Ice Cream Dream
While working in kitchens in my early twenties, I worked my way up from the ranks of entry level pastry plater to head pastry chef. I worked in some of the best fine dining restaurants in Los Angeles and for some of the people that I admired most in the industry. I went from executing my chefs’ visions to creating and executing my own. Working at that level allowed me access to the very best ingredients, often using the very best equipment, and also afforded me the opportunity to travel the United States and the world participating in cooking classes and learning things I otherwise would not have.
As I approached the end of that decade, I realized that I was going to burn out keeping up with the restaurant lifestyle and hours. Ready to pursue my craft in a way that felt healthier and more true to myself, I left my last restaurant job and found myself behind two stands at a farmers’ market, working for two different farmers while I figured out my next step. At one stand we sold heirloom tomatoes and pristine varieties of vegetables, and at the other stone fruit — peaches, nectarines, plums and apricots. The pace was nice, the work physical, the hours early in the morning, and most important, the work didn’t come home with me.
Driving back and forth to the coastal town where the market was held, the roaring ‘40’s radio show playing in the background, I’d ask myself what did I enjoy most in the kitchen and where did I want to funnel the skills that I have learned? I kept coming back to ice cream.
In two of the kitchens where I worked, we had a vintage Italian ice cream making machine. It stood tall and narrow, with a deep cooling tub and a long arm sending a paddle up and down, slowly scraping the frozen ice cream from the sides back down into the rest until the entire mix was churned. Ice cream and sorbet bases could be adjusted in the moment, mix-ins could be added and, best of all, spoonfuls could be taken right off the top.
Next I went off to the local college to take a course in writing a business plan. My brain was being exercised in new ways, and I found comfort in the lectures, the note-taking, the worksheets and group work that the class required. Afterward, business plan in hand, I travelled to New York, where I took a professional ice cream course and met with and interviewed several renowned ice cream makers. Once back in L.A. I was able to secure financing and was ready to look for a location. One problem however; there began to develop a persistent feeling deep inside of me... I wanted kids.
That is perhaps the most unglamorous of acknowledgments in the world in which I had been working. Harder, longer, faster was the motto in professional kitchens, and I was ready to give it all up to raise a family. Realizing it would likely be three years before the business was at a place to take time to myself to raise a family, I made the decision to scrap my plan, have the kids and leave the rest to fate. And as fate would have it, we moved to Portland to raise that family, where I wound up starting Bakeshop out of the kitchen in my house, often holding the littles one in one hand while mixing with the other. But that’s a story for another day.
I never did give up on my ice cream dream though, and I still make it at home. The ice cream is smooth, rich and creamy and is made in the French custard style; a mix of cream, milk and egg yolk balanced with sugar and flavoring — seasonal fruit, chocolate, nuts, tea, spice — the options are endless. The dairy Is brought to a simmer, flavors are infused, egg yolks are tempered, and the base is strained and cooled, then additional fruit is stirred in if desired. Made in this way it’s the kind of product that isn’t conducive to large scale manufacturing, and likely in the end would not have yielded the financial success needed to sustain a business model. I am however looking at a way to work ice cream into Bakeshop in a way that is feasible, and perhaps in a post-Covid world when we are back at full capacity I will be able to do that.