Beginning at the beginning
My new job is not glamorous. There are sandwiches to heat up, oozing with thick slices of cheese, and frozen pre-portioned cookies to bake. There’s prep for various bigger dishes, like blind-baking quiche crusts and caramelizing onions. My favorite thing to do is pipe the made-to-order madeleines, which requires a finesse in rounding off the little tails of dough that try to hang over the top. My least favorite thing to do is line the cookie cups with chocolate, which must be flawless so that when hot milk is poured into them it doesn’t make the cookie soggy.
My station is on the main floor, at the far end of the long narrow space that runs along the pastry case, next to the ovens. Generally I’m working on production for several bigger projects, while keeping track of what’s in the oven, and picking up orders for sandwiches, soup, and quiche whenever they come in. I get one half hour break, but other than that I am always busy. I’m surprised to find that I don’t mind standing all day. And though I get bored of the tedious tasks, it’s not quite the same lethargy of zoning out during a Zoom meeting. At night, just lying on the couch feels like sinking into a hot tub, comfort spreading through every joint and extremity as they find stillness. I’ve slept well every night since I started.
Still, doubts crowd my mind about whether it’s the best place to learn. I don’t particularly care to get quicker at packaging sandwiches. I was originally told I’d be working nights, and I might try to talk myself into that role if it means getting closer to the dough. I don’t want to seem uppity, like I’m trying to jump the queue of entry level work, but at the same time I’m not sure it’s necessary to “pay my dues” by doing work that doesn’t teach me much. I wonder if there are other smaller places where I could be learning more. But then it’s also the pandemic. There just isn’t that much work, and I don’t have the experience for the job listings I see. I’m still supposed to do an externship at a restaurant, but that doesn’t feel possible until spring or early summer.
I wonder about my colleagues. Some people have been here for awhile — a year, a few years — and they’re skillful and energetic and I wonder where they’re planning to go with their careers. There isn’t a whole lot of room for upward mobility within the company; there’s a sous chef and a couple of managers who have different sorts of administrative responsibilities, but it’s not like the other workers like me are going to be inventing the next world-renowned pastry. I know most jobs everywhere are about executing someone else’s vision for someone else’s profit; it’s something I’ve struggled with in any industry I’ve entered. It just feels particularly acute when the work is tedious and it’s aimed at the supposed moment of joy a customer feels when a marshmallow flower springs open in their hot chocolate. The joy is real often enough, I suppose. Is that what motivates my colleagues to build quality into what they’re doing?
I’ve had two days off this week, Tuesday and Wednesday, and all I wanted to do with them is cook. I made big pots of nourishing savory food, packing in as many vegetables as I could. Tempeh bolognese with carrots, onion, and bell pepper. African peanut stew with black-eyed peas. Braised collard greens with ginger. Oaty nutty jam dot cookies (recipe below). With the fridge full of quart containers, I felt armed for my week, which began on Thursday. The weekend has been Valentine’s Day chaos, which is exciting in its way. The front of house staff get so high on adrenaline it spreads to the rest of us.
I’m getting a very special valentine today. While I was at work, Anthony’s been refreshing the NYC covid vaccination form, since I’m now eligible as a restaurant worker. On Friday night I came home to a box of fancy caramels and nestled inside, a printed-out appointment confirmation for a Bronx vaccine clinic for this morning. He's going to come all the way up the 4/5, transfer to the 6 and we'll get breakfast after.