Read Online With Love and Quiches by Susan Axelrod - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Axelrod
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father (the only time he directly helped me financially) to give me some breathing room, and little by little, I righted the ship. My capital limited my participation in the marketplace. I developed the ability to know those limits and to rely on my budget. And then my business did begin to grow, and then to grow again.
I was working twelve- to fourteen-hour days, but I was thinking and planning all 24/7. I had my one or two employees and Don, my driver, who would pitch in with production when he wasn’t on the road. Soon after Jill left, Bridget started coming with me to work in the shop almost every day, just as she had done when we ran Bonne Femme in the garage. But now she wanted to know when “we” were going to get someone in to clean the house!
In spite of all this, there was a home front, and I needed to keep at least a semblance of order while all this was going on. I will discuss how we kept it all together later in my narrative, in chapter 17 , “Family Matters.”
At this point I was still the baker, salesman, and chief bottle washer; yet the business by mid-1975 had grown to well over $100,000 per year in volume. Our reputation came through the turmoil of my partnership breakup intact; our products were still delicious; and, moreimportantly, they were always consistent. I was now able to breathe a little easier and have some fun, too.
Then someone new walked into my life, and everything changed again.
Jimmy the Baker
Shortly after Jill left the business, an acquaintance of mine called me to ask if I would be interested in meeting the husband of her housekeeper, who was a trained baker. The husband, James Gilliam, was out of work due to an injury, but he was looking for something he could do for a few hours a week. It was this chance introduction that brought the man who was to become Love and Quiches’ head baker into the fold.
Jimmy the Baker, as he will be called from here on in the book, was a black man who got his professional training in the navy. At the time, a man of color, at least in civilian life, was not often given the chance to be considered a head baker. We were still in the mid-seventies, and this was the reality, even if it was the North. Instead, bakeries had employed Jimmy merely as a benchman. Yet I was told by many of my suppliers during those early years that Jimmy always ran the local bakeries in which he worked. He was a legend in the regional bakery industry.
Jimmy came to work for me in 1975, and I found out very quickly that old-fashioned bakers are strictly nocturnal beings. He worked only at night, dressed in his crisp whites, no matter how hard I tried to convince him otherwise. I soon got used to arriving in the morning to find all the day’s production completed and perfect. Gone were the days of tissue-thin cheesecakes! We still were making the quiches during the day, but Jimmy took on all the desserts. Now I was able to introduce a variety of layer cakes from Jimmy’s recipes, chocolate and carrot to start, then a few others, in this tiny shop.
Jimmy was also a superb bread baker. And although we have never sold any yeast products commercially, just to keep in practice he oftenbaked a few racks of the most wonderful French breads—including, sometimes, brioche—for the staff. We devoured it all, slathered in butter, within minutes of starting our day. I was always reminded of Evelina and her bread when Jimmy treated us to his bread.
Jimmy was stubborn and had a quick temper, but everybody loved him. He was all business, but he had a soft side if you sought it out. He lived a few towns over, and his house was by far the most well kept on the block, with not a twig out of place. This is the same way he handled everything in our little shop. When I arrived in the morning, everything was sparkling, and, if he had not already left for the day, I was always amazed to see that he had not a drop of chocolate on his crisp whites.
Onward and Upward
By mid-1976 I knew a lot
I was working twelve- to fourteen-hour days, but I was thinking and planning all 24/7. I had my one or two employees and Don, my driver, who would pitch in with production when he wasn’t on the road. Soon after Jill left, Bridget started coming with me to work in the shop almost every day, just as she had done when we ran Bonne Femme in the garage. But now she wanted to know when “we” were going to get someone in to clean the house!
In spite of all this, there was a home front, and I needed to keep at least a semblance of order while all this was going on. I will discuss how we kept it all together later in my narrative, in chapter 17 , “Family Matters.”
At this point I was still the baker, salesman, and chief bottle washer; yet the business by mid-1975 had grown to well over $100,000 per year in volume. Our reputation came through the turmoil of my partnership breakup intact; our products were still delicious; and, moreimportantly, they were always consistent. I was now able to breathe a little easier and have some fun, too.
Then someone new walked into my life, and everything changed again.
Jimmy the Baker
Shortly after Jill left the business, an acquaintance of mine called me to ask if I would be interested in meeting the husband of her housekeeper, who was a trained baker. The husband, James Gilliam, was out of work due to an injury, but he was looking for something he could do for a few hours a week. It was this chance introduction that brought the man who was to become Love and Quiches’ head baker into the fold.
Jimmy the Baker, as he will be called from here on in the book, was a black man who got his professional training in the navy. At the time, a man of color, at least in civilian life, was not often given the chance to be considered a head baker. We were still in the mid-seventies, and this was the reality, even if it was the North. Instead, bakeries had employed Jimmy merely as a benchman. Yet I was told by many of my suppliers during those early years that Jimmy always ran the local bakeries in which he worked. He was a legend in the regional bakery industry.
Jimmy came to work for me in 1975, and I found out very quickly that old-fashioned bakers are strictly nocturnal beings. He worked only at night, dressed in his crisp whites, no matter how hard I tried to convince him otherwise. I soon got used to arriving in the morning to find all the day’s production completed and perfect. Gone were the days of tissue-thin cheesecakes! We still were making the quiches during the day, but Jimmy took on all the desserts. Now I was able to introduce a variety of layer cakes from Jimmy’s recipes, chocolate and carrot to start, then a few others, in this tiny shop.
Jimmy was also a superb bread baker. And although we have never sold any yeast products commercially, just to keep in practice he oftenbaked a few racks of the most wonderful French breads—including, sometimes, brioche—for the staff. We devoured it all, slathered in butter, within minutes of starting our day. I was always reminded of Evelina and her bread when Jimmy treated us to his bread.
Jimmy was stubborn and had a quick temper, but everybody loved him. He was all business, but he had a soft side if you sought it out. He lived a few towns over, and his house was by far the most well kept on the block, with not a twig out of place. This is the same way he handled everything in our little shop. When I arrived in the morning, everything was sparkling, and, if he had not already left for the day, I was always amazed to see that he had not a drop of chocolate on his crisp whites.
Onward and Upward
By mid-1976 I knew a lot
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