Slowly But Surely...Oven Progress!

It always seems like people in Talkeetna spend a disproportionate amount of time talking about which eating establishments are open when, who's serving what, and how good it is. Even though it seems like there's nowhere except the for the Latitude to eat on Mondays and Tuesdays, even though noone knows when or if Wildflower will be open, even though Mountain High Pizza is having a pretty low winter due to a very unfortunate oil spill incident and even though the Roadhouse isn't doing a Haunted House this Halloween ... life goes on. Everyone figures it out. Everyone finds something to eat or drink. There is still always a burger and a pint to be had somewhere.

As things grow and change however, a burger and a pint doesn't always satisfy. People seem to want something new and exciting, some variety to get them through the doldrums of a long winter. And so, there has been continued, keen interest in the wood fired brick oven progress here at the Flying Squirrel. Well, even before I became a cafe owner, I was always one of those seeking something delicious and new, interesting, mouth watering, different. So, I am happy to say that the oven is really making progress. All of the firebrick hearth and dome are complete and as I write this Brian and two helpers, Terry and JJ are slopping buckets of chunky, gloppy refractory concrete over the top of the oven dome. Hooray! After some cure time we'll be down to insulation and a facade. Hopefully this means finally lighting fires in the thing around Thanksgiving. Maybe, dare I put it in writing, even a grand opening, oven-warming party somewhere at the end of November or beginning of December.

The brick oven will bring breads with a heartier crust, wonderful ambient heat through the coldest time of the year...and, yes, perhaps once a week rustic, wholesome, scrumptious, gourmet pizza. Add yet one more thing to all the other things I have to do. Anyone know a good pizza cook who likes to play with fire?

Anyway, Brian deserves a lot of credit. These days he's less focused on work and building (except when the bakery is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays). Mostly he spends his time trying to fulfill his obligations as a reluctant housewife, Oliver's main caregiver, Farmer Al's substitute potato sorter, outdoor clean-up crew after a year of neglect, and pretty soon: expert wood cutter! We figure during winter, this brick oven will eat a cord of wood a month and in summer maybe double that. The fun never ends around here.

A burger and a pint might just be the thing for such a hard working stay at home dad. Of course, we'll have to go out for that, since there is not a burger to be found at the Flying Squirrel. I wonder where we could get a burger today, anyway....

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Two Months

Flying Squirrel Bakery Cafe opened it's doors only two months ago. Sometimes it feels like I've already been doing this for years.

Two days ago I was reminded of how fast these two months have gone by when local resident Michelle Baker came in to pick up some bread she had reserved. She turned out to be the first person to fill up a bread card and she got a free baguette!

Don't get me wrong, the first dollar was pretty darn special (thanks Esther and Jim!), but the first full bread card is just as, if not more meaningful. It represents a connection that is quickly developing between Flying Squirrel and the great folks that walk through the doors every day, or once a week, or even once a month. People who live in the Talkeetna area are coming back for more. Even better, neighbors are buying locally made bread instead of the grocery store standard. Even better, people like the crusty, whole grain bread with substance that I happen to like making!

Very cool.

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Form and Function

I am ecstatic to see progress being made on our wood fired brick oven. People who come in to Flying Squirrel ask about it all the time - with very frequent questions about pizza (the answer is a qualified yes - we will do pizza in the oven sometimes just for fun because we can and it will be awesome, but we won't become a pizza place - Talkeetna already has one of those...).

Anyway, Brian made the plywood forms a few days ago and got two arches completed on the oven's roof or dome. I always knew this part would impress me.

It's hard not to be impressed with an arch. I grew up in Pennsylvania where arches with a keystone (PA is the "Keystone State") were common over the windows and doorways of many old brick and stone homes. It strikes me as some kind of great magic trick. Like when the magician pulls the tablecloth away and his lovely assistant appears to be floating in mid air.

I also like how bricks depend on one another. That is what makes the whole thing work. Each brick in the arch must have the brick next to it and the brick next to that one and so on in order to be able to support it's own weight and any other weight on top of the whole arch. Symbiosis is what it's called I think. Like a family. Like a community. Brother and sister brick.

Today is one of those days where I worry because things are slow here. It's inevitable I know. We have all this beautiful food and bread and yummy yummy pastries. People who do come in are very happy with the choices, the variety, the atmosphere. And yesterday was a fine day. It's just part of the roller coaster of owning a business, of wintertime in Alaska, of needing to do more marketing, of learning what works and what doesn't.

Generally though, I feel like I and Flying Squirrel are one brick in the arch - especially in the small town of Talkeetna. We all lean on each other, help hold each other up, support the next brick over, but also support the brick way down at the other end. It kind of makes me feel like everything is going to be ok.

Especially when that first crusty bread comes out of the brick oven!

Although there are LOTS of individuals and businesses I wish to thank for their help and support, there are two in particular I am thinking about today in terms of symbiotic relationships... Whole Wheat Radio and the potential future very fun musical endeavors we are talking about trying out here at Flying Squirrel as well as Sunshine Transit, our local free shuttle bus that will hopefully soon make Flying Squirrel a scheduled stop on their route up and down the Spur Road and who has offered to help with deliveries of bread and pastries to sell out at our local grocery store!

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Golden Moment

I have the best commute in the world. I walk about 800 feet from the door of my home to the door of the bakery down a curved gravel driveway that is lined with Alaska's natural beauty: birch and spruce trees, high bush cranberry, slimy now-inedible bolete mushrooms. It's just far enough that I feel like I got outside a tiny bit - enough to see the stars or the moon or the fog. Enough to feel the cold in my lungs or a spot of sunshine on my skin. Enough to see the golden autumn leaves falling from the trees as a bit of wind blows from the south.

At 5:00am, I get to feel the darkness. At 8pm when I go home, it's still light at least for another month or so. We're having an excruciatingly gorgeous autumn this year. I often bemoan how little I get outside when I'm mixing bread dough in the 60 quart Hobart mixer around 8am and I look out the window to see the sun peeking over the treetops. Although I expected to work these long, hard hours, I still miss being outside more. Fortunately my walk down the driveway is just long enough, but also not too long - my feet are as tired if not more-so than my brain at the end of my long day.

Last night, I had a moment. One of those moments that takes your breath away, makes tears well up inside you, is incredibly memorable, and yet is just a short, small moment, gone in a flash. I started my walk home and for some reason I turned around. I saw the sun going down behind the incredible yellow-orange autumn birch treetops. In a way, nothing special. But just glimmering enough, just crisp and clear enough, just the right combination of golden sun and golden leaves and golden air to make me stop and sigh and say to myself - wow. I did it. I achieved my dream. And this place is beautiful. My life is good. Exhausting, but good.

I turned back toward home. A few tears found their way down my cheeks - maybe from total exhaustion, maybe from being overwhelmed by the beauty of my surroundings, maybe from actually allowing myself to acknowledge the accomplishment. I went to look for a camera and couldn't find one. The golden moment passed.

I fell into bed. Woke up to the alarm. Stumbled down the driveway in the dark thinking about that movie Groundhog Day where Bill Murray wakes up to the same day over and over again.

Today, the wind is blowing. All the leaves are falling down. People are coming and going...eating their fritatas and donut muffins and cream of greens soup, taking home a ruggelach, a black brownie, a loaf of pumpernickel, picking up some caffeine for the road.

Does this weather, this season, the music, the smells...does life make any of them cry like me? Or is this golden moment mine alone?

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