I can't believe that it's been almost a year since I graduated from the French Pastry School, moved back to Madison, and began this crazy journey doing something that I love. I sat here a few years ago and wondered if I was making a huge mistake by changing my career path, and while I still have those doubts, they have become more few and far between.
My restaurant life, as I've come to call it, is crazy. Some weeks are defined by stress and anxiety - will I finish my work? Will I spill my entire batch of anglaise in the cooler? Will a coworker crank my oven temperature up and ruin my apple chips tonight?
And other times my weeks are defined by seasonal produce and celebrations. Beautifully ripe peaches fresh from the market. Maple syrup tapped just last week from the Amish community who also make our dining furniture. A special birthday, a 50 year anniversary.
Working in the restaurant has given me courage. I'm encouraged to speak my mind and I'm valued for my creativity. I bounce delicious ideas for a living, and make them come alive. My restaurant family test my patience and rough house like brothers do, but come to my side when I need them. And they make one heck of a staff meal.
I am a pastry chef. I won't always be, but for right now it feels good.
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