I’m mathphobic. Numbers make me completely nuts, especially when I have to scale up or down a recipe. “Who left this long division on the bench,” asked Flour baker Keith Brooks, waving a paper towel with calculations written on it. I ‘fessed up. Sheepishly. “What? I’m impressed. It’s so old school. Everyone else here uses […]
I spent what little time I had in New York last Sunday morning scoping out — and sampling the offerings — at various Big Apple bakeries. Because that’s just what I do. It’s really not my fault. My husband is still peeved that our family spent most of our time in Lisbon at Casa Pasteis […]
I thought I was done. Not only with the 3-feet-plus of snow piled up on my lawn, but with my kitchen. After yet another weekend hunkered down in the house where I baked, seared, sautéed, slow-cooked and fired up my dishwasher every 2 hours, I couldn’t bear to re-enter the kitchen today. Besides, I think […]
It’s been awhile since my last post. But, you see, I’ve helped to start a business. Our new venture is called Goat Cottage Farm. It’s a gluten-free, dairy-free bakery in Westport. That’s right, gluten-free and me. I apprenticed at Flour for crying out loud. My partner in this adventure into the land of sorghum flour […]
Who leaves a three-month bakery apprenticeship and just days later feels confident enough to bake for 400 people? Of course, that would be me. Full disclosure: I never baked anything at Flour Bakery + Cafe during my tenure. They don’t let the interns near the ovens except for toasting nuts, which I did many times […]
…which set the tone for my first day of the week at Flour. Simply stated, I was a total spaz yesterday. Not only did I lack sleep, my routine was altered, and now I’m worried I’ve morphed into a perimenopausal cat. Working on maybe 5 hours of sleep, I drove — in a downpour — […]
The Second Act of my life began yesterday at 6:50 a.m. when I entered the doors at Flour Bakery + Café with a smile on my face and chef’s pants in my tote bag. I left 11 hours later with the same smile, dirty chefs pants and a sense of pride. Sadly, I could barely walk. […]