Code Red, Carrier Pigeons, and Confidence

Kitchen Confessional

It’s Time For Kitchen Confessional!

Oh, the self-restraint it took not to spell confessional with a K. (Culinary confessional did not have the same ring to it.)

We all have them. Don’t be shy, get ready to let loose and serve up some vulnerability like a HOT roast on Sunday with a side of potatoes and gravy. (I am headed to the UK next month, so I have roast🍖on the brain.)

We are in this together, from the oops, I burned it, to the oh SUGAR, I forgot to add the salt, to the CODE RED, I smashed three cases of eggs before a brunch shift…(winces, remembering the chaos that ensued). But what happened after your kitchen mishap is what we are really after. No matter how big, small, or ego-driven the situation was, what happened after? Ya, I am talking to you! 🫵

You learned.

We all learned something from our kitchen mishaps, and that is a beautiful thing! Guess who is NOT forgetting the salt EVER again—YOU! Guess who is ALWAYS setting a timer and not burning the cake they have so thoughtfully prepared—YOU! Guess who is not leaving three cases of eggs in the upstairs shared walk-in (large fridge) overnight—ME! That was a fun mess to walk into at 5 AM!!!

Butter Cult is a safe space to share your deepest, darkest kitchen moments. In doing this, you will not only get it off your chest, but you will also help us ALL learn, grow, and maybe we can share a little laugh about it (if enough time has passed😉). The kitchen is not that serious, and we should be having more fun with our failures.

Who’s with me?!

I dare you to get vulnerable here, let’s remove another layer of that onion. Respond to this email, dm, comment, or send a carrier pigeon, with one of your kitchen konfessions (just wanted to make sure you were paying attention). We won’t be putting you on blast or trying to give you feedback, just listening, learning, and growing as one big happy Butter Cult family.

The perimeters are simple. Any kitchen-related mishap, oopsie doodle, or epic culinary disaster, or anything in between is welcome. We want to hear it all; no lesson is too big or small here.

Okay, fine, I will go first 😘.

It was my first day on the job at a bakery, call time was 5 AM, which for bakery standards was the late shift, the princess shift if you will. I rolled in with coffee in hand, nervous to be starting a new gig after moving back home from years of living out of state. I am introduced to everyone and then getting ready to settle into the never ending bakery to-do list.

Chef says, ‘Why don’t you use these extra bits to make us a staff meal?’ GULP. At that point in my life, I was not seasoned in making things on the fly and relied heavily on recipes and reading instructions. I did not go to culinary school, so if I didn’t make it on my own accord, then I might not know how. This was also a point in time when my confidence was not peaking. I was incredibly nervous to not execute something perfectly, and being put on the spot was my own personal version of hell. I thrive on a plan!

When I was put on the spot, my brain would occasionally just go blank, and anything I might have known went out the window. I took some deep breaths and tried to think.

I fumbled my way through making a frittata (baked egg dish); it’s very forgiving, and apart from underseasoning or overcooking the eggs, it’s simple enough. I measure out what I think a good ratio of eggs to cream is (6 eggs and 1/4 C cream). I grease the crap out of the pan, this is also a problem point in frittatas; it can stick if you don’t grease it up real nice. Pan greased, egg mixture poured in, and seasoned appropriately. I steadily carry this cast iron pan to the oven and slide her on in.

My brow is sweaty and my arms are heavy…I shut the oven door and carry on with my other bakery tasks. I did not set a timer; I was just so thrilled for that task to be off my desk. Out of sight, out of mind, and on to the next.

Someone (a hungry co-worker) asked when the frittata would be done. I shrugged my shoulders, pride dragging on the grease-stained floor. I slowly walked towards the oven….any guesses?

THE OVEN WASN’T ON!

I had put the frittata into a cold oven! I had flipped a switch, and the light and fan turned on, but the temperature dial was not activated. I realized that I had no idea how to turn on a professional oven of this kind.

I mumbled some explicit words under my breath and went to the bathroom. To cry? I honestly don’t recall. All I know is that when I came back into the kitchen, my dear co-worker had turned the oven on and set a timer for the frittata. It was very kind; she may not have any recollection of this moment in time, and yet it is seared in my brain.

When the frittata came out of the oven, looking like a frittata, the same co-worker asked if I wanted to cut it because I had done all the hard work. HA. I said no, I was over it, my grease-stained pride was ready to clock out! I did have a taste later, after everyone had their fill, and it was actually good. The chef said it needed salt🙃.

Was this the disaster of the century? No.

Did anyone’s event get ruined? No.

Should I even have kept this on such a high shelf in my brain? No.

But I did. It was a shock to my system that I really wasn’t as confident as I thought and that I would need to really work hard to whip my confidence into shape.

What’s the lesson here?

Ask for help - There is no shame in not knowing something. I had worked in kitchens before and never encountered this kind of oven. Knowledge is everything, not everything, but it sure does help when you know what you are doing. And the best way to learn is to do. I also needed to learn the lesson of not taking myself too seriously (it’s a lifelong journey).

Guess what the first thing I did when new employees started at the bakery? I showed them how to turn on the oven! Not in a weird way, just like a hey, this is part of the intro process. I didn’t want anyone to go through the agony of oven operation like I did. A great way to solidify that you know something is to teach someone else how to do it. Even if it is as simple as flipping a dang switch.

Here is your PSA to turn your ovens on.

I have many more kitchen confessions up my sleeve. I want us to band together on this one and share, share, share. Sharing is how we learn and grow from each other’s missteps. Share your kitchen confessions with us! I will highlight them in the upcoming kitchen confessionals newsletters. No story is too long, too short, too juicy, too grotesque; we need to hear them ALL.

Cheers,

Nicole | Butter Cult

P.S. Does anyone watch British Bake Off? They take their mistakes SO well, why is that, UK peeps? I am American, and I have to consciously relearn to go easy on myself.