At The Bakery

As if my life didn't have enough craziness in it (or enough things of interest I seek to follow and spend time on), I have been interning at a bakery for the past few months (with only a couple of more remaining ... sigh!).

Why I haven't included it in this blog or posted it in the world outside of the protective bubble of close friends and family, I don't know. But here it is.

I never know what the day will hold every time I walk into the kitchen, apron tightly tied, mess rag tucked firmly and safely in its strings. I only know when the head baker shares the pastry chef's list. I could be scooping cookies, baking macaroons, or frosting cakes. Yesterday I was set to work with another baker. A spritely little baker who flies every where and had two major cake batters working at the same time, utilizing both available industrial mixers. One whipping egg whites for the German Chocolate cake and the other already creaming the butter for the lemon cakes. I could hardly keep tabs on her. She was flitting about and I couldn't keep my eyes focused on her.

What was amazing was that she always stopped long enough to pull me away from sifting flour, or weighing egg whites to have me look at the batter in its various stages, to know when the butter was properly creamed, to know at what point you could incorporate more of the beaten eggs, to know how much of the flour and at what speed you should pour in to the batter before alternating with the liquid.

Flitting about but moving almost in slow motion when I heard "Chica, come here."