Good Pie, Good Pie, Until We Eat Again

Posted on August 26, 2014 by gretchenwing

“Let me give you my card.” That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear myself say.

It’s not that I didn’t think of myself as a professional when I taught high school. It’s just…who needs a teacher’s card, for goodness’ sake?

“For all your Shakespearean quotation needs…”

Right.

And now that I work at Holly B’s Bakery (“Holly’s Buns Are Best”) I need one even less. Everyone who’s ever been to my island, and many who haven’t, knows Holly B’s.

But last fall I was invited by a friend to bake pies for her daughter’s wedding. Since I am a Pie Maven, and since pie is one of the few items Holly B’s does not bake, I happily said yes.

The wedding’s in August? Sure, no prob. What else could possibly be going on in August?

I worked with the bride to create a list of a dozen pies with assorted fillings and crusts. Then I pretty much forgot about the gig for the next several months. Until we received a wedding invitation for the son of a dear friend in Oregon, for August 23. At that point it occurred to me that I’d never written in the actual date of the pie-wedding.

Sure enough: August 23.

OK. We can do this.

Remember: pies aren’t cakes. Sure, you can make a wedding cake a day or two ahead…even weeks, if you freeze the layers. Pies? No way. Gotta be FRESH. At least my pies do. I had to be able to deliver them that morning, then somehow get myself onto a ferry early enough to drive the 6 1/2 hours to Eugene for the 3:00 ceremony.

The Mate, of course, wanted to drive down a day to two ahead like a civilized person. But after investigating various combinations of bus, train, and even plane rides to get me to Eugene, we finally concluded that the only way was to take the 6:25 boat together, then drive down together (otherwise we’d end up driving home separately as well).

Did I mention what a great guy The Mate is? He accepted the mission.

So I made my shopping lists and got my materials together. Then, just a week before Pie Wedding Day, I had this thought: maybe I should have a business card!

It’s not that I really want to start a new business venture, baking on commission. It’s just…well…if someone really liked my pies, and that someone wanted to order one, well…I do hate disappointing people. Right?

So. Cards. Let me remind y’all that I am not only a techno-wuss, but extremely…let’s see, what’s the opposite of gifted?…in the graphic arts arena.

Luckily I AM blessed with two valuable gifts: punnishness, and good friends.

The tag line for the card came easily to me. And the design came easily to my friend Susan. The proud result:

Oh, and the pies? Yeah, I got this.

Fillings prepped–check.

Blackberry lattice, Strawberry-Apricot, and…oh shoot, what’s that other one?

Add a little lovin’ from the oven…

To conclude this non-story: all 12 pies were delivered safely in the baker’s hours of the wedding morning. The Mate and I made the ferry, and he did most of the driving so I could catch up the sleep I’d missed from baking late and rising early. He is still speaking to me. And we made the Oregon wedding with no problem, and much love.

…et voila! Pack those babies up!

And now–will I start practicing saying “Let me give you my card?” I’ll have to get back to you on that. I really have no ambitions to start a new business.

But if it happens–I’ll be ready.

So here’s a fun question for y’all to chew on: if you were ever to dream of having your own business, what would it be? What would your card say? If you already have one, what DOES your card say?

Happy “Independence” Day to All You Small Business Owners…Bless Your Hearts!

Posted on July 4, 2014 by gretchenwing

When I left teaching to become a baker, some of my former students were confused. “How’s your bakery?” I would sometimes see on Facebook.

Well, they were half right. I do feel like it’s MY bakery, especially when I unlock the doors at oh-dark-thirty and turn our oven on. But in truth, Holly B’s Bakery (“Holly’s Buns Are Best”) is not MINE…for which I thank my lucky stars. Especially at this time of year.

For a little bakery in a town with a tourist-dependent economy, July Fourth is Black Friday and the post-Christmas sales all wrapped up in one buttery croissant. Or make that 250 croissants.

Our kitchen is TINY. Three bakers have to squeeze past each other. We have only one oven. But the food must be baked! Here, I’ll try to give you some visuals:

Can you imagine the planning all this bounty requires? The ordering, the scheduling, the storage? What if you get it wrong? What if you run out of chocolate chips? What if you bake too many pesto baguettes and not enough of the olive tapenade? What if you make too much? What if you don’t make enough?

How does Holly ever sleep in late June (let alone continue to be the World’s Nicest Boss)???

Holly’s oldest son, Ty, is now co-owner (and the World’s Second Nicest Boss). Maybe it eases the stress to have someone to plan with. I sure hope so!

I LOVE my job. I love “my” bakery. But around Independence Day, I am extra-super grateful that I’m fairly “independent” of the stress of being in charge, and I take my hat off to all those brave souls who carry that load.

Happy Independence Day, business owners! Now go get some sleep.

How ’bout you? Do you own your own business? ARE you your own business? Or do you have that in your family? How do people COPE????

Life of Pie: Crusty Author Gives Flaky Secrets

Posted on September 28, 2013 by gretchenwing

Fill in the blank: “It’s as American as apple _________.”

Not cupcakes. Not tarts. Not even empanadas. PIE, damnit. As far as I’m concerned, pie is IT and always will be.

I’m a pie girl from way back. My family had an apple tree that bore gazillion apples every September. Not too great for eating, but nice and tart, perfect for–no, not tarts!! PIE. I made two pies every day for as long as those apples kept coming, one for our dinner and one for the freezer.

I got pretty good at pie.

Over the years, I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon: people are afraid of pie crust. They tell me horror stories of bad pie-crust trips that scarred them for life and sent them running, thereafter, for the frozen-food section to buy nice, safe flaky ones made by a machine. Or they gave up completely and just bought the whole pie. (Or went gluten-free, but that’s another story.)

Or, like the World’s Nicest Boss, Holly B (of Holly B’s Bakery, where “Holly’s Buns Are Best”), they moved permanently to the land of pie surrogate: Crumble. Tart. Danish.

When I first started working for Holly three years ago, she told me, “I’m scared of pie.” This is a woman who can make croissants from scratch that dissolve into a million tiny buttery leaves on your tongue. If SHE’S scared of pie…well, dang. That must be one scary pastry.

I bugged her, off and on for three years, to let me make a pie sometime and sell it. Granted, until this year my status as Assistant Baker was not much of a bully pulpit. But once I started Head Baking, a couple of months ago, I became more of a pie bully.

Me: So, Holly, will you let me make a pie sometime?

Holly: Well, sure…

Me: How about tomorrow?

Holly: Well, we still have more than half a marionberry crumble to sell…Let’s use that up first, then maybe…

Finally last month she relented, probably just to shut me up. I was SO excited, I brought my own ingredients with me to work: the instant tapioca that I use for thickener (which the bakery doesn’t carry) and my own blackberries picked from the roadside, plus a couple of nectarines bought from a stand. I wanted my pie to make a statement.

Like most people, I prefer my stories with happy endings, so I’ll try to manufacture one for this anecdote. My pie sold out, while the marionberry crumble did not. People said nice things. And I got to see, for one brief shining moment, a “Gretchen’s Fresh Blackberry-Nectarine Pie” sign out on our bakery counter (in fact, the sign was Holly’s idea–told you she was the World’s Nicest Boss).

Too bad I didn’t take a picture, ’cause that sign hasn’t been back, not even in a different flavor. The problem? I didn’t bring my A game when I needed it most. Using the Cuisinart for the first time threw me off (I don’t own one, so I always make my crust by hand). I cut the butter too small, reducing FP (flakiness potential) by half. And, scared of overly gloppy pie slices when my masterpiece was cut, I overdid it on the instant tapioca. The result was a delicious-tasting blackberry-nectarine medley with the consistency of…let’s say slightly melted gummi bears.

Holly was not impressed. Of course, being the World’s Nicest Boss, all she said was, “Let’s work together to find a crust recipe we both like, shall we?” Nothing about the gummi bears. I made a personal vow to hit one out of the park on my next pie at-bat. But I didn’t get the chance. August passed into September, our bakery hours began to wane, and I began to resign myself to another year of pielessness…

…until last week, when Holly invited me to make an apple…tart.

Hey, fruit in a crust? Sounds like pie to me.

Not. Gonna. Mess. This. Up.

We used her recipe. I watched the Cuisinart like a hawk and shut it off when the butter chunks were still the size of almonds. Then I mixed the water in by hand like I do at home. And since we were using apples instead of berries–no tapioca to worry about, just a little flour & some spices.

The result:

It’s called a Rustic Tart for a reason, OK?

I like my stories with morals too, so here’s one: Perseverance pays. That “Rustic Apple Tart” was so ridiculously flaky and delicious, both Holly’s and my confidence soared. Yesterday she told me, “I want you to keep doing that.”

And you know what? I will. I’ll make Rustic Tarts every day if she wants. Only in my head, I’ll be calling them pies.

Since you’ve read so far, here’s your reward: Gretchen’s Three Secrets to Perfect Flaky Crust.
1. Use ALL BUTTER. Yes, Crisco makes flakes. But it also tastes like Crisco. And a butter crust is delicious even a few days later, while a Crisco crust just tastes like…soggy Crisco. Good ratio: 2 cups flour/ 8 oz. butter

2. Leave the butter in ALMOND-SIZED CHUNKS when you cut it into the flour.

3. Use ICE WATER to moisten your crust.

4. When moistening dough, DON’T SQUEEZE. Handle it as little as possible. It should be very tender. If it breaks, so what? It’s dough. Stick it back together with some water.

OK, I lied–that was Four Secrets. But yeah, I’m a little flaky.

If you must, weigh in with your own PIE SECRETS. But I probably won’t listen. On this topic, I’m a tad close-minded.

World of Warcraft With a Side of Butter

Posted on August 11, 2013 by gretchenwing

Those of you who know me, in real life and/or through this blog, know that I’m ~~a complete fossil~~ not the most current in areas of popular culture. So you might be surprised to learn that I now know ~~all there is to know~~…~~a ton~~…~~quite a bit~~…something about World of Warcraft.

“Yup, Gretchen’s in my Guild. Why’s that so hard to believe?” (orig. image courtesy ivy.com)

Why this sudden interest in something I’ve previously only made fun of, in a baffled, old-fogey way? It’s all because of my sleep schedule.

Tuesday night I stayed up till midnight, first playing in a community concert on another island, then riding the late ferry home. Wednesday morning I got up at 4 a.m. to bake.

So: 4 hours’ sleep. At my age, not too many brain cells are ready for minimal function with that kind of rest, let alone following recipes. I had to do SOMETHING to keep myself alert.

So I asked my colleague Ty to explain World of Warcraft to me.

Now you might think this would cause either a) a spontaneous nap, since I couldn’t relate to anything he was telling me, or b) disastrous distraction from my baking, resulting in salty brioches or eggless muffins. But, to my amazement, and probably to Ty’s, a third result occurred: focused fascination.

Every time Ty would answer one of my questions, two new ones would pop up, Sorcerer’s-Apprentice-broom style. Example #1:

ME: So…When you join a Guild, you sort of protect each other?
TY: Yeah, there’s usually someone whose job it is to take the Damage, and someone else to Heal, while…blah blah blah (you don’t think I actually remember this stuff, do you??)

ME: Do you have to agree on those roles in advance? And what if someone says they’re on your team but it’s really just a trap so they can attack you?

Example #2:

ME: So you can choose to be, like, a good guy or a member of the Horde?

TY: Yeah. Kinda depends on how aggressive you like to be…

ME: But even if you’re a troll or an orc or something, you can still be a hero, right? You still have a back story and a conflict and a quest to fulfill just like any other character, right? Wow, this sure turns the fictional model of monolithic antagonist on its head! (yeah, you’re right, I didn’t really say it like that. But that’s what I was thinking, or at least what I started thinking about later once my entire brain got out of bed.)

My point is, it was INTERESTING. The morning flew by. My brioches and muffins came out fine. And my brain has been darting around these questions ever since–questions like:

how much internal conflict is necessary to create a well-rounded character? Can your WOW avatar just act and react without you needing to know why s/he acts that way?
what does your choice of avatar say about your hopes & dreams & general psychological makeup, including your willingness to put that out there for others to wonder about?
if antagonists are the heroes of their own stories, does that fundamentally change the nature of an antagonist?

“I’m SO conflicted!” (orig. image courtesy chromeposter.com)

So, lesson learned: asking about popular culture can be at least as fun as plain old getting involved in it. Try being a cultural anthropologist sometime in something you’re a complete moron about–True Blood? manga? dim sum?–and see how much fun you have.

In fact, why don’t you tell me: if there was one bit of pop culture you could get someone to explain to you, what would it be? What–or whom–would you ask?

Promotion? Careful What You Wish For…

Posted on August 7, 2013 by gretchenwing

I’m a head baker now.

No, this does not mean I bake heads. (Although if you prepped ’em for me just right, I would pop ’em in my oven & make sure the eyelids came out nice & crispy.)

Need I say more?

Here’s what the Assistant Baker does at Holly B’s Bakery (where “Holly’s Buns Are Best”):

–takes dough made during the previous shift and fills, rolls, and/or twists it into cinnamon rolls, butterhorns, brioches & rugelach

–scoops or chops and presses cookie dough into flat rounds

–makes macaroons and chocolate chip cookies from scratch (these doughs don’t keep as well, plus our fridge isn’t that big)

–assembles & cuts out scones & biscuits with pre-made dry mixes

–makes brownies & bars….

…and puts all of the above on racks for the Head Baker to decide when to bake.

“You WILL be the most delicious croissants ever. Resistance is futile.”

Here’s what the Head Baker does:

–makes bread doughs & sets them up to rise

–rolls out, fills & assembles danish and about a zillion different kinds of croissants, working FAST so the cold dough doesn’t get sticky and refuse to roll

–shapes, rises and bakes all bread loaves, including our filled baguettes (can you say carmelized onion and brie? Mais oui!)

–bakes everything the Assistant Baker puts on the racks, keeping in mind a) how long each item might need to rise; b) how long each item might use up oven space; c) how hot said oven needs to be for said item; and d) when each item is needed up front.

Here’s what an Assistant Baker Worries About:

Am I making this right?

Here’s what a Head Baker Worries About:

Am I making this right? Am I rising anything so long it flattens? Are my ovens hot enough or too hot? Am I burning anything, or underbaking it so it falls apart when de-panned? Am I missing any special orders that need to be picked up by, God help us all, 7 am? Am I noticing whether we’re running out of any ingredients that the next shift will need? Am I paying attention to my Assistant Baker’s work in case, God help us all, she’s as much a rookie as I am?

You get the idea.

Friends from my former life, who knew I walked away from 20 years of teaching high school into a blessedly, no, miraculously stress-free life of writing and assistant baking, are now a little baffled. “You want more stress in your life…why, exactly?”

Here’s all I can tell them, all I can tell myself: After three years on the JV, I wanted to join the Varsity.

Yep, it’s more stressful. I’m already starting to dream about those little oven timers going off like panicked baby ducks. (For the record, I still dream about trying to teach out-of-control classrooms too; guess that stays with a teacher for life!)

But it is WORTH it. If I was proud of my work before, now, as a HEAD BAKER, when I see those racks of bread that I BROUGHT INTO THIS WORLD FROM RAW INGREDIENTS AND DID NOT BURN, I want to grab the nearest customer and yell, “Hey! Aren’t they gorgeous? I MADE those! Eat them! Bow down to me!”

Of course, it’s only been a week. I’ll get back to you on the stress thing.

How about you? Ever felt like you’ve bitten off more than you could chew, workwise? Ever decided it was worth it anyway? Tell me your story. You know I’ll relate.

In my PROFESSIONAL Opinion, Holly’s Buns are Best

Posted on April 23, 2013 by gretchenwing

When I left the teaching profession, I told folks I wasn’t retiring, I was just graduating. “Took me 20 years, but I finally get to walk across that stage!” Cue laughter.

Timken Roller Bearing Co., calendar, September 1950, teacher at desk

Old me (just kidding). Courtesy George Eastman House

New me.

But really, that is how I feel. Who retires at age 49 except Microsoft millionaires? Sure, I have a new “job” as a writer. But I’m backing that up, financially as well as socially, with my job at Holly B’s Bakery.

Everyone I talk to thinks baking is cool. Everyone shows awe and admiration at how early we bakers have to get up (3:45, for me–make that 3:15 in high summer when we get super busy). And everyone jokes about how hard I must have to work not to gain a million pounds from all those fresh, hot, crusty croissants and scones and…OK, I’ll stop.

Point is, they’re right: baking IS cool, getting up early IS hard, and yes, I exercise my buns off (Ha! Pun!) to stay gorgeous.

But lately The World’s Best Boss, Holly B, has an ample supply of bakers on her payroll and not enough counter people. So she’s put me on counter this month, selling all those yummy treats that my colleagues have risen early to bake.

Need I say more?

So the conversation’s changed a bit:
“What do you do?”
“I work part-time at a bakery.”
“Oh, you’re a baker!”
“Well, these days I’m just working the front counter.”
“…”

Apparently retail–even in the world’s cutest bakery, the heart of our village–is not cool. More accurately, it is not “professional.” That is the (unspoken) message I get from people who knew me in my old life. Selling muffins? That’s all you do? With a Masters in History and 20 years of teaching? Why…?

The long answer is, Because my boss needs me to, and I adore her, and feel I am more part of a team than merely an employee. Because even though there’s not much skill involved (besides addition, and I’m kind of embarrassed to say how often I reach for that calculator, especially towards the end of the day), I love people and miss interacting with them. Writing is lonely. And because, at the end of the day when I’ve mopped the floor, turned off the lights and locked up, I feel just as much pride in my work as when I tucked a dozen perfectly-twisted butterhorns into the oven.

But more and more I feel inclined to give the short answer: Work is work. I don’t feel any less “professional” selling cinnamon rolls and asking folks how their day is going than I did grading essays. If you care about your job and give it your best attention, you are, in my opinion, a professional.

My esteemed colleague, Diana

I know some of you must have experience with this. Tell me about a time when you felt a huge gap between how YOU felt about your work, and the reactions of other people. How did you–or how do you–handle that? Let me hear!