The art of french pastry phần 5

mom cheerfully churned through one order after another, her cash register a pad of paper on which she quickly tallied up the totals I worked in the shop one Saturday morning when I was about fourteen years old on a day when my sister Elisabeth, who usually helped out on Saturdays, couldn’t Punk that I was, I thought it would be easy; what could be so difficult about grabbing a loaf of bread and giving it to a customer? My mom smiled, knowing how little I knew about her customers, who expected me to know exactly what they wanted I could feel them looking over my shoulder to make sure I made no errors as I added up their orders (luckily, I was good at math) By the end of that morning I was so stressed that I begged my mother never to make me work there again “I’ll scrub floors, clean every pot and pan in Dad’s kitchen, anything, but please don’t make me work the front again!” She smiled and said, “Now you’ve had a slice of my daily life.” After school, on weekends, and during school vacations my two sisters, my brother, and I were often required to work in the bakery (but not in the front of the shop) We’d try to hide as much as we could, escaping to play in the nearby hills or in the courtyard and barn of our converted farm, but eventually my parents would find us My father was very strict, and there was always something that needed to be done—greasy sheet pans and kougelhof molds to clean, apples to peel for chaussons, mirabelles, and quetsches to cut up for tarts On Thursdays there were onions to peel for my mom, who sliced them thin ... were often required to work in the bakery (but not in the front of the shop) We’d try to hide as much as we could, escaping to play in the nearby hills or in the courtyard and barn of our converted farm, but... made no errors as I added up their orders (luckily, I was good at math) By the end of that morning I was so stressed that I begged my mother never to make me work there again “I’ll scrub floors, clean every... please don’t make me work the front again!” She smiled and said, “Now you’ve had a slice of my daily life.” After school, on weekends, and during school vacations my two sisters, my brother, and I were often required to