The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly
Wah, it’s Monday, let me cry about how much it sucks, especially after such an amazing weekend filled w/ all these food and drink pictures #woeisme
Unlike 100% of the people whining all over my Facebook feed at the start of every week, Mondays don’t bother me that much (probably b/c they’re technically my Hump Day). They do have a twisted sense of humor, though. I was cruising through work today, only an hour or so left, when I unwisely decided to attempt a project I had no business attempting. The moral of the story:
don’t touch hot caramel I won’t be the next Top Chef anytime soon. But my time in the kitchen has been nothing if not educational; here’s the skinny so far:
Following orders. I’m not ashamed to admit that I enjoy following orders; I don’t need to “be my own boss.” I prefer someone else to be in charge, the bossier the better. Please, tell me what to do. When I’m finished w/ that task, tell me what to do next. You want me to take initiative? Sure, I can do that. Just tell me where to start.
Prep lists. Anyone who writes a to-do list just to cross things off of it will know what I’m talking about. I go into work every day and there’s literally a whole list of stuff to do. Sometimes I get through it all, sometimes I
burn shit don’t. But a whole list? Telling me what to do? That I can draw lines through as I complete? Bees. Knees.
Tangible results. When I worked in an office, I could spend days working on a project, only to pass it off to someone else and never see it again. I might not have a lot going for me, but I’m damn proud of my work ethic, and I like to take ownership of that work. Working on a recipe from start to finish is pretty much the best way to do this, ever. Cookies. Pies. Ice Cream sammies. Seeing the work I do sitting on the table or in the market just doesn’t get old for me. Which brings me to my last, and probably favorite:
Making other people happy. I know what you’re thinking; da fuck? Did she just write that, Brig, Miss People-Annoy-the-Shit-Outta-Me-Most-of-the-Time herself ? But that’s just it; people annoy the shit outta me most of the time, but the rest of the time, I’m actually desperate for the approval of these people. Nothing makes people love you more than bread pudding and buttery brioche can.
The hours. I never knew how good I had it w/ the whole Monday-Friday, 8-5 thing until, well, it was gone. Gone are my lazy Sundays and long holiday weekends. If you want to work in a bakery? Forget sleeping in. Ever. I don’t have the 4:15 wake-up call anymore, but I work full days on what most people call the weekend. As much as it begrudges me to admit when Brent is right, when he tells me it sucks that we can’t start our beach trips and day drinking until the afternoon, I have to agree.
Being anal. So I’m not anal in the OCD perfectionist way that makes a great cake decorator; I’m just anal as hell about my station. “My station” meaning the entirety of the pastry kitchen and our space in the refrigerator and freezers. So when I spend an hour organizing the drawers to see them go right back to the clusterfuck they were before, I go a little nuts. When someone takes the last of the room temperature butter and I have to deal w/ it straight out of the refrigerator, I go a lot nuts #kitchennightmares
No finesse. Sometimes I get discouraged and think that I’m never going to be as good as Rose Levy Barenbaum. Or that girl I saw on Cupcake Wars that one time. And then I’m like, hey, stop beating yourself up, you’ve only been doing this for a few months. So I talk myself off the ledge by reminding myself that so much of this field is practice. But then I think about the finesse. The X factor. The “eye” for this type of thing that all chefs have…that I don’t. I’ve never been crafty, or DIY, or even interested in baking and cooking until recently. I can’t help but wonder if I’m ever going to look like I belong in the kitchen.
Instead of scaring you w/ the scars, burns and cuts I’ve inflicted upon myself this past year, I decided to thoroughly embarrass myself w/ some of my top creations. You're welcome.
Did I frost these cupcakes w/ my bare hands?
I clearly didn't have a rolling pin, but was I blind, too? That's not even close to looking like a pizza.
Croqu-M-Gee this is just awful