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- [00:01]
A
If you're listening, you know self care is vital for overall wellness, but it can be hard to prioritize yourself and ask for what you need. If you're a veteran going through a tough time, there are people who want to listen and help with no pressure or judgment. Dial 988 then press one chat at veterans crisisline.net or text 838255 to reach the Veterans Crisis Line. Responders are ready to support you no matter what you're going through. When we decided to start selling merch in our wind down box, we knew we needed a behind the scenes partner.
- [00:43]
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To make it successful.
- [00:45]
A
For big companies like Aloe or Magic Spoon that have healthy sales and attractive brand and good marketing, you might not realize that a big part of their success is actually the business behind the business that is making selling simple for millions of businesses, including ours. That business is Shopify. Nobody does selling better than Shopify, home of the number one checkout on the planet and the not so secret secret. With shop pay sales conversion boosts up to 50%, meaning way less carts going abandoned and way more sales. The secret's out. Businesses that want to grow grow with Shopify. Upgrade your business and get the same checkout Aloe uses. Sign up for your $1 per month trial period at shopify.com nothingmuch all lowercase go to shopify.com nothingmuch to upgrade your selling today. Shopify.com nothingmuch Ready for a getaway? Virgin Voyages is the adults only destination for anyone seeking a restorative, luxurious and award winning vacation at sea. They focus on creating relaxing spaces. The cabins are meticulously designed to give you a gorgeous place to feel renewed and Virgin Voyages is exclusively adult. They cater food, entertainment and activities to adult tastes. Explore the Caribbean this winter on one of their week long Caribbean escapes. Learn more@virginvoyages.com or contact your travel advisor.
- [02:31]
B
Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone in which Nothing Much Happens. You feel good and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nicolai. I create everything you hear on Nothing Much Happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We give to a different charity each week and this week we are giving to the Union of Concerned Scientists. They work using rigorous independent science to solve our planet's most pressing concerns. Learn more in our show notes. Let me take you behind the scenes for a moment. I'm here in my recording booth and with me at all times is a weighted pillow that I keep on my lap as I read. The effect of the deep pressure stimulation helps me stay in my body and.
- [03:49]
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I like it so much I called.
- [03:52]
B
Up Quiet Mind the Maker and said, hey, let's work together. So now available is our very own Nothing Much Happens weighted pillow. That's the perfect holiday gift for NMH fans and folks who need extra help feeling calm and Grounded. The first 100 orders will also get two months free of our premium plus podcast membership order now through the link in our bio Now a wandering mind will struggle to rest, but a focused mind, one with something to tether it in place, will give over to sleep. This is why you fall asleep when you're trying to read. Just by listening, you'll keep your mind in one place and falling and returning to sleep will become more automatic. I'll read the story twice and I'll go a little slower the second time through. If you wake later in the night and feel your mind starting to rev back up, turn on an episode, you'll be out again in a flash. Our story tonight is called Pie Making and it's a story about an evening at the bakery with ready workstations and clean aprons. It's also about an urn of hot cocoa on the counter, pastry cutters and crimped crusts, and the stages of learning that eventually allow us to play.
- [05:58]
A
If you're listening, you know self care is vital for overall wellness, but it can be hard to prioritize yourself and ask for what you need. If you're a veteran going through a tough time, there are people who want to listen and help with no pressure or judgment. Dial 988, then press one chat at veteranscrisisline.net or text 838255 to reach the Veterans Crisis Line. Responders are ready to support you no matter what you're going through. Happy Holidays everybody. Well, almost. I mean, they're coming up fast. Sometimes it feels too fast, you know. But thankfully there's Ring to help us get through the chaos. This time of year, there's always something going on. A bunch of deliveries one day, a tree wrecking cat the next, and then you're off to visit Aunt Barb. Like I said, chaos.
- [07:01]
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Holiday chaos.
- [07:02]
A
Well, Ring has solutions for all of it. Like a video doorbell that alerts you when those delivery elves are dropping off packages. The indoor cams can keep an eye on that ornament terrorizing cat. And if you can't get out of visiting Aunt Barb, at least a Ring alarm kit can stop you from worrying about your empty house. See, I told you. Ring is amazing. So amazing. All the people on Your shopping list will like it too. So head to ring.com to find the latest deals unring video, doorbells, cams and alarm and shop gifts for everyone on your list.
- [07:46]
B
Anybody else need a getaway?
- [07:49]
A
Something restorative, luxurious and grown ups only? Let me tell you about Virgin Voyages award winning vacations at sea. They have an emphasis on luxury with over $1,000 in value included in every sailing and everything they offer from their menus which are created by Michelin star chefs to their cabins designed by top international firms. It's all award.
- [08:18]
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Winning.
- [08:19]
A
Voted World's Best by Travel and Leisure and Conde Nast readers for the second year in a row, Virgin Voyages is exclusively adult. They cater food, entertainment and activities to adult tastes and their sailors love it. Explore the Caribbean this winter on one of their week long Caribbean escapes. Learn more@virgin voyages.com or contact your travel advisor.
- [08:46]
B
Okay, lights out, devices down. It's time to commit yourself to deep rest. Snuggle into your sheets and get as comfortable as you can. There is nothing left for you to do or even for you to think. You can let go of all of it. Now take a deep breath in through your nose and sigh from your mouth. Again. Draw deep in and release. Good pie making in baking, details matter. It's not like cooking up a pot of soup where you can add one clove of garlic or three where what constitutes a large onion is debatable and won't matter much to the final product. In baking, a teaspoon is a teaspoon. Dry ingredients actually do need to be sifted and the various grinds of flour make a difference in the final bake. When I was learning my craft apprenticed here at the bakery, I spent a long time learning those lessons. I baked bread, made pies and cakes, folded doughs and piped batters. I got many things wrong before getting them consistently right. Eventually, after I took over and became the head baker myself, I found that I finally knew the rules well enough to break them. I could improvise in a sense because I knew the underlying properties of all of my ingredients and how they would react when combined. I think it's a bit like learning your part in a play. You must first learn it so well that you know your cues and lines forward and backward, that you know it in your sleep, that you know everyone else's part along with your own so that when the curtain finally rises, you can actually forget a bit of it and just react to your scene partners. Just be in the moment. That was me. Now the curtain rising was the oven door opening in the early morning, and my scene partners were the seasonal fruits, the spices, the sweeteners and leaveners that lined my workbench. Today, though, I was welcoming a group of beginners into the kitchen and needed to focus on the basics, the details and techniques that could help them take a step forward in their baking, specifically in their pie baking. It was a new venture we'd started this year, baking classes usually themed around a season, a certain holiday, or a ripening ingredient. We'd had a jam donut class when the strawberries came in in June and everything you can bake with zucchinis in it class toward the end of summer, a spooky cookie decorating class where students practiced their flooding skills on trayfuls of ghost shaped sugar cookies. And now we were heading into the holidays with pie making 101. We'd had such a good response, so many spots booked, that we decided to move class out of the kitchen and into the cafe space. We lined up tables, turning their clean tops into workstations, and set out ingredients and rolling pins, kitchen scales at each one. A few bakers would have to share, but I didn't think there would be any problem with that. Every baker moves at their own pace, after all, so they'd likely all be rolling and measuring at different moments. I took one more look around the space as I tied on a clean apron. We wanted this class to be fun as well as informative, so we'd brewed up pots of coffee and my special hot chocolate and were playing some festive music to add to the mood. The rooms smelled of the drinks in their urns and the scent of baked goods that is always present here, even when nothing has been baked in ours. After decades of fresh bread and cookies spilling from our ovens, the sweet smells had permeated the very walls and floors. I noticed a line of eager students queuing at the door and smiled to myself as I went to unlock it. They reminded me of school kids who passed this way on their walk home and spotted the Hot donut sign turned on in the window. They often left nose prints on the glass, and I was grateful that these folks restrained themselves as they waited. I pulled the door open, hearing the bell above it ring as I welcomed my bakers in. Many had their own aprons on under their jackets, or notebooks and pens ready for note taking. Some were excitedly chatting, others looked a bit shy or nervous, but all were welcome just the same. I poured cups of coffee and coco handing them out as they hung their coats and found their stations. Clean bar towels sat ready on the workstations and I noticed a few bakers tucking them into their apron strings just like I had mine. I wasn't nervous, really. I knew the ins and outs of pastry crust and filling consistency like I knew my own name. But I was excited. The room was buzzing with expectant energy as the bakers surveyed the ingredients laid out in front of them, the tools lined up on the tabletops and read the laminated recipe cards they'd be taking home. I took a long sip of cocoa and cleared my throat, which settled the bakers instantly as they turned to look at me. After making sure that everyone's hot beverage needs had been met, I posed a few questions about what sort of pie related troubles they may have run into in the past. When I mentioned tough pastry, unset fillings and soggy bottoms, many raised their hands or nodded dolefully. We talked through the importance of keeping pastry ingredients cold and they began to make their first batch of pie crust, cutting the butter into the flour and adding the ice water. Spoonful by spoonful, I wandered through their stations, helping where I was needed. One student had only ever rubbed butter in by hand, pinching the fat into the flour until it became crumbly like wet sand. It was how her mother and her grandmother did it, she said. I said that my own mother and grandmother had done the same thing, but when I brought my pies to Thanksgiving, they'd had to admit that my crust was flakier, less worked, so more tender. She shook her head and gripped the pastry cutter, and I wondered if she'd be able to bring herself to break from tradition. At the next table, crusts were being rolled out and we talked about the value of rolling pins with adjustable settings for varied thickness of fancy cutters and the great food processor debate. I told them my goal was to help them bake in a way that required nothing fancy, just the simple tools most kitchens would have. Then, once they'd nailed that, they could start to play. First this, I said, pointing a flowery finger at the crust on their station. Then that. I finished pointing to the beautiful pies in our cases. The ovens were heating up and apples were being peeled everywhere I looked. We talked about varieties and tartness, best cinnamons and lattice making. I circled closer to two friends who were writing notes with pencils well coated with scraps of dough and whispering back and forth as they practiced crimping. I leaned in over their shoulders and adjusted the fingers. Big friendsgiving plans? I asked, recognizing them for the legendary party they throw each year. They chuckled and one asked me what I thought about an apple peanut butter pie. I tried to keep my expression neutral and replied that I really had never.
- [22:14]
A
Thought about it at all but would.
- [22:17]
B
Be very curious to see what they came up with. Learn the rules and then break them. That was indeed my philosophy. I laughed to myself and headed to help slide the first pies into the oven. Pie Making in baking, details matter. It's not like cooking up a pot of soup where you can add one clove of garlic or three, where what constitutes a large onion is debatable and won't matter much to the final product. In baking, a teaspoon is a teaspoon. Dry ingredients actually do need to be sifted and the various grinds of flour make a difference in the final bake. When I was learning my craft apprenticed here at the bakery, I spent a long time learning those lessons. I baked bread, made pies and cakes, folded doughs and piped batters. I got many things wrong before getting them consistently right. Eventually, after I took over and became the head baker myself, I found that I finally knew the rules well enough to break them. I could improvise in a sense because I knew the underlying properties of all my ingredients and how they would react when combined. I think it's a bit like learning your part in a play. You must first learn it so well that you know your cues and lines forward and backward, that you know it in your sleep, that you know everyone else's part along with your own so that when the curtain finally rises, you can actually forget a bit of it and just react to your scene partners. Just be in the moment. That was me now. The curtain rising was the oven door opening in the early morning and my scene partners were the seasonal fruits, the spices, the sweeteners and leaveners that lined my bench. Today, though, I was welcoming a group of beginners into the kitchen and needed to focus on the basics, the details and techniques that could help them take a step forward in their baking, specifically in their pie baking. It was a new venture we'd started this year, baking classes usually themed around the season, a certain holiday or a ripening ingredient. We'd had a jam donut class when the strawberries came in in June and everything you can bake with zucchinis in it class. Toward the end of summer, a spooky cookie decorating class where students practiced their flooding skills on tray fulls of ghost shaped sugar cookies. And now we were heading into the holidays with pie making 101. We'd had such a good response. So many spots booked, that we decided to move class out of the kitchen and into the cafe space. We lined up tables, turning their clean tops into workstations, and set out ingredients and rolling pins, kitchen scales at each one. A few bakers would have to share, but I didn't think there would be any problem with that. Every baker moves at their own pace, after all, so they'd likely all be rolling and measuring at different moments. I took one more look around the space as I tied on a clean apron. We wanted this class to be fun as well as informative, so we'd brewed up pots of coffee and my special hot chocolate and were playing some festive music to add to the mood. The rooms smelled of the drinks and their urns, on the fresh scent of baked goods that is always present here, even when nothing has been baked for hours. After decades of fresh bread and cookies spilling from our ovens, the sweet smells had permeated the very walls and floors. I noticed a line of eager students queuing at the door and smiled to myself as I went to unlock it. They reminded me of school kids who passed this way on their walk home and spotted the hot donut sign turned on in the window. They often left nose prints on the glass and I was grateful that these folks restrained themselves as they waited. I pulled the door open, hearing the bell above it ring as I welcomed my baker's inn. Many had their own aprons on under their jackets or notebooks and pens ready for note taking. Some were excitedly chatting, others looked a bit shy or nervous, but all were welcome just the same. I poured cups of cocoa and coffee, handing them out as they hung their coats and found their stations. Clean bar towels sat ready on their tables and I noticed a few bakers tucking them into their apron strings just like I had mine. I wasn't nervous really. I knew the ins and outs of pastry crust and filling consistency like I knew my own name. But I was excited. The room was buzzing with expectant energy as the bakers surveyed the ingredients laid out in front of them, the tools lined up on the tabletops, and read the laminated recipe cards they'd be taking home. I took a long sip of cocoa and cleared my throat, which settled the bakers instantly as they turned to look at me. After making sure that everyone's hot beverage needs had been met, I posed a few questions about what sort of pie related troubles they may have run into in the past. When I mentioned tough pastry, unset fillings and soggy bottoms, many raised their hands or nodded dolefully. We talked through the importance of keeping pastry ingredients cold, and they began to make their first batch of pie crust, cutting the butter into the flour and adding the ice water, spoonful by spoonful. I wandered through their stations, helping where I was needed. One student had only ever rubbed butter in by hand, pinching the fat into the flour until it became crumbly, like wet sand. It was how her mother and grandmother did it, she said. I said that my own mother and grandmother had done the same thing, but when I brought my pies to Thanksgiving, they'd had to admit that my crust was flakier, less worked, so more tender. She shook her head and gripped the pastry cutter, and I wondered if she'd be able to bring herself to break from tradition. At the next table, crusts were being rolled out, and we talked about the value of rolling pins with adjustable settings for varied thickness of fancy cutters and the great food processor debate. I told them my goal was to help them bake in a way that required nothing fancy, just the simple tools most kitchens would have. Then, once they'd nailed that, they could start to play. First this, I said, pointing a flowery finger at the crust on the station. Then that. I finished, pointing to the beautiful pies in our cases. The ovens were heating up and apples were being peeled everywhere I looked. We talked about varieties and tartness, best cinnamons and lattice making. I circled closer to two friends who were writing notes with pencils well coated in scraps of dough, and whispering back and forth as they practiced crimping. I leaned in over their shoulders and adjusted their fingers. Big friendsgiving plans? I asked, recognizing them for the legendary party they throw each year. They chuckled and one asked me what I thought about an apple peanut butter pie. I tried to keep my expression neutral and replied that I really had never thought about it at all but would be very curious to see what they came up with. Learn the rules and then break them was indeed my philosophy. I laughed to myself and headed to help slide the first pies into the oven. Sweet dreams.