It seems I am at a crossroads once again…..My Oh so short sojourn at FSB, unfortunately confirmed my suspicions: I am a journeyman pastry chef. I used to be amused by that term, thinking it was more one reserved for people in the drywalling industry, or hard-assed dudes familiar with a welding torch….My timing could not have been worse, for reasons I cannot disclose, my relationship with FSB…..Must continue as long-distance one (sniff). As I type this, I am packing things into boxes, and hating the thought of another move…I am once again a bedouin, a transient soul….A gypsy of sorts. A gunnysack, hanging at the end of a stick would probably suit me better, at least right now, in lieu of a rolling pin. My head says: Go and get a real job, man’s work…..But my very being bleeds caramel colored loaves, shiny fragrant “KOROVAI’S” and all things sweet and comforting…..I hate my “talent” sometimes….Why couldn’t I have chosen something relevant? How do you rewire what is hardwired from birth? I am cursed with the LOVE of feeding people. I despise hunger, and LIVE for making people happy thru food. I see a hobo, and I want to make him a bowl of soup…I see a little old lady ogling a display case, and I want to make her a cookie to go with her cup of tea. How am I supposed to toil in another field that would probably chew me up, and spit me out faster than I can say “baguette”. My posts, for the next while will probably seem a little strange for those looking for a quick fix with their cookie dough, or cinnamon rolls. I will be back , in fine form, sooner or later. I sense something may be on the horizon…For when it seems darkest, I know the sun will shine again….I am dohhead, and I’m out.