This morning, I had a morning shift at the cafe. I was working in the kitchen, helping the chef make up the pans of lasagna for the day, and we were just kind of chatting about life, and he asks me “So, do you cook at home?” to which I respond something like “Oh yeah! I love cooking! I cook all the time!” and he said something like “What do you like to cook?” and then I go off about my past life as a hypo-allergenic, vegan-friendly, gluten-friendly baker.
He pauses for a moment, and then I remember that I am working in a vegan cafe.
He says “You can do vegan cake?”
I say “Hell yes I can!”
Then I made the largest freaking cake I have ever seen in my life (which is saying something, because my past life as a hypo-allergenic baker included a meter-long platypus cake and a seven-layer stag cake (which probably doesn’t actually count, because it collapsed like the Tower of Babylon on the kitchen table at about two in the morning on the night before it was to be presented, which I think might have been on of the most hilariously, tragically hopeless moments of my life).
Today was a bit last-minute, so vegan desert was the only option. On Friday, when the cafe is open, I’m in charge of gluten-free baking and vegan baking.
It’s like all that time I spent learning about cooking is actually becoming relevant to my life.