The Breadwinner

I am currently the breadwinner in the household. Five days a week I return to our apartment with a bag of fresh bread rolls. Most are misfits in shape or rejects that have briefly graced the bakery floor jumping out of their baskets by accident. This results in a serious bread diet, which in turn is terrible for my waistline but marvelous for my morale. I am thriving.

Most sane and generous people would chose to volunteer for a worthy cause that relieves human or animal suffering or improves the lives of others. Me, I go play with food. This is the second year of offering my time and enthusiasm to the local bakery here on Sylt. These darling folks are creating miracle high quality locally produced handmade products every day in the summer months under tremendous stress. This third generation family business (since 1940) is the highlight and pride of this village (well, OK, we do cherish the little grocery store too) and beloved throughout the island. The name LUND is a household name for anyone who has ever visited Sylt.

Why you might ask. What can be so very special? Well, it could be their artisanal bread (hearty Vollkorn to huge loaves of crunchy sourdough), their bread rolls (about 10 varieties), their pastries (think fruits with crumble or vanilla cream creations), their ice cream

(local ingredients, about 8 flavors per day), their jam, their chocolate bars with the Sylt logo stamped on, their restaurant food (excellent small menu), their lovely outdoor garden café, their cookies, or (pause for effect) their cakes. Did someone say cakes? Yep. The same ones I sliced and plated last summer. Usually about 13 different ones. Tall, round and elegant to flat square sheets and whatever in between.

So this year I helped out in the pastry department a couple of hours a day. I mean, hello, can this be considered work? I got to tackle 10 kg butter blocks, cracked 70 eggs in a row, poured gallons of sweet cream, shoveled flour and sugar out of huge sacks.

My specialty became the strawberry tarts. A tedious job taking an extraordinary amount of time. There is the baking of the tartlet itself, then it gets a layer of dark chocolate slathered on, once that is dry, we add a little round biscuit layer, then vanilla cream, and then the piling of cut strawberries begins to create a little tower with the rounds of berries getting smaller and smaller until we have a peak. That thing (precarious at this stage) gets transferred to a rack where we douse it with Agar-Agar (a plant based Gelatine that requires the right temperature to be poured). Now somewhat sturdy, I grab the tart with my left hand and glue roasted almonds to the bottom rim with the right. And voila, we are ready to carry the trays (15 tarts each) one into the bakery store, the other to the café, and the remaining one or two in the walk-in pastry freezer.

My speed improved and fewer strawberry towers toppled. Other jobs included mind-boggling volumes of ingredients to be mixed in stainless steel cauldrons on wheels.

My day to day boss named Jana was a pastry chef in her mid thirties who could not have been more even-keeled. Nothing would rattle her and nothing was a problem when I watched some rather exciting accidents unfold and thought OMG! The work was physically demanding which had not occurred to me before, but then, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

The big boss and current owner of the business is a modern gentle giant who runs around in a wool cap and flour dusted boots all day working alongside the different teams.

The pastry department is working based on demand. Rainy days mean more cream-layered cakes. Warmer days mean more fruit cakes.

My time is over and I have learned some valuable tricks if I ever plan to bake for a hundred people. Same time next year? Maybe.

Travels with mom

Island Love Letter