I find it hilarious when my co-workers, who insist that they don't speak English, sing along perfectly to Katy Perry songs when they come on the radio.
It is definitely interesting now that I work in a predominantly Spanish speaking workplace, and by "interesting," I mean 30% hilarious, 45% frustrating, 20% confusing and 5% increase of burritos eaten while at work. I have one new co-worker, "The Whistler", who I sometimes think likes me but most of the time I'm pretty sure he hates me. When I ask him for something he has this frustrating tendency to look at me like I just ran over his dog. Dave doesn't think I can tell if someone likes me or not when there's such a big language barrier in the way, but I disagree. You can't deny those looks. Sometimes, if I'm using something that he decides he needs to use (and of course his needs are more important than mine), he will literally walk over to my station, take it out of my hand and walk away! It doesn't happen often, but it's so shocking when it does that I really don't know how to respond. After all, I can't yell at him when he, "doesn't understand me." Although I get the feeling that he actually has selective understanding of language, because when the two bosses (brothers) talk to him in Spanish, he claims not to understand them either so go figure.
I call him The Whistler because, well, he has a tendency to whistle shrilly or sing what I can only assume are mournfully sad Spanish songs for upwards of 6 to 7 hours a day. It's pushed me to the brink of insanity so often, that I've taken to keeping my iPod in my shirt pocket every day and as soon as he starts going I immediately plug in. I don't really want to tune the whole bakery out because I think that you can miss a lot that way, but its so bad that I'm afraid I might eventually snap so maybe being a little clueless is acceptable for retaining what little sanity I may have left.
As I mentioned before, my two bosses are brothers, which is interesting because they couldn't be more different in their managing style. They never actually work together (and I can see why), instead they each take turns running the business every other day Monday through Saturday. I feel like it might be weird to run a business with your family member without actually working together, but at the same time, who wouldn't jump at the chance to have your own business where you only have to show up 3 days a week? I tend to get along with each of them fairly well, which is lucky since they and their parents (who run another wholesale bakery at the same location) are the only ones who speak English as a first language; but, like I said, they are very different. The first couple of hours in the work day are always the worst, that's when we have to get all of our immediate work done to go out on the delivery trucks. The one brother, J, seems to be able to take this in stride, figuring out ways to get things done. However, C is one of those people who feels that lots of yelling and harassment are the best way to get work out of people. Needless to say (but I will, because this is my blog), it can be very stressful. For example, here is a real conversation that took place between myself and J (Mr. Calm). I had just dropped a gingerbread house piece that needed to go out that morning (an actual piece that would make up the house, apparently they were putting it together themselves). I started to freak out and was apologizing vehemently, expecting to have an example made out of me in front of everyone:
J: Is this the part where I'm supposed to freak out? Do you want me to do it now, or later?
B: Um...later is good.
J: Okay, how soon can you get me a new piece?
B: Well I'd have to make another batch of dough...
J: Okay, can you get it to me within an hour?
And off I ran to make some new gingerbread dough, I don't think I've ever made it faster in my life. As I was handing him the newly boxed piece, he said:
J: Were you just trying to test your packing job? Seeing if it would break or not?
B: I'd actually given it a little shake before to see if it sounded secure, but no, I didn't drop it on purpose.
J: Because you know, we usually try not to throw our boxes on the floor, even for testing purposes.
B: Well...science is important... (to which he laughed)
Not so bad, right? On the other hand, we were super-crazy busy on Thursday when I was working with C (Cranky McShortpants), and 300 decorated cookies had to go out. Unfortunately, the ladies who make the cookies hadn't gotten them ready to be decorated until that morning and just because they kept saying "cookies" to me as I walked by didn't mean that I didn't also have 20 other things to do on my list, in addition to other people making me do things that also had to be done by 6am. I got started on them as soon as I could, with the ladies yelling at me, constantly throwing different trays in front of me, deciding apparently on a whim, which ones were more important than others. Then C comes by and starts yelling about why they're not done yet. Of course the ladies blame me and I got pissed so I told him exactly what I told you, not that it really matters in the end. He just yelled and paced behind us until they got done, constantly asking other people why they weren't helping, etc.
I wound up being there for 11 hours that day, and it was so bad, and I was so terrified that Friday would be just as busy that I wound up volunteering to come in on Saturday. You see, there are these macaroons, and man do I hate the macaroons. The batch makes a huge amount, and the recipe they use makes a really stiff dough, so it's always really hard on my hand having to pipe all of them out. Anyway, they're not something that companies order every day, but when they do they always order a minimum of 20lbs and sometimes as much as 60lbs. I knew that I only had 15lbs left over from my last batch and there was no way I was going to have time to make more on Thursday. Because I was so worried that Friday was going to be more of the same, I stupidly volunteered to come in on Saturday to "just make macaroons." C of course said no problem and I consoled myself with how I was being such a good, proactive employee. Plus Dave was going to be out of town this weekend anyway, so it's not like I'd be screwing up our time together. Then C comes back and says, "So you're definitely coming in on Saturday, right?" I said yes, warily, and with good reason because then he tells me that he's decided to give someone else that day off because why not just have me do their work too? Awesome. Sure. So of course, Friday ends up being nothing like Thursday (probably b/c I was working with Mr. Calm instead) and I wind up not only making the macaroons, but making them in record time. This amused by boss immensely because, as he pointed out to me, I'd now volunteered to come in on a Saturday for no reason. Saturday really didn't wind up being so bad as its their slowest day of the week (this is what happens when almost all of your clients are corporations), but no one likes going to work at 3am when they normally wouldn't have to. Blergh.
What's amusing to me, is that on Friday their Dad walked by my station and said, "Today sure is different than yesterday..." to which I laughingly responded that yes, it was, thinking that he was just talking about the workload. Then he says, "My sons are pretty different from each other, wouldn't you say?" He then asked me if I noticed that their Mom only comes in on the days that Mr. Calm is working. I actually hadn't noticed and he laughed saying that she never comes in to work in the office when Cranky McShortpants is there. His own Mom won't even come in because he's so crazy. Kind of funny, kind of sad, eh?
By the way, I made my first personal baked goods sale over Thanksgiving! A friend of ours asked me if I could make her a lattice-topped cherry pie to bring to her holiday celebration and apparently it went over gangbusters. Anyone want to start placing their orders for next year?
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Long Time, No Blog
Hi friends!
I'm sorry that it's been so long since I last updated this blog (2 months!), but I must admit that I was ashamed to let you know what was going on in my life at the time. I'd had several things that I wanted to talk to you about regarding life in the bakery; ridiculous, annoying and funny things. Then, however, everything in my world got turned upside down.
Toward the beginning of October I was in my 2nd month of work at the bakery and while things weren't going exactly as I thought they would (they never do) I was more or less happy with life. Even though the schedule was never set in stone, I was usually off on Thursdays and Fridays and had settled into more or less of a rhythm. Then on October 8th I got a phone call early in the morning from HR, apologizing for bothering me on my day off, but could I stop in some time that day because the new Operations Director wanted to have a meeting with me. I thought this was odd and I was a little nervous, but I never really expected what was about to happen. I went in around noon, sat down with the Director and the woman from HR joined us, never a good sign. They had called me in to tell me that they were letting me go, I was in shock. I knew that things were stressful around the bakery but I had no idea that my work ethic was going to be called into question. They told me that I was just too slow to work there, and that they really liked me and would be happy to recommend me to anyone, but that they couldn't keep me on anymore. Now I know that I'm not the fastest person in the world, but I was by no means the slowest person on staff. There was one guy who I like to call Mr. KIT (Mr. Know-it-all) who was eventually restricted to just being a mixer because when he was on the floor with the rest of us he was so slow it bordered on the insane. And if you dared to give him any suggestions he would get very defensive and start sniping about how he would get it eventually, and to stop badgering him. As far as I know, he's still employed, but I suppose that's neither here nor there and it doesn't do to dwell on these kind of perceived injustices.
I cleaned out my locker and left, all the while trying to hold my head high and not let on to anyone else who had seen me enter and exit that I was in any kind of distress. I eventually was able to make contact with some of my now former co-workers online and it's good to know that I can still count them as my friends. One was on injured leave at the time and told me that it was for the best as he was unhappy with how things were run there to begin with. The other has been a wonderful source of comfort, telling me how much the guys there miss me and how she wishes I was still there because it's lonely being the only woman on the floor. She even told me that my "waka waka" friend has taken to berating her with the phrase, and seems to be as amused by her refusal to respond with "mole mole" as he was when I would. Now he apparently does this to her all the time, and every time she's doesn't say anything, he just laughs and says, "Oh shit!"
I have some of my own theories about why I was let go, but it would be imprudent to discuss them with you right now. The good news is that I found another job, and within less than a week of being fired from the first bakery. I'm now working for a pastry shop in the Bronx and I can honestly say that I'm better off. Sure, there are things that I don't like, for example the hours suck! I'm usually there anywhere between 3am and 1pm which has me on a reverse sleep schedule that isn't working out so well right now. Also, I'm literally the only native English speaker there aside from the owners, and unlike at my previous job, most of my new co-workers have very little if any English in their vocabulary at all. However, there are a lot of pluses to my new employment. I work Monday to Friday (hello weekends!) and as long as you finish your work, you can leave when it's done, meaning that sometimes I can leave early. Also, we always get out by 11am on Fridays and the pay is better due to my maternally inherited negotiating skills. It's also right over the bridge from where Dave and I live in Queens, so I can drive there within 10-15 minutes every day, as opposed to taking the subway for an hour at sketchy times of the morning/night. It sucks having to pay the bridge tolls every day, but we have ez-pass so we get a discount, plus I use so little gas now that it kind of evens itself out in the end. Also, I seem to have found the only food service job in NYC that not only gives us off for Thanksgiving, but also the day after which means that the hubby and I will be skipping town for the comfort of WNY early in the afternoon on Wednesday.
All in all, things are looking up for us and I promise to share all the coming highs and lows with you. Because really, what's real in life if you don't share it with strangers on the internet? Speaking of which...I was looking through the stats on my blog and apparently I have an unexpectedly strong European following. I have 3 times as many readers from Luxembourg as I do from Canada, and apparently there are a lot of Latvians that are strangely fond of a picture of my husband smelling a loaf of sourdough bread. So I'd like to give a spirited hello to my readers in Luxembourg, Russia and Latvia - I'd love to hear from you if you're so inclined to leave a comment.
And because this is a blog about baking, here are some pictures of the periodic table birthday cake that I made for my husband:
I'm sorry that it's been so long since I last updated this blog (2 months!), but I must admit that I was ashamed to let you know what was going on in my life at the time. I'd had several things that I wanted to talk to you about regarding life in the bakery; ridiculous, annoying and funny things. Then, however, everything in my world got turned upside down.
Toward the beginning of October I was in my 2nd month of work at the bakery and while things weren't going exactly as I thought they would (they never do) I was more or less happy with life. Even though the schedule was never set in stone, I was usually off on Thursdays and Fridays and had settled into more or less of a rhythm. Then on October 8th I got a phone call early in the morning from HR, apologizing for bothering me on my day off, but could I stop in some time that day because the new Operations Director wanted to have a meeting with me. I thought this was odd and I was a little nervous, but I never really expected what was about to happen. I went in around noon, sat down with the Director and the woman from HR joined us, never a good sign. They had called me in to tell me that they were letting me go, I was in shock. I knew that things were stressful around the bakery but I had no idea that my work ethic was going to be called into question. They told me that I was just too slow to work there, and that they really liked me and would be happy to recommend me to anyone, but that they couldn't keep me on anymore. Now I know that I'm not the fastest person in the world, but I was by no means the slowest person on staff. There was one guy who I like to call Mr. KIT (Mr. Know-it-all) who was eventually restricted to just being a mixer because when he was on the floor with the rest of us he was so slow it bordered on the insane. And if you dared to give him any suggestions he would get very defensive and start sniping about how he would get it eventually, and to stop badgering him. As far as I know, he's still employed, but I suppose that's neither here nor there and it doesn't do to dwell on these kind of perceived injustices.
I cleaned out my locker and left, all the while trying to hold my head high and not let on to anyone else who had seen me enter and exit that I was in any kind of distress. I eventually was able to make contact with some of my now former co-workers online and it's good to know that I can still count them as my friends. One was on injured leave at the time and told me that it was for the best as he was unhappy with how things were run there to begin with. The other has been a wonderful source of comfort, telling me how much the guys there miss me and how she wishes I was still there because it's lonely being the only woman on the floor. She even told me that my "waka waka" friend has taken to berating her with the phrase, and seems to be as amused by her refusal to respond with "mole mole" as he was when I would. Now he apparently does this to her all the time, and every time she's doesn't say anything, he just laughs and says, "Oh shit!"
I have some of my own theories about why I was let go, but it would be imprudent to discuss them with you right now. The good news is that I found another job, and within less than a week of being fired from the first bakery. I'm now working for a pastry shop in the Bronx and I can honestly say that I'm better off. Sure, there are things that I don't like, for example the hours suck! I'm usually there anywhere between 3am and 1pm which has me on a reverse sleep schedule that isn't working out so well right now. Also, I'm literally the only native English speaker there aside from the owners, and unlike at my previous job, most of my new co-workers have very little if any English in their vocabulary at all. However, there are a lot of pluses to my new employment. I work Monday to Friday (hello weekends!) and as long as you finish your work, you can leave when it's done, meaning that sometimes I can leave early. Also, we always get out by 11am on Fridays and the pay is better due to my maternally inherited negotiating skills. It's also right over the bridge from where Dave and I live in Queens, so I can drive there within 10-15 minutes every day, as opposed to taking the subway for an hour at sketchy times of the morning/night. It sucks having to pay the bridge tolls every day, but we have ez-pass so we get a discount, plus I use so little gas now that it kind of evens itself out in the end. Also, I seem to have found the only food service job in NYC that not only gives us off for Thanksgiving, but also the day after which means that the hubby and I will be skipping town for the comfort of WNY early in the afternoon on Wednesday.
All in all, things are looking up for us and I promise to share all the coming highs and lows with you. Because really, what's real in life if you don't share it with strangers on the internet? Speaking of which...I was looking through the stats on my blog and apparently I have an unexpectedly strong European following. I have 3 times as many readers from Luxembourg as I do from Canada, and apparently there are a lot of Latvians that are strangely fond of a picture of my husband smelling a loaf of sourdough bread. So I'd like to give a spirited hello to my readers in Luxembourg, Russia and Latvia - I'd love to hear from you if you're so inclined to leave a comment.
And because this is a blog about baking, here are some pictures of the periodic table birthday cake that I made for my husband:
Science is Delicious!
Can you name (and eat) all of the elements?
Monday, September 27, 2010
Birthdays and Rules to Live By
True story: the other night, while working at the bakery, I serenaded one of my co-workers with "Eternal Flame" when it came on the radio. Shock value = 7/10
So I've been thinking about coming up with my own set of rules or guidelines for working in a bakery. Granted, many of them may be focused toward the female employee, but I'm a girl, so I guess that's to be expected. And on that note, here are the first two on what will become Brooke's rules for happy bakery employees:
Rule #1: Wash your hands before AND after you go to the bathroom. Seriously, because when I'm working my hands are constantly caked in flour and dough bits, and I don't know about you, but I don't want to get either of those things near my lady parts. Every time I think about it, it just brings this back into my mind: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twkV_xXPMvI
Rule #2: If you're constantly being made to use the dough divider to make the rolls on your work shift, do not tell your co-worker that you're on "ball patrol." Believe it or not, I am not the one who said this, rather it was said to me, and I had to stop working for a couple of minutes because I couldn't stop laughing. The next day the same co-worker saw me using the divider and asked me if I was on "boule patrol" (boule is a term used for a rounded loaf of dough, which is how we shape larger amounts of it before putting it into the divider). I concurred that I was, indeed, on boule patrol, and he said, "it sounds a lot better than when I say 'ball patrol', right?" So true.
Work has been interesting lately. I'm pretty well adjusted to being one of only 2 girls working as a bread baker as well as to working mostly with men who don't speak English as a second language. My Mom bought me a set of Spanish immersion CDs which I'm looking forward to using, but until then, my Spanish is still incredibly rudimentary. At time I feel like I'm living in some alternate "Smurf" reality, where everyone uses the same word for everything and anything, in this case it's, "claro" which from what I understand means, "clear" or "exactly". Yes, my co-workers will use this for it's proper meaning, for example if I ask one of them if I have something right, they will respond with claro, but they'll use it for everything under the sun. If they want your attention? Claro. If they're teasing you? Claro. If they want you to start doing something differently? Claro. If they want you to do something the same way you've been doing it, again, claro. You can see how this would be confusing, yes? (Claro!) Also, there's this song that they sometimes play on the Spanish radio stations, and the chorus goes, "waka waka...mole mole." So one time I sang along with it and now one of my co-workers will randomly yell, "waka waka" and wait for me to say, "mole mole!" and if I don't, he will assume that I "didn't hear him" and will follow me around repeating "waka waka" until I respond appropriately. I am definitely living in a cartoon.
Dave and I had a great time being back in Buffalo for my birthday. It was a fun-filled weekend of driving, exhaustion, fasting (here's to being born around Yom Kippur!), birthdaying and babies. Luckily we were able to see a lot of people, and spend time with most of our family members, especially since it had been 9 months since we'd seen most of them. All of it just really makes me wish we were living back in Buffalo already. I know that we're planning on getting back there in the future, but as with anything you want, it's always hard to wait for your plans to come to fruition. Plus, just being able to hang out in the same room with my hubby and my sister Morgan is always a great time. It's like we're in this never ending contest trying to make each other laugh and then my Mom will eventually throw her hands up in the air and say that it's like she's living in an improv show. It was also fun to see some of my friend's kids, I can't believe how quickly they're growing up, I can't even really call them babies anymore seeing as they're all pretty much toddlers. It's nice to see that they're already learning to ignore football games in favor of toys though...being a Bills fan is rough stuff, no matter what age you are.
p.s. I also want to send special thanks to all of my friends who conspired to make me a ridiculous amount of bandannas/hair-kerchiefs. I love them all, and they greatly amuse my co-workers.
So I've been thinking about coming up with my own set of rules or guidelines for working in a bakery. Granted, many of them may be focused toward the female employee, but I'm a girl, so I guess that's to be expected. And on that note, here are the first two on what will become Brooke's rules for happy bakery employees:
Rule #1: Wash your hands before AND after you go to the bathroom. Seriously, because when I'm working my hands are constantly caked in flour and dough bits, and I don't know about you, but I don't want to get either of those things near my lady parts. Every time I think about it, it just brings this back into my mind: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twkV_xXPMvI
Rule #2: If you're constantly being made to use the dough divider to make the rolls on your work shift, do not tell your co-worker that you're on "ball patrol." Believe it or not, I am not the one who said this, rather it was said to me, and I had to stop working for a couple of minutes because I couldn't stop laughing. The next day the same co-worker saw me using the divider and asked me if I was on "boule patrol" (boule is a term used for a rounded loaf of dough, which is how we shape larger amounts of it before putting it into the divider). I concurred that I was, indeed, on boule patrol, and he said, "it sounds a lot better than when I say 'ball patrol', right?" So true.
Work has been interesting lately. I'm pretty well adjusted to being one of only 2 girls working as a bread baker as well as to working mostly with men who don't speak English as a second language. My Mom bought me a set of Spanish immersion CDs which I'm looking forward to using, but until then, my Spanish is still incredibly rudimentary. At time I feel like I'm living in some alternate "Smurf" reality, where everyone uses the same word for everything and anything, in this case it's, "claro" which from what I understand means, "clear" or "exactly". Yes, my co-workers will use this for it's proper meaning, for example if I ask one of them if I have something right, they will respond with claro, but they'll use it for everything under the sun. If they want your attention? Claro. If they're teasing you? Claro. If they want you to start doing something differently? Claro. If they want you to do something the same way you've been doing it, again, claro. You can see how this would be confusing, yes? (Claro!) Also, there's this song that they sometimes play on the Spanish radio stations, and the chorus goes, "waka waka...mole mole." So one time I sang along with it and now one of my co-workers will randomly yell, "waka waka" and wait for me to say, "mole mole!" and if I don't, he will assume that I "didn't hear him" and will follow me around repeating "waka waka" until I respond appropriately. I am definitely living in a cartoon.
Dave and I had a great time being back in Buffalo for my birthday. It was a fun-filled weekend of driving, exhaustion, fasting (here's to being born around Yom Kippur!), birthdaying and babies. Luckily we were able to see a lot of people, and spend time with most of our family members, especially since it had been 9 months since we'd seen most of them. All of it just really makes me wish we were living back in Buffalo already. I know that we're planning on getting back there in the future, but as with anything you want, it's always hard to wait for your plans to come to fruition. Plus, just being able to hang out in the same room with my hubby and my sister Morgan is always a great time. It's like we're in this never ending contest trying to make each other laugh and then my Mom will eventually throw her hands up in the air and say that it's like she's living in an improv show. It was also fun to see some of my friend's kids, I can't believe how quickly they're growing up, I can't even really call them babies anymore seeing as they're all pretty much toddlers. It's nice to see that they're already learning to ignore football games in favor of toys though...being a Bills fan is rough stuff, no matter what age you are.
p.s. I also want to send special thanks to all of my friends who conspired to make me a ridiculous amount of bandannas/hair-kerchiefs. I love them all, and they greatly amuse my co-workers.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Holidays, Cakes and Crocs
Last night I worked my first holiday shift and my first shift at a later hour (for me anyway) - 6pm - 2am on Labor Day. Not one of the bigger holidays, but it still gives me time and a half for hours worked so I'm a happy girl. I thought it was going to be really hard starting work 2 hours later (and by extension, leaving 2 hours later), but it really didn't affect me that badly. Actually, I think it was a better night for me than usual. Maybe it was because I was joining a group that was already going strong as opposed to being one of the ones starting up at 4pm. Ironically, it also took me less time to get home, leaving work at 2am, than it usually does when I leave at midnight. This was even with me having to wait for my 17-year-old co-worker to finish changing because he wanted to walk me to the train. I thought it was very sweet that he was worried about me, but by the time I got to the train, I had a feeling that he really just wanted to use the walk to remind me over and over again that I promised to lend him some DVDs. Oh well, it was still pretty sweet.
Today I’m working from 5pm till 1am, and I’m still trying to adjust to this new life as a baker. It takes a huge toll on my body and my emotions are always close to the surface these days. I’m still very interested in learning more about cakes, especially structure and design-wise, and sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice for a first job. Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for the job, and I know that it’s a great experience for me, it’s just that it’s so frustrating knowing that any cake places want at least 1-2 years of cake decorating experience, and yet no one will hire you to give you that experience. I’ve also been toying with the idea of trying to do more on my own (cakes, pastries, etc) as a way to keep my skill-set up and teach myself new things so that when I do decide to move on I won’t just be all about bread. I’ve even been thinking of videotaping my attempts and posting them online. Any thoughts? Would you be interested in watching those/seeing my ridiculous attempts?
p.s. A big thank you to my lovely sister Morgan for visiting me this past weekend! I hate that I couldn’t spend more time with you while you were here, but it was wonderful to see you, even if it was only for a few hours at a time
Today I’m working from 5pm till 1am, and I’m still trying to adjust to this new life as a baker. It takes a huge toll on my body and my emotions are always close to the surface these days. I’m still very interested in learning more about cakes, especially structure and design-wise, and sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice for a first job. Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for the job, and I know that it’s a great experience for me, it’s just that it’s so frustrating knowing that any cake places want at least 1-2 years of cake decorating experience, and yet no one will hire you to give you that experience. I’ve also been toying with the idea of trying to do more on my own (cakes, pastries, etc) as a way to keep my skill-set up and teach myself new things so that when I do decide to move on I won’t just be all about bread. I’ve even been thinking of videotaping my attempts and posting them online. Any thoughts? Would you be interested in watching those/seeing my ridiculous attempts?
Oh, and I finally got some new footwear – a pair of crocs. I didn’t cave and buy them on my own, the bakery is supposed to provide everyone who works there with a pair (makes sense since they technically require you to wear them), however I still hadn’t gotten any as of a couple of days ago. Then, one of my co-workers was having her last day and asked if I had gotten a pair yet. When I told her no, she asked what size I was. As it turns out, they had bought her a pair that she had never worn because she doesn’t like crocs and has her own shoes that she prefers to wear, and we’re the same size so she gave them to me. The only twist on this situation is that they’re yellow. Bright, banana yellow. This isn’t a problem for me, because as far as I’m concerned, crocs are ridiculous shoes, and I think that any shoe that is that ridiculous should only come in crazy, bright colors. However, all of my co-workers seem to be highly amused that I’m wearing yellow crocs. They keep pointing them out, and ask if I’m trying to “make a statement” by wearing shoes that bright. I just keep telling them that the only statement I’m making is that I like free shoes.
Tomorrow night is the beginning of Rosh Hashanah and I couldn’t be more excited. It’s always been one of my favorite holidays, and not just because it sometimes coincides with my birthday. Dave and I will be having a quite dinner, just the two of us tomorrow night, and then Thursday morning we’ll be off to visit our favorite Rabbi in Westchester for services before coming home to make a big dinner for some of our friends. I hope that you all have a wonderful and sweet new year. Shana Tovah!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Work, Exhaustion and the Flour Ninjas
It's been a crazy couple of weeks over here in NY. I officially started my new job at the bakery on August 18th and have been working like a madwoman ever since. That first week I only worked two days, one with the bread bakers and one with the pastry team because I was still finishing out my final 2 weeks at the veterinarians office. However, last week I officially started full-time on the 25th and have worked every day since. This doesn't sound so bad except that weeks at the bakery are scheduled from Monday through Sunday. So, since I started on Wednesday, to work a full week I worked every day through Sunday = 5 days. Then on Friday they put up the schedule for the next week (starting today) and I'm working Monday through Wednesday with Thursday & Friday off, and then again on Saturday and Sunday. That doesn't sound too bad until you realize it means that you're working 8 days in a row, and friends let me tell you, I am exhausted!!! I'm still getting used to how physically intensive this job is and I'll be starting day 6 in a row tonight. My whole body is sore, plus flour has now become like sand after you leave the beach - it somehow gets everywhere, and even when you think you've cleaned yourself off completely and changed clothes - there's still flour! I'll wear one outfit on my way to the bakery, change into my work clothes, come back to change after working my shift and somehow the clothes I wore on my way into work will already have flour on them. I think flour ninjas break into my locker at work while I'm downstairs just to smear flour on everything. I'm not crazy - I will bet $5 and a loaf of sourdough bread that there are flour ninjas....oh man, I think I am going crazy *sigh*
So yes, I started out almost 2 weeks ago and everything went fairly well. Like I said, it's really labor intensive work, but I think I'm managing it alright so far. After all, I haven't cried OR thrown up so far from the stress...I know you're impressed, you don't have to say anything, I just know. Of course this being me, my first day couldn't go off completely without a hitch. For whatever reason, they couldn't assign me a locker on my first day, so I had to put my bag on top of the lockers. I've since switched to carrying an old NYSC backpack, but that first day I was so nervous that I'd forgotten to switch all of my stuff out of my regular purse. So I go about my work shift and get told I can clock out, only to find that when someone else had opened their locker, my purse strap had fallen over the side and either they hadn't noticed or didn't care, because they closed their locker door on the strap and lo-and-behold, I couldn't get my purse out! I was so embarrassed having to go back downstairs to tell my supervisor that I couldn't leave because my purse was stuck in someone else's locker. Three other people tried to yank it loose and finally one of the other guys came in wielding a gigantic pair of bolt-cutters, said, "to hell with this!" and cut the person's lock off! They all assured me that it wasn't my fault, plus the company has extra locks so it all works out in the end. It was just ridiculous to me that my good first day could be taken down by my damn purse strap.
I'm still having trouble adjusting to my new schedule. It's a lot harder than I expected to get used to going to work at the end of my day as opposed to the beginning. I'm so used to waking up, getting ready and even if I'm not totally with it yet, heading off to work and being ready to go by the time I get there and taking care of my own stuff later when I finally get home. Now I have to start organizing my own day better so that I can get up, try and be productive at home in the morning because I don't leave for work until about 3pm. I'm also trying to force myself to go to sleep as soon as I get home (around 1:15am), but this is a lot harder than you might think. Even though I might be physically worn out from work, my brain is still whizzing and it takes me a good hour to relax, calm down and be ready for bed. This also makes it a lot harder on Dave and I, because when I'm working so many days in a row, we don't really see each other at all except for when he wakes me up to say goodbye in the morning before he leaves for work, or if he manages to stay awake long enough to see me come home at the end of my shift. We've been able to see each other a little more over the weekend since he doesn't have work, but since my body's still adjusting to the amount of work I'm doing, I wound up sleeping through most of the morning. I'm very lucky that he's so supportive though, and I know he definitely understands that my schedule's going to be pretty wonky for a while, but it's still really hard, and I miss him a lot. I'm hoping that after the high holidays are over that I won't be working for more than 5 days in a row at a time, but I guess we'll have to wait and see.
On a more amusing note, I forgot how much fun it was to people-watch on the subways. It's been so long since I've ridden the train enough to have a monthly pass, but now that I do, I get to see a lot more of the other commuters. I'm sure I'm no site to behold at the end of a long shift, but some of this stuff is just too funny. I saw a guy on my way into the city wearing an ankle monitoring bracelet, riding the train with his girlfriend (she could do better) and some hipster who, at 1 o'clock in the morning was doing nothing but playing some game on his iphone and every 30 seconds adjusting a different piece of his hair to ensure that it was strategically and deliberately messy - get a comb you idiot!
Oh! I almost forgot, I have a request for all of my lovely blog readers. Send me bandannas! I quickly realized that wearing baseball caps at work was kind of uncomfortable for me, plus, every time I went to wipe flour off of my face (damn flour!) I just got it all over the brim of my hat. Then I noticed that most of the girls wore bandannas - genius! The only problem being that I didn't think I had any. I managed to find one, that I'm pretty sure was part of a pirate-themed birthday present from my friend Erica from several years ago, but it's the only one I have. So if you would feel so inclined to send me bandannas, I will wear them with pride.
So yes, I started out almost 2 weeks ago and everything went fairly well. Like I said, it's really labor intensive work, but I think I'm managing it alright so far. After all, I haven't cried OR thrown up so far from the stress...I know you're impressed, you don't have to say anything, I just know. Of course this being me, my first day couldn't go off completely without a hitch. For whatever reason, they couldn't assign me a locker on my first day, so I had to put my bag on top of the lockers. I've since switched to carrying an old NYSC backpack, but that first day I was so nervous that I'd forgotten to switch all of my stuff out of my regular purse. So I go about my work shift and get told I can clock out, only to find that when someone else had opened their locker, my purse strap had fallen over the side and either they hadn't noticed or didn't care, because they closed their locker door on the strap and lo-and-behold, I couldn't get my purse out! I was so embarrassed having to go back downstairs to tell my supervisor that I couldn't leave because my purse was stuck in someone else's locker. Three other people tried to yank it loose and finally one of the other guys came in wielding a gigantic pair of bolt-cutters, said, "to hell with this!" and cut the person's lock off! They all assured me that it wasn't my fault, plus the company has extra locks so it all works out in the end. It was just ridiculous to me that my good first day could be taken down by my damn purse strap.
I'm still having trouble adjusting to my new schedule. It's a lot harder than I expected to get used to going to work at the end of my day as opposed to the beginning. I'm so used to waking up, getting ready and even if I'm not totally with it yet, heading off to work and being ready to go by the time I get there and taking care of my own stuff later when I finally get home. Now I have to start organizing my own day better so that I can get up, try and be productive at home in the morning because I don't leave for work until about 3pm. I'm also trying to force myself to go to sleep as soon as I get home (around 1:15am), but this is a lot harder than you might think. Even though I might be physically worn out from work, my brain is still whizzing and it takes me a good hour to relax, calm down and be ready for bed. This also makes it a lot harder on Dave and I, because when I'm working so many days in a row, we don't really see each other at all except for when he wakes me up to say goodbye in the morning before he leaves for work, or if he manages to stay awake long enough to see me come home at the end of my shift. We've been able to see each other a little more over the weekend since he doesn't have work, but since my body's still adjusting to the amount of work I'm doing, I wound up sleeping through most of the morning. I'm very lucky that he's so supportive though, and I know he definitely understands that my schedule's going to be pretty wonky for a while, but it's still really hard, and I miss him a lot. I'm hoping that after the high holidays are over that I won't be working for more than 5 days in a row at a time, but I guess we'll have to wait and see.
On a more amusing note, I forgot how much fun it was to people-watch on the subways. It's been so long since I've ridden the train enough to have a monthly pass, but now that I do, I get to see a lot more of the other commuters. I'm sure I'm no site to behold at the end of a long shift, but some of this stuff is just too funny. I saw a guy on my way into the city wearing an ankle monitoring bracelet, riding the train with his girlfriend (she could do better) and some hipster who, at 1 o'clock in the morning was doing nothing but playing some game on his iphone and every 30 seconds adjusting a different piece of his hair to ensure that it was strategically and deliberately messy - get a comb you idiot!
Oh! I almost forgot, I have a request for all of my lovely blog readers. Send me bandannas! I quickly realized that wearing baseball caps at work was kind of uncomfortable for me, plus, every time I went to wipe flour off of my face (damn flour!) I just got it all over the brim of my hat. Then I noticed that most of the girls wore bandannas - genius! The only problem being that I didn't think I had any. I managed to find one, that I'm pretty sure was part of a pirate-themed birthday present from my friend Erica from several years ago, but it's the only one I have. So if you would feel so inclined to send me bandannas, I will wear them with pride.
Cute, no?
And, I save the best for last. Some of you may have already heard, but I had my exit interview at school a couple of weeks ago, and even though our official graduation ceremony isn't until November, I got my diploma/certificate already. What's so exciting about that? Well, as it turns out, my good pal Valerie and I will be sharing co-valedictorian honors for our class! It's so surreal to me, I've never gotten top grades in anything before, but I guess I finally found out what I'm good at, which is feeding all of you!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
3 Happy Announcements
I am extremely happy to make the best 3 announcements I've been able to relay in a really long time.
1. I got the job!! As of Wednesday July 25th, I will be a full-time bread baker at a bakery on the west side of Manhattan. The pay grade for someone just starting out isn't great, and the hours aren't the best (4pm - Midnight), but honestly, I couldn't be happier. My Mom isn't thrilled about me taking the train so late, but I hope she'll at least be sated by the fact that they didn't put me on from 8pm till 4am or Midnight to 8am. Plus, Dave's already said he's buying me a bottle of pepper spray, and won't that make for a potentially hilarious Brooke-safety story when I accidentally deploy it on myself?
Also, funny story. Do you remember me telling you about the guy working at the bakery I'm interning at that I nicknamed Tarrel (Darrel with a T)? So, I'm standing at the work table, getting my ingredients ready to make some buttercream when I suddenly feel as though my apron has come untied. I turn around to see Tarrel slowly untying my apron. I hit him, laughing, and yelled, "Stop trying to undress me!" To which he laughed and ran away yelling, "Untying someone's apron is like unhooking their bra, but in the kitchen world!" Seriously, I work with children! At least I managed to hit him before he got away. It wasn't quite as intense as the "slap heard round the N train," but like I said, at least I got him - he runs away quick!
2. I get to go to the URJ KUTZ Camp 45th Reunion this Friday and Saturday! Not only will I get to run around KUTZ, but I'll also get to spend time with some of my favorite people, including one who's coming all the way from England!
3. I finally get to go home! Dave and I are finally going to be able to take a trip back to Buffalo, which will coincide with Yom Kippur as well as my 30th birthday.
I am an extremely lucky girl :)
1. I got the job!! As of Wednesday July 25th, I will be a full-time bread baker at a bakery on the west side of Manhattan. The pay grade for someone just starting out isn't great, and the hours aren't the best (4pm - Midnight), but honestly, I couldn't be happier. My Mom isn't thrilled about me taking the train so late, but I hope she'll at least be sated by the fact that they didn't put me on from 8pm till 4am or Midnight to 8am. Plus, Dave's already said he's buying me a bottle of pepper spray, and won't that make for a potentially hilarious Brooke-safety story when I accidentally deploy it on myself?
Also, funny story. Do you remember me telling you about the guy working at the bakery I'm interning at that I nicknamed Tarrel (Darrel with a T)? So, I'm standing at the work table, getting my ingredients ready to make some buttercream when I suddenly feel as though my apron has come untied. I turn around to see Tarrel slowly untying my apron. I hit him, laughing, and yelled, "Stop trying to undress me!" To which he laughed and ran away yelling, "Untying someone's apron is like unhooking their bra, but in the kitchen world!" Seriously, I work with children! At least I managed to hit him before he got away. It wasn't quite as intense as the "slap heard round the N train," but like I said, at least I got him - he runs away quick!
Re-enactment of the N train slap - wedding style!
2. I get to go to the URJ KUTZ Camp 45th Reunion this Friday and Saturday! Not only will I get to run around KUTZ, but I'll also get to spend time with some of my favorite people, including one who's coming all the way from England!
3. I finally get to go home! Dave and I are finally going to be able to take a trip back to Buffalo, which will coincide with Yom Kippur as well as my 30th birthday.
I am an extremely lucky girl :)
Monday, August 9, 2010
Exhaustion, Tim Horton's and Attack of the Sourdough Mustache
I don't think home cooks realize just how back-breaking it is to work in a professional kitchen, I feel like I just joined the marine corps! I'm really going to have to get into better shape if I'm going to work in this kind of environment. Of course, the argument could be made that as long as I don't pig-out like crazy during the day, and work like crazy at the bakery, that in and of itself will be a workout, but I still feel like maybe I should join a gym or at least try to be more active on my own. Because seriously folks, I need to be a wee bit faster and to have a lot less of me to move around, lol.
I had my trial interview at the bakery in the city last night, and while it wasn't completely what I expected, I think that it went fairly well. I showed up early for what I was expecting would be a 2-3 hour tops work trial, just to see how I'd fit in in their kitchen. For starters, I was blown away by how amazing everything looked in their storefront. Even though I'd arrived toward the end of their retail hours for Sunday, everything still looked delicious, there were a wide variety of breads, some with sweet or savory additions, as well as some tasty looking pastries. Unfortunately, the person I'd been told I'd be meeting with had left for the day. I was crestfallen at first, thinking I'd have to reschedule, but a minute later, the girl at the counter took me back to work with a couple of other guys in the bakery.
I'd never have guessed from looking at the storefront, but their warehouse/kitchen/bakery is huge! There was this massive expanse of space in the back, as well as floor to ceiling ovens, that I still can't wrap my mind around how they all work. Then the doorway to the bakery, which is in between the two giant sections of ovens, was flanked by these gigantic wooden peels (at least twice as long as I am tall) that stood like stationary guards keeping watch over the baking breads.
The guys I worked with were very nice, and at first I felt like, "this is going to be soooo easy!" There were only 2 other guys there, and all they had me doing at first was picking rosemary apart. So I'm standing their happily with green finger tips thinking it's going to be a breeze, and boy was I ever wrong! After that, the work level took a quick upswing and before I knew it I was portioning and shaping doughs, being taught how to throw wheat bran down a rack like a baseball, and lifting very heavy rubbermaid containers of dough. All of the sudden 6 o'clock had rolled around and the guys were asking if I wanted something to eat from the storefront (they also make and sell paninis). I joined them, but was a little confused. After all, if they're offering to feed me, that makes it seem more like a break rather than sending me on my way. So after I had a little something to eat, I tried to very casually ask how long the trial lasted for. The guy I was observing called the guy I'd been told I was supposed to meet and then came back to me and said, "can you stay till 10pm?" I had no idea that work trial meant that I'd actually be working a 6+ hour shift. Of course I said yes, because I didn't want to seem flaky, and I really want the job, but I had to sneak upstairs to call Dave to let him know that I wouldn't be home till much later than expected. I kind of get it, after all, what better way to see how I'll work out then by having me work a full shift. It just would have been nice to know that up front. Also, I have to tell you that it wasn't until about 4 hours into my shift there that another girl showed up. After a little while she and I were chatting and she asked how long I'd worked there for. While pleased that I looked to her like a regular employee, I admitted that I was only there on a trial, and asked her the same question - she had just started the day before. So then she asked where I was working now and so I explained that I was about to graduate from pastry school and this would be my first full-time industry job, so again, I reciprocated and asked where she worked previously. Jean Georges. Freaking Jean Georges! She's like, "oh I was a chef there, I didn't bake..." Oh yes, that makes all the difference. Don't mind me, I'm just going to go stand in the corner and think about the fact that you were a chef at Jean Georges! For those who don't know, Jean Georges is one of those super-important, super-fancy-pants places that Dave and I might go to if say, we had upwards of $300 to spend on dinner. I was stunned, I couldn't believe that there was a chance I could be starting work someplace with someone who had that kind of pedigree. It's the kind of thing that builds you up and yet makes you feel inferior at the same time.
By the end of the night, let me tell you - I looked delightful. I now fully understand why they have a full locker room and bathrooms with showers. Every time I shook out my apron I was literally surrounded by a cloud of flour. I had to beat the hat I'd borrowed from Dave out over the sink to get most of the flour off, and my jeans and sneakers were so coated, I looked like I'd been caught in the dust bowl of 1930! No no wait...I looked like look like I trudged through a field of cocaine! Or um...you know, flour...
I'm here all week folks. Tip your waitress, try the veal!
By the time 10pm rolled around, I was thoroughly exhausted. My supervisor dismissed me for the night and rewarded me with a pullman loaf of sourdough bread. Also, since I had to take a different train that night (the train that would've gotten me closest to the bakery was running on a different track due to repairs, etc. aka: MTA hates me), I decided to treat myself with a stop at the Tim Horton's 1 block away from the train and get myself an Ice Capp. Oh Tim Horton...I love you most of all...
I had my trial interview at the bakery in the city last night, and while it wasn't completely what I expected, I think that it went fairly well. I showed up early for what I was expecting would be a 2-3 hour tops work trial, just to see how I'd fit in in their kitchen. For starters, I was blown away by how amazing everything looked in their storefront. Even though I'd arrived toward the end of their retail hours for Sunday, everything still looked delicious, there were a wide variety of breads, some with sweet or savory additions, as well as some tasty looking pastries. Unfortunately, the person I'd been told I'd be meeting with had left for the day. I was crestfallen at first, thinking I'd have to reschedule, but a minute later, the girl at the counter took me back to work with a couple of other guys in the bakery.
I'd never have guessed from looking at the storefront, but their warehouse/kitchen/bakery is huge! There was this massive expanse of space in the back, as well as floor to ceiling ovens, that I still can't wrap my mind around how they all work. Then the doorway to the bakery, which is in between the two giant sections of ovens, was flanked by these gigantic wooden peels (at least twice as long as I am tall) that stood like stationary guards keeping watch over the baking breads.
The guys I worked with were very nice, and at first I felt like, "this is going to be soooo easy!" There were only 2 other guys there, and all they had me doing at first was picking rosemary apart. So I'm standing their happily with green finger tips thinking it's going to be a breeze, and boy was I ever wrong! After that, the work level took a quick upswing and before I knew it I was portioning and shaping doughs, being taught how to throw wheat bran down a rack like a baseball, and lifting very heavy rubbermaid containers of dough. All of the sudden 6 o'clock had rolled around and the guys were asking if I wanted something to eat from the storefront (they also make and sell paninis). I joined them, but was a little confused. After all, if they're offering to feed me, that makes it seem more like a break rather than sending me on my way. So after I had a little something to eat, I tried to very casually ask how long the trial lasted for. The guy I was observing called the guy I'd been told I was supposed to meet and then came back to me and said, "can you stay till 10pm?" I had no idea that work trial meant that I'd actually be working a 6+ hour shift. Of course I said yes, because I didn't want to seem flaky, and I really want the job, but I had to sneak upstairs to call Dave to let him know that I wouldn't be home till much later than expected. I kind of get it, after all, what better way to see how I'll work out then by having me work a full shift. It just would have been nice to know that up front. Also, I have to tell you that it wasn't until about 4 hours into my shift there that another girl showed up. After a little while she and I were chatting and she asked how long I'd worked there for. While pleased that I looked to her like a regular employee, I admitted that I was only there on a trial, and asked her the same question - she had just started the day before. So then she asked where I was working now and so I explained that I was about to graduate from pastry school and this would be my first full-time industry job, so again, I reciprocated and asked where she worked previously. Jean Georges. Freaking Jean Georges! She's like, "oh I was a chef there, I didn't bake..." Oh yes, that makes all the difference. Don't mind me, I'm just going to go stand in the corner and think about the fact that you were a chef at Jean Georges! For those who don't know, Jean Georges is one of those super-important, super-fancy-pants places that Dave and I might go to if say, we had upwards of $300 to spend on dinner. I was stunned, I couldn't believe that there was a chance I could be starting work someplace with someone who had that kind of pedigree. It's the kind of thing that builds you up and yet makes you feel inferior at the same time.
By the end of the night, let me tell you - I looked delightful. I now fully understand why they have a full locker room and bathrooms with showers. Every time I shook out my apron I was literally surrounded by a cloud of flour. I had to beat the hat I'd borrowed from Dave out over the sink to get most of the flour off, and my jeans and sneakers were so coated, I looked like I'd been caught in the dust bowl of 1930! No no wait...I looked like look like I trudged through a field of cocaine! Or um...you know, flour...
I'm here all week folks. Tip your waitress, try the veal!
By the time 10pm rolled around, I was thoroughly exhausted. My supervisor dismissed me for the night and rewarded me with a pullman loaf of sourdough bread. Also, since I had to take a different train that night (the train that would've gotten me closest to the bakery was running on a different track due to repairs, etc. aka: MTA hates me), I decided to treat myself with a stop at the Tim Horton's 1 block away from the train and get myself an Ice Capp. Oh Tim Horton...I love you most of all...
My prizes, bread and a Tim Horton's Ice Capp
Dave was particularly fond of the bread and decided that it looked very nice as a mustache
I was so incredibly sore when I woke up this morning. I honestly still don't know how I made it out of bed at all. The good news is though, I got up the nerve to call the woman from human resources who had set the work trial up for me in the first place, to thank her and to follow up and see if she still wanted me to come in for a sit-down interview. As it turns out, she did! She told me that she'd gotten really positive feedback from the guys I'd worked with on Sunday, and that they'd conveyed to her that they would feel good about having me in the bakery with them. *insert squeals of excitement right about...here* So I'm going there tomorrow at 10am. Luckily, the Chef at my internship is so invested in me getting this job that he had no problem with me not being able to come in tomorrow morning. Hopefully it will all go well, and I won't say anything stupid. Thanks again for all of your support and for reading my little blog. It always makes my day to see that other people are actually interested in what I have to say and invested in my making it in the ever so delightful world of cakes, pies and breads.
p.s. I really need to learn Spanish
p.p.s. no seriously, where is Rosetta Stone when you need it?
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Internships and Interviews
The strangest thing happened to me the other day...Santiago actually complimented me! Usually with him, no news is good news, so when he stops saying, "what are you doing?!" 15 times a day (usually I wasn't even doing anything wrong, he just wanted to mess with me...), I knew that I was doing alright, but the other day he actually took the time, to tell me he like something. I made the chef's "oreo-style" cookies on Saturday after they'd both left for the day, and usually they're fine, but not perfect, but I guess I made them pretty well this time, yay me! Of course, none of this matters since he doesn't like me anymore after finding out that I'm "judÃo" (aka: Jewish), and I'm not entirely sure whether this is a joke or not.
He always likes to tell me that he's teaching me Spanish and doing me a great service, so I was joking with him that I was going to teach him Yiddish, but he didn't really seem to get what that was. So, I mentioned to Jolene that I was trying to teach him to say, "Oy Vey", and she said, "Oh, you speak Yiddish?" and I said a little bit, and she kind of paused like she wanted to say something but didn't know how to, and she said, "So, that means you're..." and I kind of chuckled and said "Yes, I'm Jewish." and she was like, "Oh! That's cool!" and then she told Santiago, and he just kept smiling and saying, "No...serious?" over and over again, and then he looks at me and says, "You no Jesus?" and I said, "No, me no Jesus..." and just looks at me, very puzzled and says, "why?" I tried explaining to him that Judaism is just different, but as I'm sure you can guess by the fact that I refer to our interactions as the "Brooke and Santiago Variety Show", didn't really translate. He seems fine with me now, but I can't really shake the feeling that I got after this happened. It's been a long time since I've gotten this kind of reaction from another person, and I suppose that some of it has to do with our different backgrounds. After all, I don't know the exact details, but I'm sure that Ecuador doesn't have much in the way of Jewish communities. It's just kind of sadly funny, either people refuse to believe me when they find out that I'm Jewish, saying things like, "that's funny, you don't LOOK Jewish', or, "so how are you Jewish exactly?" Or, apparently they take offense to it. But like I said, he hasn't mentioned it since, and as of today I only have 4 days left there, so I'm going to try and not worry about it for now.
In much happier news, I have an interview today! My very first at a real bakery. I'm extremely excited and terrified all at the same time. I actually applied for a job there on the recommendation of a friend of my Mom's first, before I even saw them advertising jobs, and when they first called me for an interview I was excited, but I guess I didn't realize what I'd stumbled into. On Friday when I was at my internship, I casually mentioned to the chef that I had an interview lined up for today. He asked where, and when I told him he just started laughing. I was kind of surprised, but I know that he has very specific ideas on what makes a good bakery, so I said, "What, is that not good?" But to my surprise, he said, "No! They're one of the very best bakeries in the city! Do you realize how many people wish they were in your position right now?" Needless to say, that made me a lot more nervous, but luckily he's been helping me prep since then, as he's determined that I get this job. They're primarily a bread bakery, and they supply bread to a lot of well known places in the city, even the chef at my internship stocks some of their breads for sale in his bakery as it's one of the only things he doesn't make from scratch. He's already joke that he's going to call me when I get the job so that he can finally learn the secret to making their foccacia, which I might add, is pretty fantastic - I had some last night, yum!
So please please please, think extremely good thoughts for me around 4 o'clock today, b/c that's when I'll be starting my working interview. I won't say where for now so that I don't jinx it completely, but I'm excited that it's Manhattan, and also, not too far from where Dave works, so if our schedules ever coincide, we can try to catch-up with each other in the city. I'll let you know how it goes!!
Thanks for Reading :)
He always likes to tell me that he's teaching me Spanish and doing me a great service, so I was joking with him that I was going to teach him Yiddish, but he didn't really seem to get what that was. So, I mentioned to Jolene that I was trying to teach him to say, "Oy Vey", and she said, "Oh, you speak Yiddish?" and I said a little bit, and she kind of paused like she wanted to say something but didn't know how to, and she said, "So, that means you're..." and I kind of chuckled and said "Yes, I'm Jewish." and she was like, "Oh! That's cool!" and then she told Santiago, and he just kept smiling and saying, "No...serious?" over and over again, and then he looks at me and says, "You no Jesus?" and I said, "No, me no Jesus..." and just looks at me, very puzzled and says, "why?" I tried explaining to him that Judaism is just different, but as I'm sure you can guess by the fact that I refer to our interactions as the "Brooke and Santiago Variety Show", didn't really translate. He seems fine with me now, but I can't really shake the feeling that I got after this happened. It's been a long time since I've gotten this kind of reaction from another person, and I suppose that some of it has to do with our different backgrounds. After all, I don't know the exact details, but I'm sure that Ecuador doesn't have much in the way of Jewish communities. It's just kind of sadly funny, either people refuse to believe me when they find out that I'm Jewish, saying things like, "that's funny, you don't LOOK Jewish', or, "so how are you Jewish exactly?" Or, apparently they take offense to it. But like I said, he hasn't mentioned it since, and as of today I only have 4 days left there, so I'm going to try and not worry about it for now.
In much happier news, I have an interview today! My very first at a real bakery. I'm extremely excited and terrified all at the same time. I actually applied for a job there on the recommendation of a friend of my Mom's first, before I even saw them advertising jobs, and when they first called me for an interview I was excited, but I guess I didn't realize what I'd stumbled into. On Friday when I was at my internship, I casually mentioned to the chef that I had an interview lined up for today. He asked where, and when I told him he just started laughing. I was kind of surprised, but I know that he has very specific ideas on what makes a good bakery, so I said, "What, is that not good?" But to my surprise, he said, "No! They're one of the very best bakeries in the city! Do you realize how many people wish they were in your position right now?" Needless to say, that made me a lot more nervous, but luckily he's been helping me prep since then, as he's determined that I get this job. They're primarily a bread bakery, and they supply bread to a lot of well known places in the city, even the chef at my internship stocks some of their breads for sale in his bakery as it's one of the only things he doesn't make from scratch. He's already joke that he's going to call me when I get the job so that he can finally learn the secret to making their foccacia, which I might add, is pretty fantastic - I had some last night, yum!
So please please please, think extremely good thoughts for me around 4 o'clock today, b/c that's when I'll be starting my working interview. I won't say where for now so that I don't jinx it completely, but I'm excited that it's Manhattan, and also, not too far from where Dave works, so if our schedules ever coincide, we can try to catch-up with each other in the city. I'll let you know how it goes!!
Thanks for Reading :)
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Gimme Some Sugar Baby
A frequent customer at the bakery where I'm interning came through the kitchen to use the bathroom. On his way in, he noted, "Every time I see you, you're holding chocolate!" To which I replied, "And that is why my job is awesome."
The other day, something happened to me that was just so funny I have to share it with you. There's a very nice girl who works behind the counter of the bakery - let's call her "Jolene". So Jolene is still in high school and reminds me of the women in my husband's family because she could easily fit in my pocket. She's also very handy to have around because she speaks Spanish fluently, and she will readily translate for Santiago and myself when we're having one of our "I don't understand you!" fits.
So yes, I'm standing at the prep table when all of the sudden Jolene comes running up to me and yells, "Brooke! I hate being a teenage girl!!" I was a little caught off guard, so I very warily said, "Is this a Judy Blume moment? Because I didn't come prepared for that today..." She brushed it off and pointed emphatically at her face and said, "Look!! Look at this! That wasn't there this morning!" And there, near her chin were the beginnings of an only slightly noticeable pimple. At this point I had to chuckle, meanwhile she's whining and looking awkwardly to the side, claiming that she can see it if she looks down, that's how big it is. I sighed and told her it was barely noticeable, she didn't agree and said something along the lines of, "It's not fair - you have great skin!" So I told her, "Yeah, but I'm 29, when you're 29 I'm sure your skin will be fine too. Having someone run up to me claiming to hate being a teenage girl was definitely my hilarious moment of the week, I can't remember anyone ever saying that to me, and I used to be a camp counselor for 20 14-15 year old girls *shudders*.
Chef Katie always used to brag about the "guns" she had when she was working at restaurants and folding, punching & molding bread doughs daily, and I definitely see what she means. I don't have great arms like my mom or my sister, but I can definitely feel myself getting stronger with all the whisking, heaving lifting, etc. Oh the whisking...that's one of my major issues. I'm trying to teach myself to be ambidextrous so that my right arm doesn't get worn out (that's what she said), but whenever I try to whisk with my left arm, it just flails around, as if to say, "Seriously Brooke? I wasn't made to work this way. Let's dispense with any feelings to the contrary right now..." I'm just worried that I'm going to wind up with one crazy arm and look like this:
The other day, something happened to me that was just so funny I have to share it with you. There's a very nice girl who works behind the counter of the bakery - let's call her "Jolene". So Jolene is still in high school and reminds me of the women in my husband's family because she could easily fit in my pocket. She's also very handy to have around because she speaks Spanish fluently, and she will readily translate for Santiago and myself when we're having one of our "I don't understand you!" fits.
So yes, I'm standing at the prep table when all of the sudden Jolene comes running up to me and yells, "Brooke! I hate being a teenage girl!!" I was a little caught off guard, so I very warily said, "Is this a Judy Blume moment? Because I didn't come prepared for that today..." She brushed it off and pointed emphatically at her face and said, "Look!! Look at this! That wasn't there this morning!" And there, near her chin were the beginnings of an only slightly noticeable pimple. At this point I had to chuckle, meanwhile she's whining and looking awkwardly to the side, claiming that she can see it if she looks down, that's how big it is. I sighed and told her it was barely noticeable, she didn't agree and said something along the lines of, "It's not fair - you have great skin!" So I told her, "Yeah, but I'm 29, when you're 29 I'm sure your skin will be fine too. Having someone run up to me claiming to hate being a teenage girl was definitely my hilarious moment of the week, I can't remember anyone ever saying that to me, and I used to be a camp counselor for 20 14-15 year old girls *shudders*.
Chef Katie always used to brag about the "guns" she had when she was working at restaurants and folding, punching & molding bread doughs daily, and I definitely see what she means. I don't have great arms like my mom or my sister, but I can definitely feel myself getting stronger with all the whisking, heaving lifting, etc. Oh the whisking...that's one of my major issues. I'm trying to teach myself to be ambidextrous so that my right arm doesn't get worn out (that's what she said), but whenever I try to whisk with my left arm, it just flails around, as if to say, "Seriously Brooke? I wasn't made to work this way. Let's dispense with any feelings to the contrary right now..." I'm just worried that I'm going to wind up with one crazy arm and look like this:
Not that I think I'm as attractive as Bruce Campbell, but I do not fancy having a machine gun as an arm. Or being chased by skeleton armies...I don't think it would be helpful in my chosen field. Just a thought.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Black Holes and Frustrations
It's hard to believe that I only have 2 1/2 weeks left on my internship. I wish that I felt confident about what I'm going to do after it's all over, but I don't. In fact, I'm utterly terrified about what will come once August 16th rolls around.
I like my internship, but it is kind of far away. The Chef has made fairly definitive statements about keeping me on, but he hasn't made me an official offer and has also said that if I stayed, he could probably only keep me on part-time. This doesn't exactly thrill me because I've been running myself ragged with the internship and the part-time job I already have as it is, and was really looking forward to having 1 full-time job. If it's my only option, of course I'll do it, but I hope that it doesn't come to that. Also, the office manager at the aforementioned pt job is hassling me about staying longer than I'm hoping to. I asked if I could have 2 days off to go to my camp reunion in August, and she basically said I could only take those days off if I stayed there till at least Sept. 15th. Then when I said I couldn't definitively say that I could be there till then, she started giving me this speech about how she, "did me a favor" by giving me a job, knowing that it wouldn't only be for a certain period of time, etc. It took me a little while to wrap my head around her saying that, but I eventually came back and told her that I wasn't trying to give her the run around, but that I hadn't had any official job offers from bakeries - full or part-time, and that my main priority is to have a full-time income because, seriously, I'm running out of money. I hope that she really heard me because I'm really scared about what's going to happen and how I'm going to have money coming in.
I got my self all jumped-up about going home to Buffalo after my internship, but now that almost seems laughable given the severely limited amount of income that I currently have. Not to mention the fact that I'd have to quit my pt job, because there's no way that the office manager will give me that amount of time off now. I keep trying to come up with ways of increasing my income, trying to sell more goods on etsy, selling things I don't use anymore on ebay, etc. but I doubt that I'd be able to turn enough of a profit to have it make a difference, plus I'm stretched so thin as it is, I don't see myself having enough time to make that much stuff.
The other thing that's got me wrapped up is that the Chef at my internship asked me what I wanted to do with my career. I told him that I really wanted to get more experience with cakes - baking, decorating, etc. So...he told me that he could probably get me connected with another chef he knows for a position at his bakery. A really famous chef....super well known cake person, so much so that I don't even want to mention their name. What's wrong with this picture? Well, the position he'd possibly be able to get me is another internship. AKA - I will not be getting paid. I hate to admit it, but right now I'm more than a little jealous of the other people starting out in this industry who are still living at home in with their parents. Even the Chef at my internship said that one of the reasons he was able to get so much quality experience when he started out was because he was 19-20 years old and still living with his parents. I just cannot continue to only make a part-time salary, but the thought of passing up this internship (if it comes through) makes me physically sick to my stomach. Deep down I know that if I want to get to a certain level, and am willing to work hard enough to make it happen, that I'll be able to achieve it without this shot, but right now that's a little hard to accept.
Sorry for being such a downer today, I guess it can't always be sunshine and puppies. I'll keep you all posted on what happens and what I decide to do. I'm desperate to get home to Buffalo for a visit, hopefully I won't have to wait till my birthday in September, but if I at least get to go then, so be it.
I'll have funnier stories for you in the next post - promise.
I like my internship, but it is kind of far away. The Chef has made fairly definitive statements about keeping me on, but he hasn't made me an official offer and has also said that if I stayed, he could probably only keep me on part-time. This doesn't exactly thrill me because I've been running myself ragged with the internship and the part-time job I already have as it is, and was really looking forward to having 1 full-time job. If it's my only option, of course I'll do it, but I hope that it doesn't come to that. Also, the office manager at the aforementioned pt job is hassling me about staying longer than I'm hoping to. I asked if I could have 2 days off to go to my camp reunion in August, and she basically said I could only take those days off if I stayed there till at least Sept. 15th. Then when I said I couldn't definitively say that I could be there till then, she started giving me this speech about how she, "did me a favor" by giving me a job, knowing that it wouldn't only be for a certain period of time, etc. It took me a little while to wrap my head around her saying that, but I eventually came back and told her that I wasn't trying to give her the run around, but that I hadn't had any official job offers from bakeries - full or part-time, and that my main priority is to have a full-time income because, seriously, I'm running out of money. I hope that she really heard me because I'm really scared about what's going to happen and how I'm going to have money coming in.
I got my self all jumped-up about going home to Buffalo after my internship, but now that almost seems laughable given the severely limited amount of income that I currently have. Not to mention the fact that I'd have to quit my pt job, because there's no way that the office manager will give me that amount of time off now. I keep trying to come up with ways of increasing my income, trying to sell more goods on etsy, selling things I don't use anymore on ebay, etc. but I doubt that I'd be able to turn enough of a profit to have it make a difference, plus I'm stretched so thin as it is, I don't see myself having enough time to make that much stuff.
The other thing that's got me wrapped up is that the Chef at my internship asked me what I wanted to do with my career. I told him that I really wanted to get more experience with cakes - baking, decorating, etc. So...he told me that he could probably get me connected with another chef he knows for a position at his bakery. A really famous chef....super well known cake person, so much so that I don't even want to mention their name. What's wrong with this picture? Well, the position he'd possibly be able to get me is another internship. AKA - I will not be getting paid. I hate to admit it, but right now I'm more than a little jealous of the other people starting out in this industry who are still living at home in with their parents. Even the Chef at my internship said that one of the reasons he was able to get so much quality experience when he started out was because he was 19-20 years old and still living with his parents. I just cannot continue to only make a part-time salary, but the thought of passing up this internship (if it comes through) makes me physically sick to my stomach. Deep down I know that if I want to get to a certain level, and am willing to work hard enough to make it happen, that I'll be able to achieve it without this shot, but right now that's a little hard to accept.
Sorry for being such a downer today, I guess it can't always be sunshine and puppies. I'll keep you all posted on what happens and what I decide to do. I'm desperate to get home to Buffalo for a visit, hopefully I won't have to wait till my birthday in September, but if I at least get to go then, so be it.
I'll have funnier stories for you in the next post - promise.
Monday, July 19, 2010
So, when do I get my own Spanish-language soap opera?
Ding ding ding! We have a winner!! Rachel S, since you were the only one to correctly guess that I referred to my new co-worker, Tarrel, as an ass hat, you have won the delicious prize of peanut brittle! This will be presented at a prestigious prize-winning ceremony that will take place...um...whenever I see you next! Yes, it will be very special, just you wait.
Things have been very hectic lately, lots of running around and trips to Albany two weekends in a row. We got to see several members of Dave's family, including his grandparents, mom, aunt, uncle and cousin. Games of clue, diving lessons and general shenanigans were enjoyed by all - Dave's mom almost blew-up a clothes dryer!! Just kidding Sue! Nothing but love for you here :) (p.s. no lie...as I was typing that out, I started to spell "blew-up" as "bluew-up"...I'm smart!). Apparently the family are big fans of my blog (who knew I had that many readers? I kid...), and are particularly fond of the stories where I injure myself. Ahh...now it makes sense. Not being one to deprive you of Brooke-safety stories, here we go:
I almost feel a little guilty that I don't have a better clumsiness-induced story for you, but it does involve a scene from the new Brooke & Santiago variety hour, so I'll continue. As you already know from reading this blog, Santiago isn't, shall we say, so fluent in English. He speaks enough to get by, and the rest of the time just enjoys saying the same things to me in Spanish over and over again, and then laughing when I tell him I don't know what he's saying. Then he'll give me a rapid-fire quiz on random Spanish words (Bracelet? Really? Why do I need to know how to say bracelet in the kitchen?) and laugh at me when I can't remember any of them. So one day I was feeling particularly frustrated with him and was going to put the salt and baking powder containers away on his side of the work table. What I did not know was that he had put one of the dishwasher trays half-way underneath the table. Only half-way, otherwise what happened next would never have occurred. I start making my way around his side of the table, holding my containers and as soon as my foot hits the tray, down I go. Seriously, it was like a tree being cut-down by a miniature lumberjack. It happened so slowly, but amusingly enough, I didn't drop the salt or baking powder. Now if I'd been holding an actual baked-good, it would've gone way up in the air and landed upside down on top of my head, but at least that didn't happen. Not yet anyway. So yes, I'm lying on the ground at Santiago's feet and he's yelling and literally trying to yank me up off the floor, all the while I'm yelling, "I'm fine! I'm fine! Stop pulling me!" but he doesn't understand me...Eventually I got up, but he didn't talk to me for the rest of the day, I think he was so scared I was mad at him. In the end, I lived to fall another day - Brooke-safety be damned.
I've really been trying to focus and remember when I make a mistake so that it doesn't happen again. Santiago's been having me make a lot of sponge cakes, and the only problem with this is that when we whip the sugar and eggs in our mixer it rises so much (by whipping air into the eggs you're creating a lot of volume), that when you have to fold in the flour, you literally have to do it by hand. I want you to picture me should deep in a mixing bowl, because that's essentially what has to happen. I have to take a bowl scraper in one hand, and while Santiago is adding the flour into the bowl, fold it like a crazy person, practically jumping into the bowl to make sure that it's perfectly incorporated. The last time I made the batter, the Chef was telling me I had to be more careful next time because he found some flour chunks in the finished cake, so this time I went to town on that batter. I defy anyone to find any clumps of flour...as a side note, none of my chef's jackets are clean anymore. Even when I wash them I can't get everything out. When I make the sponge cake, even though I have my sleeve folded up past my elbow, I still wind up sticking my entire right arm in the sink, drenching it with water and letting it dry while I work the rest of my shift - that's how much batter I get on myself. Ah, to do what you love ;)
In case you haven't noticed, it's been unbearably hot lately...and I know, I'm the girl who says that anything above 75 degrees is too hot, but seriously? Temperatures in the late 90's to low 100's day after day when you're standing in an already hot kitchen, inches away from an oven for hours on end? Let's just say that I am quite the sight to behold at the end of a long shift. News flash: I've discovered a new walk of shame, it's what happens when you've been sweating in a professional kitchen for 6+ hours in long sleeves and pants and you have to park two blocks away because there aren't any available spots left on your block. I love walking by fancy people coming home from their office jobs when I look like I just climbed, fully-dressed, out of a pool. It makes me feel so pretty.
In a related story, you know what else is funny? Working in a kitchen and then thinking that you can go shoe-shopping afterward.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Funny, right? I had that brilliant idea the same day that I experienced my walk of shame. If I wasn't fit to walk down my own street, I certainly wasn't going to be able to walk into a store without being asked to leave on grounds of stinkiness. But what's a girl to do? I desperately needed new shoes for a wedding that we were going to (which accounts for our second trip to the magical city of Albany). I eventually found a cute pair of red flats on the day before we had to leave.
Not bad for $7, right? They certainly held up great while we danced the night away. On that note, I want to send a special shout-out to Jenn & Mike. I believe that you're still on your honeymoon, and I hope you're having a great time in San Diego. You joked with me at your wedding that you were "stalking" my blog, what you call stalking I call, "love from a distance" - that sounds healthy, right? Congratulations again, and send me your address when you get back so that I know where to send your chocolate/baked goods care package!
Things have been very hectic lately, lots of running around and trips to Albany two weekends in a row. We got to see several members of Dave's family, including his grandparents, mom, aunt, uncle and cousin. Games of clue, diving lessons and general shenanigans were enjoyed by all - Dave's mom almost blew-up a clothes dryer!! Just kidding Sue! Nothing but love for you here :) (p.s. no lie...as I was typing that out, I started to spell "blew-up" as "bluew-up"...I'm smart!). Apparently the family are big fans of my blog (who knew I had that many readers? I kid...), and are particularly fond of the stories where I injure myself. Ahh...now it makes sense. Not being one to deprive you of Brooke-safety stories, here we go:
I almost feel a little guilty that I don't have a better clumsiness-induced story for you, but it does involve a scene from the new Brooke & Santiago variety hour, so I'll continue. As you already know from reading this blog, Santiago isn't, shall we say, so fluent in English. He speaks enough to get by, and the rest of the time just enjoys saying the same things to me in Spanish over and over again, and then laughing when I tell him I don't know what he's saying. Then he'll give me a rapid-fire quiz on random Spanish words (Bracelet? Really? Why do I need to know how to say bracelet in the kitchen?) and laugh at me when I can't remember any of them. So one day I was feeling particularly frustrated with him and was going to put the salt and baking powder containers away on his side of the work table. What I did not know was that he had put one of the dishwasher trays half-way underneath the table. Only half-way, otherwise what happened next would never have occurred. I start making my way around his side of the table, holding my containers and as soon as my foot hits the tray, down I go. Seriously, it was like a tree being cut-down by a miniature lumberjack. It happened so slowly, but amusingly enough, I didn't drop the salt or baking powder. Now if I'd been holding an actual baked-good, it would've gone way up in the air and landed upside down on top of my head, but at least that didn't happen. Not yet anyway. So yes, I'm lying on the ground at Santiago's feet and he's yelling and literally trying to yank me up off the floor, all the while I'm yelling, "I'm fine! I'm fine! Stop pulling me!" but he doesn't understand me...Eventually I got up, but he didn't talk to me for the rest of the day, I think he was so scared I was mad at him. In the end, I lived to fall another day - Brooke-safety be damned.
I've really been trying to focus and remember when I make a mistake so that it doesn't happen again. Santiago's been having me make a lot of sponge cakes, and the only problem with this is that when we whip the sugar and eggs in our mixer it rises so much (by whipping air into the eggs you're creating a lot of volume), that when you have to fold in the flour, you literally have to do it by hand. I want you to picture me should deep in a mixing bowl, because that's essentially what has to happen. I have to take a bowl scraper in one hand, and while Santiago is adding the flour into the bowl, fold it like a crazy person, practically jumping into the bowl to make sure that it's perfectly incorporated. The last time I made the batter, the Chef was telling me I had to be more careful next time because he found some flour chunks in the finished cake, so this time I went to town on that batter. I defy anyone to find any clumps of flour...as a side note, none of my chef's jackets are clean anymore. Even when I wash them I can't get everything out. When I make the sponge cake, even though I have my sleeve folded up past my elbow, I still wind up sticking my entire right arm in the sink, drenching it with water and letting it dry while I work the rest of my shift - that's how much batter I get on myself. Ah, to do what you love ;)
In case you haven't noticed, it's been unbearably hot lately...and I know, I'm the girl who says that anything above 75 degrees is too hot, but seriously? Temperatures in the late 90's to low 100's day after day when you're standing in an already hot kitchen, inches away from an oven for hours on end? Let's just say that I am quite the sight to behold at the end of a long shift. News flash: I've discovered a new walk of shame, it's what happens when you've been sweating in a professional kitchen for 6+ hours in long sleeves and pants and you have to park two blocks away because there aren't any available spots left on your block. I love walking by fancy people coming home from their office jobs when I look like I just climbed, fully-dressed, out of a pool. It makes me feel so pretty.
In a related story, you know what else is funny? Working in a kitchen and then thinking that you can go shoe-shopping afterward.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Funny, right? I had that brilliant idea the same day that I experienced my walk of shame. If I wasn't fit to walk down my own street, I certainly wasn't going to be able to walk into a store without being asked to leave on grounds of stinkiness. But what's a girl to do? I desperately needed new shoes for a wedding that we were going to (which accounts for our second trip to the magical city of Albany). I eventually found a cute pair of red flats on the day before we had to leave.
Not bad for $7, right? They certainly held up great while we danced the night away. On that note, I want to send a special shout-out to Jenn & Mike. I believe that you're still on your honeymoon, and I hope you're having a great time in San Diego. You joked with me at your wedding that you were "stalking" my blog, what you call stalking I call, "love from a distance" - that sounds healthy, right? Congratulations again, and send me your address when you get back so that I know where to send your chocolate/baked goods care package!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Internships and Spanglish
Internship hours completed: 52
Spanish words successfully learned: 3
Nervous Breakdowns: 1
Hi everyone! It's hard to believe that I'm already a quarter of the way through with my internship. For the most part I am having a good time, but I'm sure it goes without saying (though since I have this lovely blog here, I'll say it anyway) that it's never exactly what you expect it to be.
When I started (about two weeks ago), there was another intern who had already been working there for a couple of weeks, let's call her...Majorca (What - you have a better pretend name? Just go with it...). So Majorca had finished her class about a month before I did, which meant that she had a different teacher - the same one who I had a couple of times as a sub when Chef Katie was out. I'd already heard (don't ask me how) that she was not doing that great and that she could be hard to deal with - sound like anyone we know? However, I wanted to keep an open mind, plus since she'd already been there for awhile, I figured she'd be way ahead of me. Boy was I ever wrong about that one! She WAS awful! She seemed a lot more concerned with asking me questions about my life plan than she was about doing anything at the bakery, so it came as no big surprise when she was let go from the placement before the end of my first week. She couldn't even make streusel! For those of you who don't know, streusel is a crumb topping that, in my experience, is usually made with butter, brown sugar, flour and cinnamon (sometimes with nuts, etc. added in) - it's also not particularly difficult to make. So one of my first days at the bakery, the Chef is having me top a bunch of pies with streusel and we were running low on the batch I'd been using. He tells me, "You're going to have to use Majorca's crappy streusel, it's in the fridge." I say, "Okay (looking), where is it?" He chuckles and says, "Oh you know, it's the one that looks like dough." So I pull out a sheet pan that, lo and behold, looks like a sheet of very thick, light dough. I try to break it apart to crumble it and it just comes apart in giant chunks - I could've beaten someone over the head with it. So then the Chef has to leave to go on a delivery and he looks at me and says, "Okay, you make some streusel while I'm gone." He leaves and I panic. What if this is the one time I screw it up and he thinks we're all just a bunch of idiots? Luckily that didn't happen. He came back and cried out, "She can make streusel! Thank God!" What a relief! I'm still in the program.
Since then my new chef and I have gotten along pretty well (don't worry CK - there's no one like you!), he even told me that he was already considering hiring me in September because he likes the way that I work (yay!). Though, I don't want to leave you with the misconception that I'm doing everything perfectly, because that couldn't be further from the truth; I have definitely made my fair share of mistakes already. I totally over baked some mini-cheesecakes today and was also told that my knife skills were "atrocious" and was then made to sit through a lesson on the proper way to hold a knife while the Chef pulled on it from various angles. I'm trying to take all of these mess-ups and corrections in stride, and I'm definitely glad to still be learning, but it's really hard to sit there, listen to someone criticize you and then essentially thank them for telling you just how badly you suck.
One thing that doing this internship has made me realize (and don't laugh) is how many things I still need to get! Now don't get me wrong, I'm not about to run out and buy anything crazy like a corn stick pan (love you Mark!), but there are other things that have started making their way onto my wish list:
#1: A real woman's chef jacket - Sorry CK, as much as you may tell me not to be jealous of your hip vents, I can't help it! I desperately want a jacket that doesn't come down to my knees, and that I can button all the way without having to buy one 2 sizes bigger because it doesn't make allowances for, shall we say, curves? Also, when I have to roll-up my sleeves 50 times on either arm, at the end of the day I look like one of those inflatable clowns with the slinky arms, and that is not a look I pull off well.
#2: Crocs - I know they're ugly, but I'd like to see if they make my feet feel like they want to kill me a little bit less. After all, those are the simple things in life that we're all looking for, right?
#3: More books!! I really want to get "About Professional Baking" by Gail Sokol, also the Chef at the bakery seemed shocked that I wasn't already subscribing to any "industry" magazines, so I should probably sign-up for "Dessert Professional" and "American Cake Decorating" (because those are the only ones I know about so far)
Other than that, things are going well, but I'm always being kept on my toes. The Chef's "right-hand man", let's call him...Santiago, well he speaks very limited English and since I don't know any Spanish, things have gotten off to an interesting start. For the most part we get along really well, but then again, 75% of the time we have no idea what the other one is saying which is really frustrating when he's the only one there telling me what to do b/c the Chef hasn't arrived yet. For example, for about an hour today he was convinced that I'd called him a cow because I'd asked him if his back hurt. Apparently cow in Spanish is "vaca" and when I said back, he thought that's what I said. Also, on one of my first days, the Chef asked me to slice a box of peaches (I'm pretty sure the first time I'd ever sliced a peach in my life), and Santiago kept pulling the cores out of the trash and biting off the bottoms, joke-yelling at me for throwing away good food! So, since I didn't want him to keep pulling things out of the trash, I started handing him the cores so he could eat and dispose of them as he wished, but when the Chef saw this he started laughing and yelled at me for "buying into his bullshit" and "feeding him like he's an Adonis." Believe me when I say this, not wanting to be grossed out by someone eating out of the trash does not equal treating them like an adonis - it equals me not throwing up on the kitchen floor, and that's something none of us want.
Spanish words successfully learned: 3
Nervous Breakdowns: 1
Hi everyone! It's hard to believe that I'm already a quarter of the way through with my internship. For the most part I am having a good time, but I'm sure it goes without saying (though since I have this lovely blog here, I'll say it anyway) that it's never exactly what you expect it to be.
When I started (about two weeks ago), there was another intern who had already been working there for a couple of weeks, let's call her...Majorca (What - you have a better pretend name? Just go with it...). So Majorca had finished her class about a month before I did, which meant that she had a different teacher - the same one who I had a couple of times as a sub when Chef Katie was out. I'd already heard (don't ask me how) that she was not doing that great and that she could be hard to deal with - sound like anyone we know? However, I wanted to keep an open mind, plus since she'd already been there for awhile, I figured she'd be way ahead of me. Boy was I ever wrong about that one! She WAS awful! She seemed a lot more concerned with asking me questions about my life plan than she was about doing anything at the bakery, so it came as no big surprise when she was let go from the placement before the end of my first week. She couldn't even make streusel! For those of you who don't know, streusel is a crumb topping that, in my experience, is usually made with butter, brown sugar, flour and cinnamon (sometimes with nuts, etc. added in) - it's also not particularly difficult to make. So one of my first days at the bakery, the Chef is having me top a bunch of pies with streusel and we were running low on the batch I'd been using. He tells me, "You're going to have to use Majorca's crappy streusel, it's in the fridge." I say, "Okay (looking), where is it?" He chuckles and says, "Oh you know, it's the one that looks like dough." So I pull out a sheet pan that, lo and behold, looks like a sheet of very thick, light dough. I try to break it apart to crumble it and it just comes apart in giant chunks - I could've beaten someone over the head with it. So then the Chef has to leave to go on a delivery and he looks at me and says, "Okay, you make some streusel while I'm gone." He leaves and I panic. What if this is the one time I screw it up and he thinks we're all just a bunch of idiots? Luckily that didn't happen. He came back and cried out, "She can make streusel! Thank God!" What a relief! I'm still in the program.
Since then my new chef and I have gotten along pretty well (don't worry CK - there's no one like you!), he even told me that he was already considering hiring me in September because he likes the way that I work (yay!). Though, I don't want to leave you with the misconception that I'm doing everything perfectly, because that couldn't be further from the truth; I have definitely made my fair share of mistakes already. I totally over baked some mini-cheesecakes today and was also told that my knife skills were "atrocious" and was then made to sit through a lesson on the proper way to hold a knife while the Chef pulled on it from various angles. I'm trying to take all of these mess-ups and corrections in stride, and I'm definitely glad to still be learning, but it's really hard to sit there, listen to someone criticize you and then essentially thank them for telling you just how badly you suck.
One thing that doing this internship has made me realize (and don't laugh) is how many things I still need to get! Now don't get me wrong, I'm not about to run out and buy anything crazy like a corn stick pan (love you Mark!), but there are other things that have started making their way onto my wish list:
#1: A real woman's chef jacket - Sorry CK, as much as you may tell me not to be jealous of your hip vents, I can't help it! I desperately want a jacket that doesn't come down to my knees, and that I can button all the way without having to buy one 2 sizes bigger because it doesn't make allowances for, shall we say, curves? Also, when I have to roll-up my sleeves 50 times on either arm, at the end of the day I look like one of those inflatable clowns with the slinky arms, and that is not a look I pull off well.
#2: Crocs - I know they're ugly, but I'd like to see if they make my feet feel like they want to kill me a little bit less. After all, those are the simple things in life that we're all looking for, right?
#3: More books!! I really want to get "About Professional Baking" by Gail Sokol, also the Chef at the bakery seemed shocked that I wasn't already subscribing to any "industry" magazines, so I should probably sign-up for "Dessert Professional" and "American Cake Decorating" (because those are the only ones I know about so far)
Other than that, things are going well, but I'm always being kept on my toes. The Chef's "right-hand man", let's call him...Santiago, well he speaks very limited English and since I don't know any Spanish, things have gotten off to an interesting start. For the most part we get along really well, but then again, 75% of the time we have no idea what the other one is saying which is really frustrating when he's the only one there telling me what to do b/c the Chef hasn't arrived yet. For example, for about an hour today he was convinced that I'd called him a cow because I'd asked him if his back hurt. Apparently cow in Spanish is "vaca" and when I said back, he thought that's what I said. Also, on one of my first days, the Chef asked me to slice a box of peaches (I'm pretty sure the first time I'd ever sliced a peach in my life), and Santiago kept pulling the cores out of the trash and biting off the bottoms, joke-yelling at me for throwing away good food! So, since I didn't want him to keep pulling things out of the trash, I started handing him the cores so he could eat and dispose of them as he wished, but when the Chef saw this he started laughing and yelled at me for "buying into his bullshit" and "feeding him like he's an Adonis." Believe me when I say this, not wanting to be grossed out by someone eating out of the trash does not equal treating them like an adonis - it equals me not throwing up on the kitchen floor, and that's something none of us want.
peaches!
My forearms are now, also, covered in jump-burns, which is a word I just made-up for the mini burns you get from accidentally grazing the side of a hot pan, pot, oven, etc. They look like bug bites and are just as annoying. Look at me, I'm just like Stephen Colbert - inventing words and everything...maybe I'll get in the dictionary too :)
I also have some new nemesis', and two of them aren't human. Two of them are mixers in the bakery and one is a person in the bakery, let's call him Tarrel (It's like Darrel, just with a T. Shut up, I think it's a good name!). So the mixers are just frustrating. The one is much larger than any I've used before and is hard to maneuver/adjust, etc.
Giant Mixer
Also, when I have to use it to make the sponge cake, the mixture fills it up so completely, that you have to wrap tinfoil around the top like a turtleneck so that it doesn't go spilling/flying every which way. However, the other day when I was making it for the first time, we didn't have any tinfoil...let it never be said that I'm not resourceful:
That would be a mixer with a cone made out of parchment paper and scotch tape. I suggested that I try knitting it a turtleneck, but something tells me that wool won't mix well with eggs and sugar.
Also, the only way to properly fold in the flour is to stick your entire hand in with a bowl scraper and fold it while someone else sprinkles the flour on top. This is me, elbow deep in the mixing bowl - delicious!
This is my deceptive nemesis. Sure, he looks tiny and harmless, but I'm still convinced that this mixer runs on diesel. You can't turn it on stir (the lowest setting) without the ingredients flying everywhere b/c it's going so fast. Eventually I asked the Chef what was going on with it, and he told me that at some point, someone had dropped it on the floor and that it hasn't worked right since. Awesome.
Now for my human nemesis, Tarrel. First of all, he likes to take every opportunity to make fun of Buffalo and me for being from Buffalo. In my opinion, he's already asking for it. In general, he's just obnoxious. Now mind you, I don't really react to him on an overt level to begin with (eye rolling, just looking at him or ignoring him), but he keeps feeling the need to tell me to just wait till I work in a kitchen with "a bunch of Spanish guys" because then he'll seem like nothing compared to them. Really? I keep suggesting ways to take him down a peg, and the Chef has already approved every one (and even given me suggestions), so I'll keep you posted on which ones I wind up going with.
And for a bit of fun, if you're one of the first people to guess which of the following names I've called Tarrel, you could win a container of homemade peanut brittle! So send those guesses in, either through the comment section or through e-mail:
1. Son of a cracker basket
2. Ass hat
3. Jerk face
4. Schlemiel
5. Putz
I'll leave you now with one final picture of my mise en place for 2 giant batches of brownies...
Salt on the rim isn't exactly the same as a sugar-crusted pitcher containing 24 eggs...
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The Final Four....Days of School
I can't believe that my last class was almost a week ago...didn't I just start school the other day? I know that the program is only 4 months in the classroom and 2 months in internship, but it feels so much shorter. Plus, due to scheduling and randomness, I don't start my internship until tomorrow morning so I've had a lot of downtime and a lot of time out of the kitchen which feels really weird now. Chef was right though, once you start in this business, even if you have a couple of days off you'll still find yourself baking. I made bread (garlic-herb and sun-dried tomato, if you're curious) twice so far this week, and I've been thinking about making some peanut brittle as well. Also, my school toolbox is now sitting in the middle of our kitchen floor - that seems like the best place for it, right?
So, yes, I got an internship! I'm very excited to announce that starting tomorrow morning I will be interning at the Main Street Bakery in Port Washington, NY. I'll still be on LI, but it's technically a shorter distance than I was driving to school so we'll see how it goes. Chef Mike (my new boss) seems pretty cool and he's got a lot of experience (Hotel Hershey - yum!) and I really feel like he not only has a lot to teach me, but that he wants to teach me. That is definitely something worth being excited about. I'm really going to miss being at school with all of my friends, and I'm a wee bit sad that I wasn't asked to be an intern at school to help with the next class (K & D - you're going to be awesome, I know it!), but I think that I'm going somewhere that's going to be a good fit for me, so in the end, that's what's important.
The last days of class were pretty intense in that it was 4 days of finals. On Monday we had to hand in our individual menu projects and then do our blind practicals. For the menus, we each had to come up with a theme and make an actual dessert menu, with at least 4 items on it that each had the following 4 elements:
So what do you think? I know Dave liked it because there were more fruit options, but I'd love to hear what everyone else thinks. For the blind practical, you basically walk into class and get a sheet of paper with the item you're making on it and the ingredients, but no instructions. I was stressing myself out over it so much, memorizing cake mixing methods and all sorts of craziness and didn't wind up getting any of the things I'd actually looked up! What I did get was fudgy chocolate brownies and fruit mousse. My mousse came out perfect, and while my brownies tasted fudgy-tastic, they wound up driving me crazy all morning. I used the wrong size pan so they were super-thick and took a crazy long time to bake. In the end I took them out of the oven, sliced them and stuck a couple on a plate in the fridge so that they'd be cool enough to present. Chef Katie said that they were slightly over-mixed and slightly under-done, but I'm still happy and was glad not to be stressed out about it anymore.
Tuesday and Wednesday were spent making our team menu projects. Julie and I had decided on making an ice cream bombe. It had a fudgy chocolate cake base, with a thick middle layer of peanut butter cheesecake and was topped with butterfinger ice cream. Then we garnished it with tuille cookies and strawberry sauce. I thought it looked and tasted awesome and I'm really proud of the work we did together. If you can believe it, the team that won fan favorite had everything possible happen to them in the lead-up to presentation. They broke a plate in their dessert, had to run out to the store for more fruit because we ran out, got a pretty nasty burn and if I remember correctly a bloody knuckle to boot (am I hallucinating that part and just making it sound worse, or did that actually happen?). Diana and Alex, my puffy hat comes off to you - the fact that all of that happened and you still managed to plate and present on time? Amazing. Here are some pictures of everyone's final desserts:
So, yes, I got an internship! I'm very excited to announce that starting tomorrow morning I will be interning at the Main Street Bakery in Port Washington, NY. I'll still be on LI, but it's technically a shorter distance than I was driving to school so we'll see how it goes. Chef Mike (my new boss) seems pretty cool and he's got a lot of experience (Hotel Hershey - yum!) and I really feel like he not only has a lot to teach me, but that he wants to teach me. That is definitely something worth being excited about. I'm really going to miss being at school with all of my friends, and I'm a wee bit sad that I wasn't asked to be an intern at school to help with the next class (K & D - you're going to be awesome, I know it!), but I think that I'm going somewhere that's going to be a good fit for me, so in the end, that's what's important.
The last days of class were pretty intense in that it was 4 days of finals. On Monday we had to hand in our individual menu projects and then do our blind practicals. For the menus, we each had to come up with a theme and make an actual dessert menu, with at least 4 items on it that each had the following 4 elements:
- Main Component
- Frozen Component
- Garnish
- Sauce
Cocoa and Kona Torte
flourless chocolate cake layered with crushed chocolate wafers
and kona coffee gelato, served with macadamia nut brittle and
raspberry coulis
Waffles and Ice Cream
mini vanilla-spiced waffles with haupia sauce,
ginger ice cream and toasted coconut
Kauai Strawberry Shortcake
guava chiffon cake layered with macerated strawberries, topped with
vanilla bean ice cream, crème chantilly and chocolate feuilletine cookies
Bananas Foster
caramelized bananas, coconut ice cream, rum sauce and
chocolate covered peanuts
Papaya and Lime
papaya sorbet in a tuille cup topped with candied ginger
and a honey-lime sauce
So what do you think? I know Dave liked it because there were more fruit options, but I'd love to hear what everyone else thinks. For the blind practical, you basically walk into class and get a sheet of paper with the item you're making on it and the ingredients, but no instructions. I was stressing myself out over it so much, memorizing cake mixing methods and all sorts of craziness and didn't wind up getting any of the things I'd actually looked up! What I did get was fudgy chocolate brownies and fruit mousse. My mousse came out perfect, and while my brownies tasted fudgy-tastic, they wound up driving me crazy all morning. I used the wrong size pan so they were super-thick and took a crazy long time to bake. In the end I took them out of the oven, sliced them and stuck a couple on a plate in the fridge so that they'd be cool enough to present. Chef Katie said that they were slightly over-mixed and slightly under-done, but I'm still happy and was glad not to be stressed out about it anymore.
Tuesday and Wednesday were spent making our team menu projects. Julie and I had decided on making an ice cream bombe. It had a fudgy chocolate cake base, with a thick middle layer of peanut butter cheesecake and was topped with butterfinger ice cream. Then we garnished it with tuille cookies and strawberry sauce. I thought it looked and tasted awesome and I'm really proud of the work we did together. If you can believe it, the team that won fan favorite had everything possible happen to them in the lead-up to presentation. They broke a plate in their dessert, had to run out to the store for more fruit because we ran out, got a pretty nasty burn and if I remember correctly a bloody knuckle to boot (am I hallucinating that part and just making it sound worse, or did that actually happen?). Diana and Alex, my puffy hat comes off to you - the fact that all of that happened and you still managed to plate and present on time? Amazing. Here are some pictures of everyone's final desserts:
Julie's and my dessert
Mark, Terrel and Scott
Diana and Alex
NiAdah and John
Val and Michele
Mihwa and Jen
Karyn and Jamie
Regina and Linda
Mary and Jen
Pretty amazing, right? Our last day, Thursday, was pretty laid back, but still full of craziness (which is, I'm sure, why you're still reading, eh?). I woke up extra early so that I could beat the traffic and get some extra studying in before our written final exam. I looked pretty funny sitting at a table by myself with all of my flashcards, like I was playing a really bizarre game of solitaire that depends on your ability to define autolyse or know where the sacher torte gets it's name from. We all took the test, and it really wasn't as bad as I was expecting. I got a few questions wrong, but I also got the extra credit question right, so I'm not too worried. The weirdest part of the day came after our test when we presented Chef Katie with our end of class gift. The whole class had decided to go in on a gift together - we all chipped in and we all signed the card and it seemed like Chef really appreciated our gift. But that's when the weirdness started...
So she's thanking us for the gift and it's starting to get all mushy when BB (knew it was going to be her!!) hands Chef another card. Okay, if she wants to give her a private goodbye card, that's fine. If it was me, I probably would've done it privately, but whatever. Then, she hands her another envelope. What's going on here? She got her a separate present? It took the Chef a really long time to figure out what it was, but if you weren't looking at her but at the rest of the class you would've seen that everyone else was looking around at each other trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I think that a lot of people, myself included, were pretty put off by the fact that she gave her own separate (and frankly weird) gift in front of the rest of the class when we'd all (she contributed to our gift as well) gone in on a class gift together. Plus, you should have seen the look on her face - so smug! I'll tell you one thing, I'm am feeling pretty fine about not having to see her again until graduation. Good thing she lives in another borough - hopefully I won't even run into her or have to mention the initials BB again.
The rest of the morning was spent playing Jeopar-Katie. We were split up into 4 groups and each group got a cowbell to ring in with. I'll admit it, my group was a little bit competitive...okay we were a lot competitive! And from the most unlikely source - our sweet little Mishy! The sweet, adorable girl who keeps insisting that my friend Monica is really her friend, and who blushes like a tomato every time she speaks is apparently game crazy. Twice during the game she blushed and said, "games aren't fun unless you win!" Of course after she said it she made her same Mishy face and giggled so it's hard not to laugh - so funny! Our team actually won the first 2 rounds hands down, but then came final Jeopar-Katie...oh final round, the demise of cocky teams around the world! We lost...we lost badly. But it all works out in the end because do you know what the prizes were for the team that won? Chocolate thermometers! If I had actually won, no one would've made it out of their alive - I should never be allowed near a chocolate thermometer again. We all remember this interaction...
Brooke: What is this red stuff all over my chocolate mold...
CK: You're bleeding!
Brooke: Oh my god! I am?! (throws hands in front of face, expecting to have cut off a finger)
Alex: You broke your thermometer again!
Brooke: Oh crap...
Good times everybody...good times. I'd really like to continue with this blog throughout my internship - if you're interested in still reading it, let me know! And until we all meet again at our graduation, here is the best class (in my oh-so-humble opinion) to come out of kitchen 4:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
