Traveling with chefs is a treat.

Not only to you eat extraordinarily well, but you also get invited along on neat adventures like mushroom foraging up north on random weekends.

One such impromptu invitation presented itself, and I made a last-minute decision to join some good friends of mine on their quest to find fungi. 

A two and a half hour late night drive up US1 dropped me off at our Airbnb house high atop the hills of Jenner, CA, where I was greeted by the group that had already arrived. We quickly caught up on recent goings-on before we all made our way to bed in preparation for the next day’s hike.

The following morning, I awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting toward my room. Assuming that the chefs had already begun breakfast (and my lazy ass hadn’t even woken…), I moseyed along into the kitchen, only to find our Airbnb host “mother” setting up to make a meal for us.

“I’ll bet people never cook for you all!”

(Clearly, this was not the time to correct her on the technicalities of my own profession, but far be it from me to correct her).

Bacon, eggs, waffles and a gorgeous fruit salad quickly adorned the table before us. She even took my passing suggestion to try adding bacon to the waffle mix before the iron lid was closed. 

And our Jewish Airbnb mom loved it.

The relaxed, grateful and satisfied looks on the faces of my friends made me realize just what a treat this was. Day-in and day-out, these chefs cook for others and are so rarely afforded the opportunity to sit and enjoy for themselves the experience they offer to so many, and that so many of us take for granted.

The gift of providing a meal, whether it is from a chef, a parent, or an Airbnb host, is one to appreciate each and every time. So tonight, consider cooking for someone else. You never know what meaning it will carry.


Nosh on,
Josh

Yesterday, I went to Argentina. 

Twice. 

With a total of 31 elementary school boys.

I recently joined the staff of La Petite Cuillere, an after-school program currently offered at the Town School in San Francisco. On Mondays and Tuesdays, founder Sandy Marie and her little "sous chefs" travel to a new country (stamped passports and all!) and explore not only the culinary aspects of the region, but the history, geography, and culture as well.

On the menu was a simple empanada - but from this seemingly innocent snack, we were able to introduce these young, budding cooks to new flavors and spices like cumin and paprika, all the while discussing topics from gauchos and the thriving Argentinian beef industry to the origins of salt. Rolling the dough, chopping the vegetables and crimping edges with the tines of their forks, each student took an active role in producing his pastry pocket. 

However, education does not cease with the cooking of the meal. Once each student dropped his creation off to be fried, he took a seat at the properly set community table, linen and all, to discuss table manners, enjoy their finished products, and review what they had learned over the previous 60 minutes. 

I believe that one of the best ways for children to learn is to, "hide the vegetables," or trick them into thinking they aren't actually learning in the most conventional sense. At La Petite, the veggies are quite literally masked by the food itself, a concept so simple, so obvious, that it just works. Not only are these young boys learning to cook at an early age, but they are doing so while garnering other valuable knowledge and skills, without fear of stigma, and with a confidence that will last a lifetime. 

Food can be a powerful tool when used correctly - and these early risers are the proof. 

In life, timing is everything. 

Friday was my final day at Positive Coaching Alliance, as I officially left my desk job behind in pursuit of a more personally fulfilling career. It just so happend that on Sunday, Marla Bakery simultaneously embarked upon its new chapter with a pop-up brunch at Firehouse 8 - a more than fortuitous happenstance for both my morale as well as my stomach. 

New beginnings are exciting and nerve-wracking, leaving me a bit wary. Needing a comforting meal to ease my tension, I opted for the two most soul-warming items on the menu. The chicken pot pie was packed with chunks of veggies and meat, encased in the flakiest crust that seemingly shattered beneath the mere mention of my fork. And who could pass up bread pudding from the woman who reinvented the concept at Nopa? Creamy, custardy, decadent, piping hot and topped with bright candied orange peel, I felt as though I were being hugged from the inside out. One of the most satisfying meals in a long, long while: Marla Bakery is going places. 

To me, that meal meant far more than a delicious brunch. That meal signified my sendoff on a new adventure riddled with the unknown.  

Today will be my first day of funemployment, but the knowledge that I'm not alone in my quest for a new beginning brings with it a certain sense of calm, quiet confidence.

Somehow, Marla Bakery knew as well as I did that "thyming" really is everything: the final taste in my mouth as I left was of a candied clementine and thyme soda.  

A perfect, refreshing end to a perfect, refreshing beginning. 


Follow Marla Bakery (@MarlaBakery) on Twitter and Instagram, and be sure to check out its weekly pop-up brunches at Firehouse 8 (1648 Pacific Ave.)