My name is Brittany. Flour all over
the counters, this is a normal occurrence for my time in the bakery. The
swiping of the towels to clean up the flour is continuously happening. Machines
struggle, turning the batter or dough in the bowls, mixing the wet and dry
ingredients until they gel all together as one. I find this therapeutic, like
the swishing of the water lapping on the shore of a beach. Pastry for me is
like a relaxing cup of tea, steam wafting into my factory of a brain, slowing
the mechanisms down.
The
doors of the oven open rapidly, our hands shoving the pastries in as fast as
possible. The aromas float all around the bakery as we patiently wait for the
pastries to become crispy-brown on top. My excitement spills everywhere when
the products come out glistening and ready for eating. The warm, breath taking
visions, which appear before us ready to exit out the door.
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