even if they are one of my current-home teams, not least because I will never truly belong in this city, no matter how many years I live here (I'm up to 19 years, so it's not like I haven't given it a try). I ended up half-heartedly rooting for the Sox, but not actually watching much of the Series.
I've been in several cities when the hometown team won a championship: I was in Philadelphia when the Sixers beat the Lakers in, hmmm, must have been '83?, and not far away when the Phillies won in, I think, 81. I was in Houston when the Rockets won--both times, I think, though I might be wrong about that. I was in Chicago when the Bulls won, all six times (and was among the cheering, yelling crowds at least once), and now when the Sox won. Luckily, I was NOT here when the Bears won, or I don't know what I would have done. (C is an uncontrollable Bears fan, and he's already teaching the Kid that, every week, one roots for two teams: for the Bears, and for whomever is playing the Packers. I fear for our marriage, or, at least, my sanity, if the Bears ever get close to the Super Bowl again.) It's a little strange, at this point, given that those of us who get all excited about it are basically getting excited about watching people do their jobs. The stars no longer (or rarely) take the subway to the ballpark or live anywhere near the fans, and even the "fans" are more likely to be businesspeople who can write off the tickets as entertainment expense. What's amazing, nevertheless, is that beauty still breaks out of this capitalist stranglehold--men and women play hard, play well, execute flawlessly or nearly so, not because they're getting paid, but because they can. The equation works the other way around, I guess: they get paid precisely because they CAN execute. (And do not come here to bitch about players' salaries: the money that sports teams make can go to two groups of people, the owners and the players. Given that choice, I will always pick the players. And there isn't a third choice.) Anyway, to use something that Susie mentioned the other day, I think that, at its finest and best, sports can be transformational--watching OR playing.
As soon as I get around to it, I'm adding twisty to the blogroll, because I'm lovin' her patriarchy-blaming style; go check her out. While you're at it, check out badger, too. She's dealing with some very tough times right now (as is Twisty), and they're both giving new meaning to the notion of grace under pressure.
But you people, you don't care about that--you want to know what I've been making this week, don't you? Well okay then. Yesterday was a bonanza of sugar and fat. We took home two kinds of lemon tart, one made with lemon curd that was extremely good and one made with lemon cream, which tasted like lemon butter and I really disliked it intensely. Both had meringue on them, but we baked the meringue separately, so I've been chowing on meringue and its evilness for two days. We made a Paris-Brest, which is (bottom to top): pate a choux with nuts, hazelnut pastry cream, pate a choux, more pastry cream, nougatine (!), more pate a choux with nuts, and then, piped around the whole thing, more hazelnut pastry cream. It's made to look like a bicycle wheel (or, at least, to invoke one), because it's in honor of a bicycle race between Paris and Brest. We also took home a St. Honore cake (St. Honore is the patron saint of pastry chefs): inverted puff pastry (i.e., the butter is on the outside, rather than the inside, of the dough), pate a choux puffs filled with a different kind of pastry cream (called chiboust; it's got whipped cream and meringue folded into the basic pastry cream) and dipped in caramel (I burned ours a bit), then dipped on the other side and attached to the puff pastry; and filled with the chiboust cream, which is piped using a special St. Honore tip. (St. Honore's day is apparently either May 16 or May 20; I can't seem to find out. But my bakery will give out free pastry on that day.) Today we finished the pistachio nougat mousse cake, but I won't take mine until tomorrow. Bottom to top: pistachio dacquoise; apricot-passion-fruit gelee; pistachio dacquoise; nougat mousse (italian meringue made with honey instead of hot sugar); pistachio dacquoise; nougat mousse; pistachios, apricots, and dried cherries, all chopped up; and a thin layer of apricot glaze to seal and protect the cake. It is extremely good.
I've been in several cities when the hometown team won a championship: I was in Philadelphia when the Sixers beat the Lakers in, hmmm, must have been '83?, and not far away when the Phillies won in, I think, 81. I was in Houston when the Rockets won--both times, I think, though I might be wrong about that. I was in Chicago when the Bulls won, all six times (and was among the cheering, yelling crowds at least once), and now when the Sox won. Luckily, I was NOT here when the Bears won, or I don't know what I would have done. (C is an uncontrollable Bears fan, and he's already teaching the Kid that, every week, one roots for two teams: for the Bears, and for whomever is playing the Packers. I fear for our marriage, or, at least, my sanity, if the Bears ever get close to the Super Bowl again.) It's a little strange, at this point, given that those of us who get all excited about it are basically getting excited about watching people do their jobs. The stars no longer (or rarely) take the subway to the ballpark or live anywhere near the fans, and even the "fans" are more likely to be businesspeople who can write off the tickets as entertainment expense. What's amazing, nevertheless, is that beauty still breaks out of this capitalist stranglehold--men and women play hard, play well, execute flawlessly or nearly so, not because they're getting paid, but because they can. The equation works the other way around, I guess: they get paid precisely because they CAN execute. (And do not come here to bitch about players' salaries: the money that sports teams make can go to two groups of people, the owners and the players. Given that choice, I will always pick the players. And there isn't a third choice.) Anyway, to use something that Susie mentioned the other day, I think that, at its finest and best, sports can be transformational--watching OR playing.
As soon as I get around to it, I'm adding twisty to the blogroll, because I'm lovin' her patriarchy-blaming style; go check her out. While you're at it, check out badger, too. She's dealing with some very tough times right now (as is Twisty), and they're both giving new meaning to the notion of grace under pressure.
But you people, you don't care about that--you want to know what I've been making this week, don't you? Well okay then. Yesterday was a bonanza of sugar and fat. We took home two kinds of lemon tart, one made with lemon curd that was extremely good and one made with lemon cream, which tasted like lemon butter and I really disliked it intensely. Both had meringue on them, but we baked the meringue separately, so I've been chowing on meringue and its evilness for two days. We made a Paris-Brest, which is (bottom to top): pate a choux with nuts, hazelnut pastry cream, pate a choux, more pastry cream, nougatine (!), more pate a choux with nuts, and then, piped around the whole thing, more hazelnut pastry cream. It's made to look like a bicycle wheel (or, at least, to invoke one), because it's in honor of a bicycle race between Paris and Brest. We also took home a St. Honore cake (St. Honore is the patron saint of pastry chefs): inverted puff pastry (i.e., the butter is on the outside, rather than the inside, of the dough), pate a choux puffs filled with a different kind of pastry cream (called chiboust; it's got whipped cream and meringue folded into the basic pastry cream) and dipped in caramel (I burned ours a bit), then dipped on the other side and attached to the puff pastry; and filled with the chiboust cream, which is piped using a special St. Honore tip. (St. Honore's day is apparently either May 16 or May 20; I can't seem to find out. But my bakery will give out free pastry on that day.) Today we finished the pistachio nougat mousse cake, but I won't take mine until tomorrow. Bottom to top: pistachio dacquoise; apricot-passion-fruit gelee; pistachio dacquoise; nougat mousse (italian meringue made with honey instead of hot sugar); pistachio dacquoise; nougat mousse; pistachios, apricots, and dried cherries, all chopped up; and a thin layer of apricot glaze to seal and protect the cake. It is extremely good.
Hivelettes, etc.
So last night C and I went to dinner, but we decided to have dessert at home, because of the ice cream cakes in the freezer. I hacked off a couple of pieces for us, we ate them . . . and I broke out in hives. Not from the ice cream, but I really have no clue why. The hives only lasted about 20 minutes, and they weren't extreme, but I definitely had me some itchy blotches. I suppose I could freak out and think that my body is weakening or something, but I prefer to interpret it precisely the other way 'round. That is, something made me break out in hives, but the sensible part of me said, "Oh, stop it already," and the hives went away. It's not obvious why I actually, instead of merely metaphorically, broke out in hives. Yes, I had shrimp and red wine, but I've had them hundreds or thousands of times without hives, and, frankly, they wouldn't have gone away so quickly if it were a truly serious allergy of some kind. I think I had some a few weeks ago at handball (and, it turns out, exercise can induce them), but I just ignored them and kept playing (which, it also turns out, isn't what you're supposed to do) and they went away, if, indeed, they were ever there. (I didn't stop playing and take off my clothes to check.) Eh; I'm not going to worry about it, but it was a little weird.
Chef Tom is a trip. He likes to quiz you as he goes along with his demo, and he forces you to (try to) think about what makes sense, not just blindly follow along. It's challenging, and I like it. He, too, complained about how much noise we (as a class) make, and I fear we're never going to be very good on that score, but I think we can improve. We'd better, or he'll make us miserable.
We also got our exams back from Chef Bob today, and my evaluations were just about where I expected them to be. As I noted before, the only thing I really fucked up badly was the chocolate showpiece (and the sugar written exam), and I did a few things quite well, so I'm pretty pleased, all in all. Satisfied? No, not really, at least not in the sense of "Okay, that's as good as I want or need to be," but definitely in the sense of "Okay, I'm getting this, and with some practice I could be good at some of it." It's funny--I suspect that there are people (and times in my life when I would have been among them) who focus on, and mainly see, the negative comments, the criticisms and critiques the chef provided. I certainly read those, but, really, I could have done some (but not all) of those myself in some ways. I find myself focusing at least as much on the positive comments, in part so I know what I did right. My last partner, V, thinks that the chefs are all soft on us (not Chef Tom, so much, but definitely Chef Fred). I see her point, on one hand: they don't run the kitchen as strictly as they could, even if they are demanding about quite a few things. On the other hand, when it comes to grading the product, they point out the smallest details, and they grade accordingly, so I can't quite classify them as "soft," either.
The exams are an interesting exercise. They really force you to focus, to manage your time and your resources, and to produce something that's as good as you can get it without taking too much time, which means, at our level, that there will be compromises. Take the raspberry bonbons: I could have redone the shells a third time and perhaps managed to get them a little bit better. Would I have done them better enough to justify the extra half hour to 45 minutes it would have taken me? Probably not. Something else would have suffered, for sure, and I finished maybe 15 minutes before time was up as it was. So, I know they were flawed--not perfect--but they were still pretty damned good, and I managed to get really nice bottoms on them, too. But was it worth it to do them a second time? Definitely; the first time around, the shells were really horrible. In any case, with both the raspberry and the hand-dipped chocolates, I had enough from which to choose so I could find 12 of each that were pretty good. (I only dipped about 16-18 of the hand-dipped ones.)
In Emma's-a-geek news, I reread "The Hobbit," which I hadn't done in years, prior (this time) to reading the trilogy. And now it's time for the yearly reading of the trilogy. Yeah, I know, I know. And I don't care.
Finally, I've had to burst balloons lately, which isn't all that much fun, but is sometimes necessary. As I fret about whether I'm actually going to be able to start a business, I have people tell me that "If there's a will there's a way," and "You can do it!" and so on. I know people mean to be kind, and they mean to tell me how much they think of me, but I know better. That is, hard work is a necessary but not a sufficient condition--and, frankly, if you've got the right connections and/or money, it's not even a necessary condition. I've wanted things very badly, worked very hard to get them, and gone into serious debt and spent many years in the effort, and it still didn't work out. That's not to say I'm not going to try this time, only that there's no reason to think I'm actually going to be successful.
Chef Tom is a trip. He likes to quiz you as he goes along with his demo, and he forces you to (try to) think about what makes sense, not just blindly follow along. It's challenging, and I like it. He, too, complained about how much noise we (as a class) make, and I fear we're never going to be very good on that score, but I think we can improve. We'd better, or he'll make us miserable.
We also got our exams back from Chef Bob today, and my evaluations were just about where I expected them to be. As I noted before, the only thing I really fucked up badly was the chocolate showpiece (and the sugar written exam), and I did a few things quite well, so I'm pretty pleased, all in all. Satisfied? No, not really, at least not in the sense of "Okay, that's as good as I want or need to be," but definitely in the sense of "Okay, I'm getting this, and with some practice I could be good at some of it." It's funny--I suspect that there are people (and times in my life when I would have been among them) who focus on, and mainly see, the negative comments, the criticisms and critiques the chef provided. I certainly read those, but, really, I could have done some (but not all) of those myself in some ways. I find myself focusing at least as much on the positive comments, in part so I know what I did right. My last partner, V, thinks that the chefs are all soft on us (not Chef Tom, so much, but definitely Chef Fred). I see her point, on one hand: they don't run the kitchen as strictly as they could, even if they are demanding about quite a few things. On the other hand, when it comes to grading the product, they point out the smallest details, and they grade accordingly, so I can't quite classify them as "soft," either.
The exams are an interesting exercise. They really force you to focus, to manage your time and your resources, and to produce something that's as good as you can get it without taking too much time, which means, at our level, that there will be compromises. Take the raspberry bonbons: I could have redone the shells a third time and perhaps managed to get them a little bit better. Would I have done them better enough to justify the extra half hour to 45 minutes it would have taken me? Probably not. Something else would have suffered, for sure, and I finished maybe 15 minutes before time was up as it was. So, I know they were flawed--not perfect--but they were still pretty damned good, and I managed to get really nice bottoms on them, too. But was it worth it to do them a second time? Definitely; the first time around, the shells were really horrible. In any case, with both the raspberry and the hand-dipped chocolates, I had enough from which to choose so I could find 12 of each that were pretty good. (I only dipped about 16-18 of the hand-dipped ones.)
In Emma's-a-geek news, I reread "The Hobbit," which I hadn't done in years, prior (this time) to reading the trilogy. And now it's time for the yearly reading of the trilogy. Yeah, I know, I know. And I don't care.
Finally, I've had to burst balloons lately, which isn't all that much fun, but is sometimes necessary. As I fret about whether I'm actually going to be able to start a business, I have people tell me that "If there's a will there's a way," and "You can do it!" and so on. I know people mean to be kind, and they mean to tell me how much they think of me, but I know better. That is, hard work is a necessary but not a sufficient condition--and, frankly, if you've got the right connections and/or money, it's not even a necessary condition. I've wanted things very badly, worked very hard to get them, and gone into serious debt and spent many years in the effort, and it still didn't work out. That's not to say I'm not going to try this time, only that there's no reason to think I'm actually going to be successful.
Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts
I'm thinking of that song because of the incessant drilling outside today ("the cabaret was quiet except for the drillin' in the wall"). Yes, just what this neighborhood needs is yet another luxury high-rise, because the 50-60 that have been built in the past ten years surely won't be enough, and the two that have gone up within a block of the latest one aren't enough for the immediate neighborhood. As best I can figure, each of the development companies went to a different bank for their financing; otherwise, someone would have figured out that there really isn't enough demand for all of the buildings. But hey, what do I know? I'm a marginally employed pastry chef, and I'm not even working AS a pastry chef yet.
We switched chefs and partners today, and both will be fine. This chef (let's call him Tom) is also quite interesting. Each of the chefs has been demanding in his own way, despite the things they have in common. The things they have in common include a passion for the art and craft of French pastry; an absolute insistence on cleanliness (which I love; even though I'm not good enough to work as cleanly as I'd like, I have every intention of instituting those principles in my shop); and a real interest in teaching us, provided only that we actually want to learn, which most of us do. I think it's been an adjustment for each of them, in different ways, to make the switch from a hotel or restaurant to teaching.
I'm guessing that, in a hotel or restaurant kitchen, a chef might take someone under his or her wing if the person showed promise of some kind, for example, or if s/he was enthusiastic, and, of course, the chef must also want to share what s/he knows--but none of these things is necessary, and a chef might very well focus on production and not be interested in novices like many of us. That is, it would have been difficult for me to get any kind of job as a pastry chef or assistant, given my near-total lack of experience, and it's pretty much impossible that I'd be able to find a position where I could learn all of the things I've been learning here. Any good place of employment would have many people ahead of me, people who have culinary school educations and experience I don't have.
This setup enables people like me to take a crash course and then, with the help of the chefs, find places where we can hone our skills further, in the direction we'd like to go. The chefs have connections all over the world, and the school has a good reputation, both of which help overcome the many-people-want-this-position problem. I don't want restaurant work, for sure, and I probably don't want hotel work, either, unless the chefs think it would be particularly useful for me, so that helps me focus, and other people are similarly focused. (Some really want to do wedding cakes, for example, the thought of which makes me break out in hives. Some want to work in restaurants. Some want to move to other cities or countries.)
Anyway, today we made a pistachio dacquoise (remember that a dacquoise is a meringue--whipped egg whites--with sugar and nut flour(s) folded into it), an apricot-passion-fruit gelee, some apricot glaze, two sablee dough shells (we didn't get to do those, as the only sablee dough left was too soft to work with, so we'll do it tomorrow), and each of us made an inverted puff pastry recipe and put four turns in the dough. Inverted puff pastry is a trip--the butter layer is on the outside of it! It's not as difficult to do as I thought it would be, but still. Tomorrow I think we finish lemon tarts. In addition, I was supposed to give a presentation today, but we ran out of time, so I'm scheduled to do it tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes.
We switched chefs and partners today, and both will be fine. This chef (let's call him Tom) is also quite interesting. Each of the chefs has been demanding in his own way, despite the things they have in common. The things they have in common include a passion for the art and craft of French pastry; an absolute insistence on cleanliness (which I love; even though I'm not good enough to work as cleanly as I'd like, I have every intention of instituting those principles in my shop); and a real interest in teaching us, provided only that we actually want to learn, which most of us do. I think it's been an adjustment for each of them, in different ways, to make the switch from a hotel or restaurant to teaching.
I'm guessing that, in a hotel or restaurant kitchen, a chef might take someone under his or her wing if the person showed promise of some kind, for example, or if s/he was enthusiastic, and, of course, the chef must also want to share what s/he knows--but none of these things is necessary, and a chef might very well focus on production and not be interested in novices like many of us. That is, it would have been difficult for me to get any kind of job as a pastry chef or assistant, given my near-total lack of experience, and it's pretty much impossible that I'd be able to find a position where I could learn all of the things I've been learning here. Any good place of employment would have many people ahead of me, people who have culinary school educations and experience I don't have.
This setup enables people like me to take a crash course and then, with the help of the chefs, find places where we can hone our skills further, in the direction we'd like to go. The chefs have connections all over the world, and the school has a good reputation, both of which help overcome the many-people-want-this-position problem. I don't want restaurant work, for sure, and I probably don't want hotel work, either, unless the chefs think it would be particularly useful for me, so that helps me focus, and other people are similarly focused. (Some really want to do wedding cakes, for example, the thought of which makes me break out in hives. Some want to work in restaurants. Some want to move to other cities or countries.)
Anyway, today we made a pistachio dacquoise (remember that a dacquoise is a meringue--whipped egg whites--with sugar and nut flour(s) folded into it), an apricot-passion-fruit gelee, some apricot glaze, two sablee dough shells (we didn't get to do those, as the only sablee dough left was too soft to work with, so we'll do it tomorrow), and each of us made an inverted puff pastry recipe and put four turns in the dough. Inverted puff pastry is a trip--the butter layer is on the outside of it! It's not as difficult to do as I thought it would be, but still. Tomorrow I think we finish lemon tarts. In addition, I was supposed to give a presentation today, but we ran out of time, so I'm scheduled to do it tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes.
Previous Posts
- Sticky Pecan Goodness
- Merry Happy
- Seventeen
- I, Too, Blame the Patriarchy
- The Last Day
- It's Not My Job
- Funny how?
- Gods? What gods?
- Cakes, Tarts, Ice Cream and Whatever
- Are there female orcs? or: What counts as women's work in Middle Earth?
Links (in no particular order)
- Float
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- Patriarchy-blaming (Twisty)
- Bitch. Ph.D.
- One Good Thing
- Badger
- Fables of the Reconstruction
- TBogg
- Tom Tomorrow
- Shades of Grey
- Echidne
- Suburban Guerilla
- Finslippy
- bellatrys
- Mythago
- Misbehaving
- Digby
- Ann
- James Wolcott
- Gwen
- WTF WOULD Jesus do?
- SJ & her boogers
- Pops
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- Archives
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