plastico

If you have to encase the full contents of your bakeshop in plastic, as B and I did on Saturday night, then I am convinced you could not have had a better time than we did. I worked both stations, running in the back in between to help scale out bread and shape it, sheet dough, relieve some piping bag monotony, while B got the prep list done and cleaned the kitchen. Everything that could went into the ovens, and the rest went onto two tables. I cleaned down my stations, wrapped, did a hasty inventory, then came in the back and started cutting plastic bags with scissors. MJ blared from my ipod, so loud sometimes that we had to shout. The dishwashers and a sous chef puttered about, checking the items the line had wrapped. At some point in our taping job I noticed B left a backup roll of tape inside the pile, so I removed it and started taping. We worked pretty quickly, puzzling over some items. What to do with the vat of hot fryer oil? (It got its own bag of plastic) How to get the back of the ice cream machine? We took no chances with the stereo speakers. We took pictures. We were alone; we'd been alone most of the day since K was sick and we'd sent her home in a flurry of assurance that we could handle everything. We could babysit the bread, bake it nicely, finish the piping job, and we didn't need much for the stations, we'd be fine, she should go, really, now, cmon...Then a few hours later we found out about the plastic wrap situation and only toward the end of our job did we think of calling K to let her know because, dios mio, what if we left something out?

Then we left for a well deserved beer and watched drunken straight men rub up against one another, ate greasy and delicious pizza, stayed too late to catch MUNI. Home was a flurry of buses and waiting on street corners, tumble into bed for a crazy Sunday of running all around town and shopping.

I am pretty sure that by the time I get there today, the bakeshop will be back in order, but if not, then I'll have to join in its reshaping.