eggbeater

london bakeries & bakers gossip.

i have to share some fun tidbits with you. shhhh, they're secrets. tee hee.
i used to work here, The Big Gun. the company was started in 1991 by the formidable She. now it is owned by two businessmen. it's a massive enterprise in Hendon with 3 factions/departments: The Cake Department, BMG (Viennoisserie) & Bread.

A number of years later She started an amazing food shop and ran these well known london bakeries too. She also has a small part of opening one of the most beautiful chocolate shops.

right after valentine's day of this year, her bakeries were bought by a company that should barely be allowed to call itself a bakery. that company fired just about everyone and still owes them months of back pay.
but i digress.

if you read the Tamasin Day-Lewis piece well, you'll notice that one of the chefs is now a main chef (and partner) at this other incredible london food shops/restaurants/pastry shops. yes, and the name of the business comes from someone else who worked for She.

one of the pastry chefs let go in the massive bakery take over in February started consulting for this bakery chain about 3 months ago.

this bakery chain was not begun by She, even though it's her name.
She has nothing to do with this bakery chain, even though the website might tell you different.
this bakery chain's products are produced in The Big Gun's Cake Department.
this bakery chain is just one of thousands of customers of The Big Gun and the Cake Department.
this bakery chain is owned by a He. yes, the same one of the two he's who own The Big Gun.
this bakery chain has just launched a new product line. you can eat it at 2 of their four stores. Clapham & Hampstead.

but massive product launches for one specific customer coming from a department producing 40,000 units a month (not an exaggeration) need extra pastry chefs.

and here's the clincher.
if it weren't full circle/incestuous/crazy small world enough yet.

The Big Gun, who owns the small bakery chain, named after She who started The Big Gun, the same She who went on to open the most gorgeous, delicious series of bakeries/food shops London had ever seen, and then hired two he's who would open (an eponymous) very similar businesses to Hers

are now the company whose pastry chefs are leaving it to help this bakery chain.

could you die? it's so amazingly ridiculous.

how could it be that a city as big as London is being baked for by a handful of pastry chefs/bakers?

one last thing. the people behind this shop will soon be opening a bakery. guess where the pastry chef/baker behind that venture worked last?

summer in the city. /july.

this is summer in the city.
wanton.
fetid fruit.
salt sweat lick lips
forehead wipe
going commando
sand between toes
watermelon
watermelon
ices, ice melting, sweaty glasses,
one long nap
sheetless sleep
clothesless sleep
mice in the oven
salad for dinner
gazpacho
tomato sandwiches
unbuttoned shirts
ties, despised.

this is summer in the city
teenage sex
drinking on the corner
nights as long as days
days that never end
months that never change.

this is summer in the city
coney island
the boardwalk
raw clams
little paper umbrellas
blow up pools on the sidewalk
unforgiving bodies
every age in every bathing suit
white skin aflame red
black barber shops packed every night
white t shirts
stoop conversations
walking the dog at 3 am.

this is july.

base. bottom. flat.
surely summer even if june didn't put out.
sticky, humid, smoggy, still air, dirty hair,
peeling skin.

JULY.

unapologetic.
no reprieve.
get on the train, get in the car, roll the windows down, flirtatious feet on the dash
show a little skin
let go your inhibitions
steal kisses
rest in the walk in
wrap a towel in ice and feel it drip down your back, breasts
short skirt
stare
catcall
chew gum
play dominoes
salsa music
white sneakers
hidden agendas
take chances
gamble on the unforgiveable
a pinch of this and a slap of that.

summer.

hot as fuck.
hot kitchens.
hot machines.
hot subways.

dogs panting
children passed out in arms, prams, mussed beds.

this is summer in the city
go to the movies
see a film
wear a sweater on the hottest day
in the coldest air conditioning
swim in the ocean
chew ice
fool
you ain't no fool
gooseberry fool
monkey in the middle  tomfoolery.

this is
summer
j u l y
in the city.

sticky pavement
tattoos
reckless
headlights out
bareback
broken glass
hidden in beach sand
dancing in the street
coming out
packing
confident
high heels
sleeveless dress
tank tops
peaches nectarines cherries apricots green herbs
coco helado.

this is summer in the city.
tropical concrete
city pools
city parks
cruising
urban beaches
the ice cream truck
stickball
rollerskates
first love
sleepaway camp
mosquitoes, canoeing, whisper me your friendship
melt me like marshmallows on chocolate
look up at a canopy of trees
focus on the horizon
sleep outside
picnic at the edge of the sea.
fuck me hard
forget me in the morning
leave laces untied
peel a mango back
teeth
face covered in yellow pulp.

july.
gratuitous heat, pie, watermelon seeds, bbq, sea swimming, shave head, ink a needle and push it into skin.

summer.
i hope you get all you can

picnic at the westernmost point, isle of skye, scotland.

all you know is that you want to picnic.


you don't know the land
as it rolls out in front of the car.

you look at the map
of this place you've never been
and you pick up a few nibbles
carrots, flatbread, 'crowdie' a scottish cheese, dark chocolate digestives (he says he can eat too many), blueberries, tangerines, juice. salt & sweet.


all you know
is that you want to eat outside
sit away from the wind
but still in the glorious sun.
you get to the neist point lighthouse. park.
all you can see are cliffs and blue blue sea
land stretches out before you: sharp and steep, rocky and open.


so you walk towards the edge
even though it doesn't look like much
your heart is open
wide open


and what looks like a few boulders
under tufts of grasses
is the place.
and very very carefully,


because the sheer drop is obvious,

you both settle in
completely hidden
embraced by rocks
and unfurl your little picnic
right there
at the edge of scotland.

gorgeous.

Underground Restaurant by @MsMarmitelover. Kilburn, London 13.06.09

you have been on twitter for a while
but when you move 8000 miles away twitter becomes something else, explodes
suddenly it's like when you first met the internet
everything new, you are innocent and trusting
and go to people's houses
you've never met, in Real Life, before.
Oneday
in the land of
nothingness that is neither working nor vacationing
you get a DM
'hey-- you wanna be a guest chef at my Underground Restaurant?' the person's name is @MsMarmitelover.
you say yes and head to her house
even though you have no idea what train you're on and how to get there.

you both talk about a lot of things.
but what catches your breath is that you speak of one of your most favoritest dishes to make and eat
EGGPLANT PARMESAN
you both agree:
when it's Done Right
it takes all day.
and an idea is born.


you know British strawberries will arrive just before June 13
and you don't know what you'll make for pudding/dessert
but you know it will be All About Those Amazing Strawberries.

while you've never been to or cheffed at an Underground Restaurant, you've done a fair amount of onsite catering and know you can handle it. you don't sweat the small stuff and you can pass on a few restaurant tricks. but it's not about any of that. it's about
COLLABORATION
COMRADERIE
COMMUNITY
ACCESS
REVOLUTION
HOME
HEART
GENEROSITY
delicious food.



to see the menu in it's entirety, photographed by the fabulous @MsMarmitelover, go to her blog The English Can Cook. The craziest thing you'll see is me in a dress in the kitchen !

My favourite lines from her inital post on our dinner:
"Shuna Fish Lydon is a specialist in patisserie and custards. What she doesn't know about eggs is not worth knowing."

*

For the photos I managed to catch between prep, plate-up, keeping tidy and generally taking in the whole scene with my heart and mind, check out my set on Flickr.

~

Underground Restaurants -
putting the u back in Guerilla.

/this is what i want to say about love.

what is the gift?
is the gift loving another or
just loving.
is love a gift at all
or is just
love.
you should ever put just before love
love is bigger than that.

i feel open
i feel broken
i feel naked
i feel am exposed

the gift of love is feeling love
starting from that place
filling you up
where pleasure starts
abdomen meets thighs
it melts me
melts you
light
it's all light
i can't feel my legs
i don't know where i am
but i'm traveling
rocketing -

you're taking me there
{but are you?}
/or is it me?

/this is what i want to say about love
don't be scared of it
sit inside it
even though
it's absolutely terrifying.

i've fallen in love with you and all you want to do is run away
run
get on a plane
disappear
run through the woods
get deep inside
when even a compass can't find your way out
bury you deep

i hold your face inside my hands
and kiss your eyelids
i tell you it will be alright
i place my hands, mouth between your legs
i pleasure you
i feed you delicious food
i take you to where the sky opens up
and swallows us whole
i pull heavy camera to my eye
and you say no.
i tell you your rules are not my rules
i tell you i will never tell.
secret
you are secret
i am your secret.

what is the gift of love.
i feel love
but i never say it
i know it scares you down to your toes
you said this wasn't real.

but you know what?
fuck you and your borders
my heart is mine
my love is mine
my body is mine

/this is what i want to say about love.
it's mine
and mine to give
and you can never forsake it
reject it
give it back
throw it down
break it

Hello love my old friend
Sure is good to see you again

what is the gift?
the gift is love
the gift is a heart
kept malleable
vulnerable, soft, permeable, punctureable
hand me a scalpel,
i'll show you
there
cut there
my heart's been bruised bloodied forgotten discarded dulled
i've sat in the deep waters of grief
i've held the hand of her dying
i've transformed
i've closed up my heart for years at a time
hidden it on a shelf
and smoothed over the door
shallow grave
walked away.

love.

she says the gift is the feeling of it
not the reciprocation
he says no one can ever love you the way you want to feel loved
i say you can't fall out of love
love ain't no fuckin' tree.

/this is what i want to say about love.
it is terrifying
it changes you
it changes everything
it carries you
aloft
from floating you see the land
color blocks and swirvy lines
deep blue water
flattened, like hammer to nail
and it could
float you down
        glide
wing ed
nothing but the wind in your ears and clouds in your hair
nothing but your whole body melting into ozone, hemisphere
but it can also drop you
baby bird
empty nest
what looks to be a parachute, ballast
all hopes
evaporate
eviscerated
a fish hook enters, sharp as a razor
pulled out the way it went in
stuck
barb
tearing
slow death, painful. jagged.

love.
so many costumes, guises.
a siren's call
kiss and a slap

/this is what i want to say about love.
be not afraid to speak it
be not afraid to tell it
whether it is taken from your hands, out of your mouth, from your sex
whether rejected, tied in knots
whether turned into lies
whether told
'no. this is not love. i don't love you. you don't know what love is. i've never loved you. you're not worthy of love. i haven't known you long enough. but i told you not to fall in love with me. you know i don't have love to give you.'

what is the gift?
is the gift loving another or
just loving.

/this is what i want to say about love.
love is delicious
inspiring, opening
it's nothing i want to be ashamed of
no matter the subject
no matter here nor there
no matter gender chosen or assigned
no matter
even if secret, unattainable, gone

love is at my door again
/this is what i want to say about love.

Neist Point, Isle of Skye - Scotland

My Isle of Skye photos are many, and varied. In only a few days we saw, and drove, the entire coast. I've tried to upload them in order of families--- geographical locations, so as to remember the days, the mood, the varied and foreign land.

The Westernmost Point of the Isle of Skye is Neist Point and there's a lighthouse there. It's a ravishing, steep view of desert like cliffs and sea to the horizon. We walked down the side of one cliff where there are hundreds of stairs, but instead of going all the way out to the lighthouse, we parked ourselves against an old drystone wall and watched the light shift from white to yellow to golden orange, feeling Scotland's late spring air shift from warm to cool.

This day was perfect. These photos show a glimpse of that day, and there's more that will be uploaded this week.

All my Isle of Skye photos thus far can be accessed through the Urquart Castle post. I can't say I did any of the land justice because it was well beyond my visual comprehension and I was humbled by it immensely as a photographer. Please take these photos as a document of my first visit to a land I hope to court in the future. I have still, as yet, to make my pilgrimmage to Shuna.

shuna. in a dress.

Mystery Fruit: What am I & What do I Taste Like?

London, Walking the Thames.

MONTEREY MARKET NEEDS YOUR HELP!! PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD

PLEASE MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD.
PLEASE go to Friends of Monterey Market and show your support/read about what you can do.
PLEASE WRITE A LETTER.
PLEASE DO NOT SHOP AT MONTEREY MARKET AFTER JUNE 3rd UNLESS BILL FUJIMOTO takes back his resignation.
PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD.
PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD THAT MONTEREY MARKET NEEDS EVERY ONE'S HELP to make it clear that Bill Fujimoto IS Monterey Market and his resignation is not an option.
PLEASE MAKE IT CLEAR TO THE ENTIRE FUJIMOTO FAMILY that you will not support a market that places its bottom line before family.
PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD.

If you have eaten ANYWHERE IN THE BAY AREA, you have supported Monterey Market.
If you have ever shopped at ANY FARMERS MARKET, you have supported Monterey Market.
If you have ever blogged about new fruit in season, new fruit available in the USA, climbed upon the great pumpkin interactive sculpture in North Berkeley, or made anything in any home kitchen or restaurant or catering kitchen with any fruit or vegetables, you have supported Monterey Market.
If you believe in farmers, chefs with integrity, great produce, eating seasonally, eating locally, supporting local business YOU BELIEVE IN SUPPORTING MONTEREY MARKET.
AND YOU WOULD CONSIDER SHOWING YOUR SUPPORT TO A MARKET, A TEMPLE, A STORE, AN INSTITUTION that was in need of help.

MONTEREY MARKET NEEDS YOUR HELP.
PLEASE BLOG ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW AND LET GOOGLE AND THE FUJIMOTOS KNOW WE WILL BE HEARD.
WE DO NOT ACCEPT BILL FUJIMOTO'S RESIGNATION.
WE WILL NOT SHOP AT THE STORE IF THE FAMILY ACCEPTS HIS RESIGNATION.
PLEASE TWEET ABOUT MONTEREY MARKET and the petition.
PLEASE TELL EVERYONE YOU KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING.

I love Monterey Market.
I always have.
I always will.
I support Monterey Market from accross the USA and into the United Kingdom.
BUY EAT AT BILLS AND WATCH IT WITH EVERYONE YOU KNOW PILED INTO THE LIVINGROOM if you don't believe me when I say this is a place that must be saved!!!!!!

**If you have time to leave a comment here, you have time to write a letter to the Fujimoto's.

Portree Harbor, Isle of Skye. Scotland

if you know me, you know i have always had a thing for the sea.
anything maritime is a friend of mine.
whether it be fish or sailors, the navy or coast guard, whales & sea birds, octopi or coral; it's all my love.
like kitchens, i can never get enough of photographing water, and all its related themes.

in fact, i hope you'll join me in seeing and spreading the word about The End of the Line, a brutally honest film about overfishing the world's oceans and waterways. while i agree it won't be pleasant to see and learn about this devastatingly sad subject, i know it's immeasurably important to be fully aware. we make choices all the time, both intentional and passive, with our money & voices, as it concerns the food we are eating now and the food we are planning to eat in the future.

but until then, feel free to see a tiny sampling of photos i took at Portree's harbor just a few days ago. i took a lot of photographs all around the Isle of Skye, but I am gathering them into specific sets on flickr. for ease-- less of a chance to overwhelm.
thank you for going on the journey with me.
it was an amazing one.

Scotland, Isle of Skye. The Fairy Pools.

i have no words yet.
there are too many, and yet none of them work.
so i've begun with the photos. in groups. by place.
it's the best way i know how.
to give it all the room.
it deserves, needs, requires.
i was humbled and awed
opened and touched
nourished and inspired.

Isle of Skye, Scotland.
The Fairy Pools in Glen Brittle, The Cuillin Hills.
about 20 photos here, including a few of me dipping my face in very cold and absolutely delicious water!

today, bittersweet. /i hate today.

as the weekend nears
you feel dread
but you can't put your finger on it.
it's in there
at the tip of your mind
tongue, a bitter taste.

but you can't remember
and it bothers you all day, all week, every day
like a scratchy sweater
or plastic on wet skin
sciatica

what day is it
not sure
has it passed, when will it arrive

and yet
it's on your mind
the day that's coming and you can't avoid it
even though if you could take a knife to that place
you would
without hesitation.

but you don't tell anyone
you keep quiet
because you don't want to make a fuss
hey, maybe the day will go unnoticed
because you don't live in america anymore
people here aren't as sappy.
a greeting card for every occasion isn't necessary.
and if you keep quiet
maybe it won't happen maybe no one will know maybe you'll
forget.

forget.
hahahahahahahaha
you're            funny
/in a dark dark dark way.

you never forget
in fact
it never gets better
just different
and you hate
you hate
time

you hate today

you hate the word forget
you hate people who still have both parents

 you hate that nothing can ever take it away
no amount of heroin, hours working, exhaustion, fucking, drinking, razors, inspiring, writing, punk rock, words, miles moved

nothing
will ever take it away.

nothing
will ever
bring her back.

nothing will ever
bring
you
back.

today, bittersweet.
/i hate today.

you hate that there's a name for today.
a demarcation.
you hate that it's all the rage to proudly declare it all over the internet like it's some sort of star receiving statement.

and funny,
because you almost forgot
you wandered into today groggy, spent, sore, listless, happy
you dreamt of the person beside you
naked
doing nothing in particular
just lovely to be near
even though
you are soon to say good bye.
again and again
you say farewell
you let go of someone's hand
because they're no longer
holding your hand back

you leave with you from the bar
you say, 'i make sweet things.'

click
document
memory
click
she's stopped breathing
finally
click
lightswitch
change
click
nothing.

but today is here
and heavy
and you are so goddamned glad
you won't see or hear from anyone you care about today
so you can walk into that space
no one understands
no one
and not come out
until you want to.

because when today is over
you'll be on a plane
you're going to see the ocean
you're going to taste the sea
you're going to see the sky
you're going to be close to your place
your name
you're going to allow someone to touch you
again
and then let-         go
you
are going to let another day pass
are going to live
in the moment
and savor it,
delicious de la.

cold water air
words unspoken
touch light, electric
close eyes
un petit mort
salt, wet.

you''ll come back
envelope sealed
wings tucked.
today, absence.

today, closed.
today, quiet.
today, armor down.

today, bittersweet.

paris. {photos seulement}

bakers, brethren, family, team, heart, home, love

 



  

these people, sans the 3 other women, have been my family for the last six months. a photo set has been begun on flickr and if you know me on facebook, you've seen even more.

my heart is breaking.

but I know it will break open wide enough to embrace and grow and nurture and protect all that I received and gave in this kitchen.

thank you could never cover what I feel, but it's the place where I'll start.

 

The Bakers Dozen Turns 20 Years Old!!!!!!

What is now considered yesterday here in London is still considered Tuesday in California, so I have just a bit of time left to say HAPPY 20 YEARS OLD BAKERS DOZEN!!!!!

And what I would have said had I been there,

I love to bake as much as I love to learn about baking and love teaching baking. I am a better baker because of Bakers Dozen. I am a baker's baker because the Bakers Dozen exists. And for all of these gifts and graces, I am eternally grateful.

Because baking is a craft, and craftsmanship is gained through experience, and craftsman's guilds are set up for apprentices and sharing of knowledge, the Bakers Dozen is not only an invaluable group to be coveted, but an noun turned verb!

             Happy Happy Birthday Bakers Dozen!

We deserve to celebrate the heart and minds of all the bakers who make up our wonderful group. Cheers for the women who founded the Bakers Dozen, and all of us who have fed and been fed by its existence.

{I'm so sorry I missed the celebrations today, but I live a little far away now.}

Hampton Court Palace. day trip from London by boat.

It was very sunny in London on Sunday April 19, the day of our field trip.
At 11 am we boarded a very small boat and sat on the deck, and opened snacks, and had strong tea and watched The Thames go by and listened to the captain point out sights and went through a few Locks and ate crisps and talked to strangers and were giddy and silly and laughed and blushed and got very sunburned.
We also saw a lot of houses we wanted to live in.

At 2 we arrived at Hampton Court Palace, a King Henry VIII residence.

We spread apart and saw different rooms and whispered about history and took photos and smelled lilacs and saw horses and trees shaved to look like hats and secret gardens where we could all imagine many a frolicking and giggleing and chasing and kissing and making love under the blossoming trees took place! I might have a lot of wives too if I had a garden like that attached to my house the size of Rhode Island.


I wanted the maze to be like the one in Orlando but it wasn't because it was dreadful because it wasn't very green and I got out of there as fast as I could. But because it was so sunny and there were wildflowers and tall grasses and lilacs and I was with friends and people I have known and loved for years and years,
this little annoyance soon disappeared.

The light coming through tiny lead seamed windows was gorgeous and subtle.

And it was nifty to touch the stone and to think that something as architecturally sound and full of profound history could still be standing.

A wondrous day indeed.
It was fun to be a kind of tourist or adventurer or get out of the city or sit back and relax for a 3 hour boatride or meet new people or take a tiny picnic of pocketfood or get sunburned.
If you want to see more of the bridges we floated under or the rooms and the tapestries and the light and the stained glass windows and the cobblestone hallways and the massive fireplace for roasting meats or just take a gander at the posse, check out the flickr page.

the only thing you can rely on is change.

and you never know when one chapter becomes another.
time takes time.
rushed bread develops little flavor.
cold egg whites aren't as strong.
flour is never what you think it is until you know it.
fruit is way more complicated than you, but neck in neck with love.
chocolate can be mastered but never owned.
anything fermented is cities of tastes.
perspective should never be underestimated.
no one can guarantee you anything, unless you believe in lies.
believe people when they tell you the truth about themselves.
passion and numbers do not the best bedfellows make.
craft
is a mightily powerful force.
actions are choices. even when we feel trapped.
relationships are built by verbs not observations.

failure is relative.
you can define success.
there are many types of victory.
you can start your day over at any point.
breakfast all day is a wondrous thing.
chocolate is a better addiction than heroin.
if you keep doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results, it will make you feel crazy.
transparency
is refreshing.
while honesty is relative, it's utterly important.
self knowledge can be a compass if you let it.
a strong work ethic helps and hurts.
loyalty is often blind.
people are not fruit. one cannot shave off the nasty bits and eat only the part they like.
sometimes strangers can say the thing you need to hear the most.
but those who love and know you intimately can usually cut to the chase faster,
and the rewards are life long.
sometimes you're not meant to know why you've moved 8,000 miles away.
40
is a meaningful number, in human years.
4 is my favourite colour because it's orange.
morning ritual is lovely, and grounding.
april showers bring may flowers.
chin up.

being a cook's cook is an important distinction in my opinion.
craft can never be mastered but it can be studied.
sometimes you have to look at how hard you're working
and hear it
when people say
you don't necessarily have to work harder
but you might want to work
different.
"there is no failure. I give you permission to erase it from your word box altogether."
the kitchen is a siren.
the ending is always the same.
fame is an illusion.

the only thing you can rely on is change.
what does that make pattern?
years are just broken up into patterns disguised as coincidences.
sleep is delicious.
home is complicated.
the ocean is vast. and alive.
baking is alchemy.
laminated dough is a series of folds, like envelopes
carrying thousands upon thousands of layers
of words
inked, pushed, pressed
monotype, letterpress,
lead & oil
pigment & plaster
conjure & whisper
only to be shared
by those in the know
carrying messages over land and sea, through snow and rain.
for there is no destination to reach.
just one sign,


the only thing you can rely on is change.