In my hometown lives a baker.  The very ordinary name of his business (“Madison Sourdough”) hides the fact that he’s a European trained master pastry chef.  Croissants, danish, brioche – the stuff is, if not worth dying for, certainly worth driving several extra miles across town early in the day to grab the last items before someone else gets them.

Still-life with Brioche by Chardin (Wikipedia Commons)

Now, I’ve been a fan of most of what he makes for quite a while, but his brioche are some of the best pastry I’ve ever eaten.  Which has led to a couple of very interesting conversations:

About a month ago my faithful readers may recall I was in Washington DC during the time of the Inauguration.  One of the mornings there I found myself, with Daughter #1, in a very authentic french patisserie in Bethesda Maryland.  Guess what was in the pastry case?  Brioche!  But these looked a bit different from those I’ve become accustomed to  in Madison.  A long conversation with the woman who ran the shop followed.  She had baked everything in the shop herself.  She had serious doubts as to whether the so-called brioche from Madison was the real thing, and in what would have to be described as a passionate defense of her craft, grabbed a brioche, sliced it in half, and stood there while we sampled it, with the following (please imagine a strong French accent):  “If this is not the best brioche you’ve ever had, I want to know it…”

Not wanting to offend, and appreciating the free pastry, we agreed with her – it was certainly pretty close to the best we’d ever had.

Fast forward to this morning, and the serving counter at Madison Sourdough.  I simply had to tell my baker friend the story of his competition in Bethesda.  Before I knew what was happening, he had a brioche on the counter, as well as a croissant.  He sliced them down the middle and proceeded to instruct me.  [Please insert strong midwestern accent here].   “The layering in this croissant is so **** perfect I could win a prize.”  And more of the same.

And I walked out with what I had ordered, plus the remains of the examined brioche and croissant, two more croissants for good measure – and a couple of pieces of chocolate.  Because “the way a french baker starts his day is with a croissant, a piece of chocolate and a hot cup of coffee.  The coffee melts the chocolate in your mouth.  THAT is how a croissant should be eaten.”

Why am I sharing this?

Here are two craftsmen in a world of high-tech, efficient production who are doing something ancient and ordinary and who not only love doing it but are passionate enough about their craft to wax eloquent and give away samples to try to persuade me of what they already know:  They are creating something good and beautiful and tasty.  They are both luddites in the best sense of that word – people who reject the relentless advance of ‘progress’ because they understand that sometimes an advance is really a retreat.  Long may they prosper – and all of their brothers and sisters with them wherever they may be found.

And they are prospering – at least my friend in Madison is doing so.  In this time of recession, *his* business is up.  Significantly so.

If there is a path forward in our chaotic and unhappy world, it may well start here:  With a man – or woman – who is doing what he loves, to the best of his ability, and giving joy and happiness to the people around him.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a piece of chocolate and a hot cup of coffee waiting for me.

Related posts:

1. Waste, waste – and more waste
2. Neem Hakeem: Headphones and Twinkies are hazardous to your Health?
3. Is loneliness an environmental concern?
4. An anniversary worth marking
5. Musings on the Metro

Other Links to this Post

1. Our Father’s World » Lessons from the life of a wood-worker — September 21, 2009 @ 1:56 pm