Same Bread, Different Oven
Having just left choir rehearsal, I moseyed over to a local restaurant in order to chat with the owner. This new routine is bolstered with the beer, whiskey, and good conversation that freely flows behind those doors. I arrived to find that the drizzly Tuesday evening scared the patrons away. The owner poured me a beer, and the evening began.
Within minutes of cozying up to the tall half-liter glass of pilsner, there was a tap at the window. A known passerby was waving a quick hello; the owner returned his greeting wave with a beckoning gesture. As the stranger made his way to the door, the owner sprang into action, filling a new glass for the visitor. The visitor entered, stating that he was simply passing by; however, the trap was sprung, the beer was poured, and the passerby cozied up to a tall half-liter glass of radler.
As they kicked off a discussion on POS (point of service) devices and accompanying software, the stranger revealed himself as the owner of the local bakery. As his bakery is touted as one of the six remaining, true-to-tradition, made-by-hand bakeries in Erfurt, my ears perked up. As the two exhausted their lists of pros and cons, counter arguments, and price-to-value comparisons, the owner commented that I am in town to learn from local masters.
The former-passerby looked me over with a steady eye as if to suss out my meddle by observation alone. Either finding insufficient flaws or acting upon a whim, he suggested that I join them in the bakery that evening; they start with bread at 11 PM sharp. Flattered by the offer and aware of my nearly-empty beer glass, I stammered that joining them in two hours would be fantastic, but I was not at all prepared for an all-nighter. Perhaps tomorrow would be equally acceptable.
With a disappointed face and a posture that suggested that it was tonight or never, he asked the owner to provide me his contact information and left the restaurant. Reconnecting the next day, we agreed that I was to arrive at midnight. I failed to ask how long I was allowed or expected to stay. I failed to determine if I were to participate or observe. I was simply expected at midnight.
I hustle down the street. I had left my apartment at 11:45 PM as I was certain that I would not need more than 15 minutes to get to this new bakery. That said, the panicking voices in my head seem certain that I am now running late. While the weather is unseasonably warm, the drizzle makes the trip a bit unpleasant. However, the glistening streets reflecting the streetlights could be considered pretty.
I arrive at the bakery door; our arrangement is that I was to call him at midnight when standing where I now stand. Unfortunately, it is only 11:52 PM. I stand on the corner and watch the drunk people meander by. I prepare conversation topics that could be used to break any uncomfortable silences between this guy and me. I wait.
As I let the call ring out, I hear footsteps approaching the door. The baker waves me in, and we pass through a labyrinth of hallways and rooms back to the ovens. He informs me that he is working with a group of people to prepare the “Bemmen” for the school. (This local word doesn’t translate, but I later learn that it’s a butter-laden sandwich made with a bread roll.) He quickly recites the names of the three men working the ovens and departs.
As he departs and I mentally crumple my list of conversation topics, I realize that I only sort of heard the names but not to whom they belong. There were two guys named Uwe and one not. I decide to just call everyone Uwe (pronounced “Oo-vah”).
Uwe-1 takes me to grab an apron and sends me to work a bit with Uwe-2 with the sweet dough which is being prepared for a variety of doughnut-like pastries. It becomes quickly apparent that Uwe-3, who is dressed like the Act 2 version of the Leprechaun in Finian’s Rainbow, will not be speaking much. As I have seen at every internship, this place works as a complex choreography of people, equipment, and trays; my job is to clap offbeat.
After Uwe-2 and I have portioned out the sweet dough for a short rest, Uwe-1 takes me back to help him form Zopfkuchen. By braiding three portions of dough, we form the pastry that will then be baked. Before going in the over, these treats are covered in poppy seed.
As Uwe-3 begins throwing loafs in the oven (these were formed before my arrival), I help Uwe-2 in prepping some roll dough by taking the output from one portioning machine and readying it for a second portioning machine. There are a lot of toys here; there may be some efficiency gains, but I am not convinced. He and I form some other tie-shaped sweet dough that are slated to be deep-fried.
I hustle back to help Uwe-1 make Kamerunen, a complex treat that involves a filling, folding, cutting, and twisting. They are then covered in Streusel before heading for the ovens. I decide to pack this process away to try making on my own (know it didn’t go well).
At this point, I notice that some of the Uwes are missing at different intervals. Initially, I had thought that they were simply elsewhere occupied in the labyrinth of rooms; they are in fact sitting in the break room smoking. As I ponder if I am allowed breaks, if I am working there, how long I am expected to stay, and when have I overstayed my welcome, Uwe-1 calls me over to assist him in deep-frying the doughnuts.
As we make our way through the Pfannkuchen and the tie-shaped doughnuts, the first set of pastry chefs start arriving. It is now about 4 AM, and there are now four pastry chefs and one intern bustling around these backrooms. Uwe-1 and I chat about the “Chicago Fire” series; he’s a big fan as he works as a volunteer fireman. He then shares pictures of recent, local fires. Things are definitely slowing down.
As the Uwes convene to attack another round of bread rolls, one of the pastry chefs ask if I can help her by cracking an innumerable number of eggs into various plastic measuring pitchers. It is now 6 AM, and I am revisited by the questions of how long I am expected to be there. The pastry chef is eager to teach me how to make Brandmasse, which is something that I had actually hoped to learn.
We work together in measuring out different ingredients and placing the contents in the various mixers along the wall. Oddly chipper for the early hour, she states that we are now going to add my eggs. Interesting aside: ‘eggs’ in German are the English double-entendre equivalent for ‘balls’. So, I hold my laughter and my desire to exclaim that we shall do no such thing. She either has a very dry sense of humor or assumes that I would not know this slang, having only innocent intent. We resume without incident.
The day turns out to be International Women’s day, so we decorate various éclairs with pink frosting. At this point, I have totally run out of steam. I attempt to find Uwe-1 in order to drop some heavy hints that I think I have seen enough for the day. The pastry lady is now using me to hold her pastry bags as she fills them and explaining the various forms and design methods. I listen to her explanations but am failing in absorbing the knowledge.
As the six newly arrived saleswomen (yes, only saleswomen) start grabbing the completed baked goods and creating enticing presentations in the front store, I am told that breakfast is ready; it is 7 AM. I weave my way through the rooms to a table filled with meats, jams, and fresh rolls. It is here that I meet the former owner of the bakery – the baker’s father.
The chairs fill, and a breakfast conversation of Trump’s policies and other world affairs pass the time. This, like all the other shops, feels very much like a tight-knit, family-like group. Refreshed, I now seek out and find Uwe-1, who is working with Uwe-2, in order to thank him for his instruction and let him know that I have a yet full day ahead of me – I must leave. I find Uwe-3 near the ovens and bid him a farewell as well.
Unable to find my initial contact, I make my way onto a sunny street; it is 7:30 AM. Stumbling home and to my bed, I make a note to send a thank you text to the baker. It was quite an operation and a great experience. I learned a lot!
