The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activities. Replacing Sterling and Steph, who were invaluable team members, was a daunting task, but as they say, the pastries must “bake on,” to borrow a page from my best friend Lance. He was the athletic director at OSF, as locals refer to the Shakespeare Fest, and a partner in our shared winery, Uva. When I had lamented to him about Steph and Sterling’s impending departure, he had tapped the side of my cheek and offered me a pragmatic smile. “Chin up, darling. There are dozens of young pastry ingenues waiting in the wings for their chance to step into the spotlight and shine. Mark my words, you’ll have a line around the block with budding, eager-eyed chefs begging for an opportunity to take the pastry stage the moment you list the jobs.”
He was right. As soon as we posted the open roles, résumés flooded into the bakeshop. It helped that Southern Oregon University was located on the south end of town, and there were plenty of college students hungry for work and experience. Plus, the benefits of free meals during shifts and deep discounts on food and coffee were an added perk.
We had sorted through the stack of applications and landed on four new candidates. In many ways, the timing was good. My goal was to scale back once the twins arrived. Expanding our team and having ample time to train them over the summer and into the fall should put me in good shape to take extra leave and delegate some of my responsibilities.
Bethany was eager to take on more projects. She agreed to step into the role of pastry manager. She would oversee our baking efforts and to my surprise, Marty approached me about managing the kitchen. He had a breadth of experience and a centered energy that made him perfect for the job. I just hadn’t expected he would be interested. When he first came to the Rogue Valley after his wife’s death, he had planned on retiring but was lured back into the kitchen by the siren call of sourdough. We were all the better for it, and I was thrilled that he was willing to take the lead. Bethany and Marty would make a good team and have been with us long enough to know the bakeshop’s quirks, like how the industrial mixer needed a simple hip bump to get it unstuck or why it was imperative to keep a close eye on flatbreads in the wood-fired oven, so they didn’t char to a crisp.
I was feeling more solid about our plan. Marty would train our sous chefs, Bethany would supervise the new decorators and bakers, Andy and Sequoia would continue running the espresso bar, and Rosa would oversee the dining room and operations.
Our new staff had varied skill sets, and as hard as it was to swallow the reality that Sterling and Steph were gone, having fresh energy and ideas would likely breathe new life into the bakeshop. I was choosing to embrace the change. What other choice did I have?
We were closing Torte early for an initial meet-and-greet. While Carlos and I were on the coast, our new staff members would spend the weekend shadowing our seasoned employees. When I wasn’t running trays of salami and roasted red pepper flatbread or slices of my chocolate cherry torte upstairs, I spent the bulk of the day preparing employment kits, schedules, and paperwork. I wanted everyone to feel welcome and have a clear idea of where to find recipes and supplies and who to ask for help.
By the time we locked the doors for the evening, I had four packets, Torte aprons, and bags of Taming of the Brew, our summer roast waiting for our arrivals. There was a buzz of nervous anticipation in the kitchen as everyone gathered around the island. Andy prepared iced coffees, and Marty had arranged a selection of small bites—herbed cheese bread, cold pasta salad with mozzarella, basil, and heirloom tomatoes, and crostini with roasted chicken, honey, and brie.
“Have you seen my special brownies yet, Jules?” Bethany asked, tugging off her apron and running her fingers through her springy curls. We originally met at Ashland’s annual Chocolate Fest, where Bethany debuted her Unbeatable Brownies. Mom and I were so enamored with her baking talent and her infectious optimism that we approached her with an offer for a small percentage of ownership in the bakeshop and an opportunity to expand her brownie empire. It had been a dreamy match. In addition to baking daily brownies, she was an expert cake designer and moonlighted as a photographer—managing our social media with her beautifully stylized food pics and clever posts.
“No, I’ve been so busy getting everything ready. What surprises do you have in store for our new crew?” I asked, peering over her shoulder to get a better look at the island.
“Check these out.” Bethany reached for a platter of brownies that she’d cut into the shape of the Torte logo—a fleur-de-lis pattern with a simple torte cake stand in the center. She had hand-piped the outline of the logo in red and blue buttercream and wrote: Welcome Team Torte in an elegant cursive scroll.
“These are so sweet,” I said, suddenly feeling ravenous for a brownie. I’m not always great at remembering to eat—not intentionally. I love food, obviously, but during work hours, I usually have dozens of irons in the fire. Pregnancy had put an end to long stretches between meals. Carlos teased me that I was turning into a grazer. Not more than thirty minutes went by before I was desperate for a snack, and chocolate was my weak point.
“Do you want one now?” Bethany asked, handing me the plate and brushing crumbs from her T-shirt, which read: DON’T GO BACON MY HEART.
“I can wait,” I lied.
She lifted the platter to display her scrumptious sweet bites. “You should probably test them to make sure they’re okay.”
“Am I that transparent?” I stared at the platter longingly.
“Um, well, you’re looking at my brownies like you’re a bookish heroine in one of my romances who’s just been swept off her feet by a dashingly handsome man. Why can’t the man of my dreams ogle at me with dewy eyes like that?” She pushed the plate closer.
“Hey,” Andy interrupted. “Who’s this man of your dreams?”
“Only about a hundred of my book crushes,” Bethany shot back, tossing her hair over her shoulder and gave me a sly wink before turning her attention back to him. “If you want to keep up, you might want to read a love story or two.”
“I thought that coffee was the way to your heart,” he said, sounding worried and glancing at Bethany with his wide, eager blue eyes for confirmation.
“Coffee’s good, sure. But, you know, give me a burly guy with a book in his hands, and I turn to pure mush.” She waited for me to take a brownie and then nonchalantly put the platter back on the island. I could tell she was taking pleasure in making him sweat.
“I like to read … I … I … read,” Andy sputtered. “Check my backpack. I’m reading about Costa Rica’s history with coffee right now.” He waved his arms in defense of himself. “It’s a historical look at the political, economic, and social impacts of coffee on the culture. Costa Rica is on the top of my bucket list. I’m dying to go visit the coffee farms and meet with growers. The country produces some of the best coffees in the world—coffees I want to emulate here, but I’m also learning so much about sustainability and how mass producers and climate change are putting the coffee farms at risk.”
“I think you’re too young for a bucket list, Andrew.” Marty clapped him on the back. “Now, an old guy like me, that’s another story. My bucket list is practically a tome at this point.”
Andy chuckled.
Bethany took out her phone and moved the plates of food around to get a shot for social. “Coffee history is great and all, but reading a little romance never hurts.” She caught my eye and wiggled her eyebrows in mischievous delight.
“Okay, give me a list. I’ll do it,” Andy challenged, motioning with his hands again. “Hit up with your romance recs—bring it.”
“Maybe we should start a baking book club,” Rosa suggested, a small smile tugging at the sides of her apple-shaped cheeks. Her dark eyes twinkled with a touch of joy. I knew she took as much pleasure in the friendly banter amongst our staff. Her naturally calming aura made her someone everyone sought out for advice. “We could match a book and a pastry every month. I think people might really enjoy that.”
“Oh my God, I love that idea!” Bethany squealed. “I have the perfect book to kick it off, too. It’s called Batter of the Heart.” She scrolled through her phone to find the cover to show us. “It’s a meet-cute between a young baker who is determined to save her grandmother’s bakery. She clashes with a snobby pastry chef who has plans to open a French patisserie in town. But their rivalry turns into an unlikely partnership when they’re forced to spend late nights in the kitchen baking for charity. Their midnight pastry sessions spark a romance and some serious heat in the kitchen. It’s spicy, but not too spicy. I won’t give away any more of the plot, but we could totally bake some of the recipes from the book. You’re brilliant, Rosa. We have to do this, right?” Her gaze landed on me for approval.
“I absolutely love it. Mom and I have talked for years about hosting a book club, so I’m a solid yes. And just a reminder for everyone.” I paused and looked around the kitchen. “You don’t need my permission. You’re all taking on more, which I’m so grateful for, and I’m serious about scaling back.” My hand instinctively went to my stomach as I thought about how very different the future was going to look. “I want everyone to feel empowered in their roles. If you have an idea like this and the capacity to make it happen, go for it.”
“So, what I’m hearing is I should book a ticket for Costa Rica?” Andy gave me a lopsided grin.
“That we might need to discuss more, but it’s not off the table,” I replied with a crooked wink. I’ve never had a good poker face or mastered the ability to wink. What I didn’t tell Andy was Carlos and I had already been discussing the possibility of making an excursion to the coffee-growing region. One of Carlos’s sous chefs from the Amour of the Seas recently moved back to her hometown just outside of San Jose to take over her family’s coffee plantation. She invited us to come stay, tour the farm, and potentially partner on some future blends. I didn’t want to get Andy’s hopes up until we firmed up our plans, but his bucket list might just have an item crossed off it soon.
The conversation shifted as a knock sounded on the basement door. Marty went to let in our new staff, and within minutes, the nervous energy shifted to happy chatter and lots of hugs. I wasn’t surprised, but it was lovely to see everyone connect and the instant sense of camaraderie. If day one was any indication, things were going to go smoothly.
I was excited to watch our team start to mesh and confident that our new staff members were in good hands when it came to learning the ropes at Torte. Knowing that brought me ease. Now, I could concentrate on my trip to the coast and supporting Sterling and Steph as they stepped into their next chapter.