Coincidence?

A few weeks after I moved to Seattle to begin my master's degree in photography, somebody broke into my apartment and stole all of my cameras. I spent most of my first year in the program trying to figure out how to rethink my ideas about my work with a plastic camera instead. My work spiraled down quite substantially. I lost my focus, instead shifting into some pretty sloppy ideas that I could never express. I became more interested in reading articles than making work, and by the time my thesis was due, my work was even more uncentered, although nice to look at, the concept and the visual just never seemed to mesh. Perhaps it was losing my cameras so early in the game, perhaps it was the wrong medium. In any case, I'm glad to have found pastry, to which my true artistic vision can be achieved, albeit through some struggles, with usually consistent results.

I started to feel that same panic when I realized my oven would not cooperate. It's currently jumping around between 350 and 500 degrees, and if you know a little bit about baking, that's not a good thing. I burned another two pans of scones this morning, so people, that oven's got to go. Ten years ago, I was a photographer without a camera, and now I'm a baker without a reliable oven. I'm so glad I'm not going to let it get me down.

Anything is Possible

If somebody can try to sell a used cup of Starbuck's coffee at Value Village, anything is possible. It's officially 2008 and I am putting the past year of struggles behind me, setting my sights on shaping a fabulous bakery and pastry shop now that we're open. (Notice that I didn't say "finally" open, which would have implied that I was still bitter about the tremendous sweat and tears extolled over trying to get the bakery open.)

Last week, my husband and I met with a local newspaper writer while I did the morning baking. We talked about a lot of stuff, mostly about my husband's cancer, and how that made it so difficult for us to handle the struggles of trying to get permits to build out the bakery. We seemed to dwell on that topic quite a bit, so much so that we neglected to talk about the pastries themselves. I noticed the writer on several occasions staring at the pastry case; she seemed to be searching for the story of the pastries inside. I asked the writer if she had her "hook" to write the story. When she answered a tentative "maybe", I knew right then that with all the struggles of the past year, I had lost who I was as a pastry chef. I had worn so many other hats, the electrician, lighting designer, ditch digger, etc. So I suppose this is a perfect time to reinvent myself as a pastry chef, to find that funny little voice inside that has all the great creative ideas, and what perfect time than New Year's day.