You might know her from her incredible s'mores at Caramelpalooza, or from her blog, Croissant in the City. In any case, you're about to learn a lot more about this pastry chef. Chow Bella is excited to welcome Rachel Miller to our fold.
I am a pastry chef.
When people hear what I do, they freak out. "I love pastry!" "Oh, my God! If I did what you do, I would be 100 million pounds." "I have the best recipe for [fill in the blank]. Seriously, maybe if you're nice to me, I'll give you the recipe."
Um, no thanks.
It often feels like we are the red-headed stepchildren of the culinary world. We work the worst hours, as the first ones into the restaurant in the dark hours of the morning, or the last ones out, depending on if we have to wait on that last table to decide if they would like to order dessert. We love to measure precisely. We huff flour all day long. We are in love with our expensive chocolate, ring molds, and sil pats.
I've been told by a few savory chefs that they can easily do what I do. I bite my tongue, hand them the torch and watch as they frantically wave the flame over a crème brulee topped with sugar. Black bubbles emerge from what could have been a perfect golden top. They can do what I can do, remember?
Pastry paradise isn't large mounds of fluffy frosting, leisurely moments creating pastry perfection, or the shiniest new equipment. It's production-heavy, i.e. making massive amounts of sweet treats the public put down with their morning coffee. It's 3 a.m. It's sweat rolling down the back as you babysit a crème anglaise on the hot, busy line while sidestepping your way out of traffic on the narrow thoroughfare. It's standing in the walk-in for a couple of hours, scooping thousands of little ice cream balls for a plated dinner. It's long hours. It's constant movement and lifting of 50 pound bags of flour and sugar. It's not for everyone.
I had no idea I wanted to become a pastry chef. With a journalism degree from Penn State and an internship at the Pentagon under my belt, I sent out 120 résumés and got 120 rejection letters. I finally got a job working for a PR firm that specialized in nutrition-based campaigns in Alexandria, Virginia. It was a boring job, and as the lone Nutella eater in an office of calorie-counters, I was sick of being judged.
I came west to Phoenix to help my brother with his racing company and to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. A chance reading of Ruth Reichl's Garlic and Sapphires started me thinking about food as a subject matter. I decided that I wanted to be a food writer, but I wanted to be well educated about my subject matter, so I enrolled in Le Cordon Bleu.
My first job out of culinary school was at Bouchon in Las Vegas. It was regimented, strict, and challenging, but I loved it. I thrived on the challenge of pushing myself everyday, to produce better food than I did the day before. Cleanliness is next to godliness there, as I learned through a rouge mishap with some cocoa powder and at least 4 times a day vacuuming of the narrow mat we stood on in the tiny pastry room. Thou shalt work cleanly, is still something I strive for daily.
I moved back to Phoenix to be close to my family, and bounced through some local restaurants, until I met Jared Porter. A guy I was working with told me that a new restaurant was hiring and that I should go and submit an application. I zipped over right away and met Jared, leaving with a new job.
Working with Jared at The Parlor was one of my best kitchen experiences. He gave me responsibility and freedom with the pastry program, which allowed me to open up creatively and have a platform to test my skills.
After leaving the The Parlor, I bounced around again, baking freelance, if you will, trying to get together the plans and money to open my own pastry business. I landed in Yuma, to open a small farm bakery, and to be closer to my fiancé. The owner had a flower farm, but also grew vegetables for a u-pick storefront. Her barn housed an antique store/date shake stand/commercial kitchen full of up-cycled bits and bobbles. I filled her restored cold cases, antique 80-year-old plates, and reclaimed wooden shelves with pastries, jams, pickles, caramel, local Arizona coffee, etc.
Running a bakery in a hodge-podge kitchen was an experiment in creative baking. Working in a fully loaded kitchen is amazing, but working in one that has next to nothing, you learn how to be resourceful, and how to create new techniques. Pastry MacGyver-style. Moving back to Phoenix for my fiancé's job, I was baking at different restaurants, but it was time to get serious about my business. Launching last month, Pistol Whipped Pastry is mine. It's my pastry, the way I want it.
I'm still not standing in a lavish fully stocked kitchen frosting cakes in a pretty apron. I get up at 3 a.m. to go bake for someone else, someone who pays me money. Leave that job at noon to bake for Pistol Whipped, do paperwork for Pistol Whipped (curse you QuickBooks!), and spend all the money I make in that morning job on ingredients, packaging, insurance, and rent for my shared commercial kitchen space. And I still get to pursue my dream of food writing here on Chow Bella and in my quarterly column for Arizona Vines & Wines.
Basically, I do have the greatest job in the world, and not for the reasons you think. Everyday, when I'm scooping hundreds of cookies, I get to zone out, and think about what I will write here. When I see the local lemons in the walk-in, I make a list of new and interesting ways to use it. I challenge myself to do bake-off faster and more efficiently everyday. My skills become sharper, smarter, and more creative in every situation.
If you like this story, consider signing up for our email newsletters.
SHOW ME HOW
You have successfully signed up for your selected newsletter(s) - please keep an eye on your mailbox, we're movin' in!
Every week here in my little Chow Bella nook, I will share the pastry world with you, through my eyes. What is happening in pastry, where you should or shouldn't be getting your sugar rush, new products, baking chemistry lessons, and maybe a recipe sprinkled in here and there.
If you bump into me on the street, let's just get these things out of the way now: Yes, I have the coolest job. No, I'm not 100 million pounds, which is great because I have to stuff myself into a wedding dress in less than six months. I always love looking at different recipes, but since recipes are all just versions of an idea, that chocolate chip cookie recipe handed down in your family may very well be from your grandma's friend, Nestle Toll House.
Rachel Miller is a pastry chef and food writer in Phoenix, where she bakes, eats, and single-handedly keeps her local cheese shop in business. You can get more information about her pastry at www.pistolwhippedpastry.com, or on her blog at www.croissantinthecity.com.